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deniigi · 4 years

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i have been sick in bed with a stomach bug and re-reading a bunch of your series and these questions have plagued me so pls, for the sake of your fellow samuel chung lover, if sammy was in the Selkie verse, would he be a fae? if so, what kind? ALSO, what would his interactions with jack be like (either in the selkie verse or in the lying by omission verse)? pls and thanks <3

hi!

I’ll answer asks in a bit, but for this one I have a fic that explore a What If Jack Lived/Mike existed scenario with Sam in the Inimitable verse? I know it’s now what you asked for, but it is like 4k already written so that might be smth--an LBO Sam would be tricky because Sam would be itty bitty and Matt wouldn’t have the same kind of relationship with him.

As for selkie-verse Sam? I would have to do more research on Chinese spirts/fae/folklore, but for now, he’s not fae, just human 💖He’s like 12 and can make himself invisible though, which would be very confusing for Sue if she ever bumped into him

(Sue: baby boggart??? come here I love you I will look after you.)

(Sam: please stay exactly 5037 feet away from me! Thank you and I’m calling my mom!)

Here is the What If Jack and Mike thing from the Inimitable Verse.

Jack Murdock was the size of a house. He made Matt look dainty. He made Kirsten look like a kids’ mannequin. And he made Foggy laugh until he wept.

Sam could not understand a goddamn thing he said. Nor could he understand the guy he’d brought with him, who appeared to have had some serious plastic surgery to look exactly like Matt.

Sam could take an unintelligible giant. What he couldn’t take was an unintelligible Matt, and before him, somehow, in this ring of ginger, he’d been presented with two unintellible Matts.

His head was spinning.

Kirsten patted at him sympathetically.

“I’m from New York,” Sam told her mournfully.

“I know, hon.”

“How is this even possible? You’re from New York. How are they—what are they saying?”

Kirsten shook her head.

“Only Foggy knows,” she said. “It’s okay, he’ll translate when he gets back up.”

Mr. Murdock, the tallest of the gingers, might have been a good three to four inches taller than his boys, and he might have had the biggest hands that Sam had ever had the opportunity to touch in his life, but he was really nothing but a big, shaggy sheep dog.

The reasons Sam couldn’t understand a single fucking word he said came threefold.

1) Mr. Murdock had grown up in mid-century Hell’s Kitchen. That was just how accents from those parts used to sound. They’d lightened with time.

2) He had an extra layer of what Matt called a ‘brogue.’ He was first-generation American. Both his folks had immigrated from Ireland. He talked halfway between the way they talked and the way that the kids in his neighborhood growing up had.

And 3) The man had a lisp?

It wasn’t super noticeable. Sam sure as shit couldn’t hear it among the other layers of stuff going on, but Foggy said it was there.

Apparently, it came out more when he was anxious.

Apparently, he was anxious a lot.

Foggy told Sam to just give it an hour and he’d understand.

“So your name is Sam?” Mr. Murdock asked him while Sam tried to keep his mouth from falling open.

Matt was holding his facial-copy-cat against the wall by his lapels. The copy-cat had started making kissy noises at him. He egged Matt on to punch him right in the face.

No one was stopping them.

Kirsten cleared her throat and brought Sam back down to earth.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sam. Mr., uh—”

“Call me Jack.”

Never.

“Matty hasn’t said much about you, sorry to say.” Mr. Murdock explained. The more he spoke directly to Sam, the more Sam found, to his relief, that he could understand him. “He don’t like sharin’ things his brother can get ahold of and take from ‘im.”

Sam looked from him to the ‘brother.’

“There’s two of them?” he asked.

Mr. Murdock hummed.

“God help us, every one,” he huffed.

You can say that again.

“How long has there been two?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Mm? Oh, uh. Christ with the math,” Mr. Murdock said, “Michael—Michael—boy, you knock that off; that’s how you lose teeth—how old are you now?”

Nevermind. Sam didn’t need to know.

“I’m ageless, Pops, remember?” ‘Michael’ said, grinning at Matt’s sneer in his face, “Everlasting, never dying. Immortal. Timeless. I’m—” Dude got the wind knocked out his sails from Matt aiming for his solar plexus instead of his face.

“Maitiú,” Mr. Murdock said sharply. “He’s your brother.”

“He earned it,” Matt snapped back at his dad. “You said ‘no teeth,’ I ain’t even touched his goddamn teeth.”

“No, you coward, you wouldn’t, would you?” Michael threw back at Matt with no sense in his head. “You scared of gettin’ stuck on all that metal, huh?”

“I ain’t got my tetanus booster,” Matt deadpanned.

“Oh, get the yellow fever one next time, it’s a hoot—”

“I’m mailing you back to Thailand in a crate.”

“Oh mail me, why don’t you?”

“I’m gonna.”

“Boys,” Mr. Murdock said, exasperated. “Knock it off. You love each other. We get it.”

Kirsten shook with giggles.

“I’d drown you in the open ocean and then kill myself,” Matt said through gritted teeth. His nose was maybe an inch from his brother’s.

Michael just beamed.

“Aw, babe. You’d do that for me?” he gushed.

“HHhhh—”

“Maitiú.”

Sam had never heard someone said ‘Matthew’ this way. It was delightful. It made Matt’s shoulders go stiff as a board and then squirm in barely contained fury.

“Thank you,” Mr. Murdock said. “Drop ‘im.”

Matt didn’t want to, but he released his grip on his sibling. Michael slipped down and then caught himself and straightened himself out.

“Well, I’ll never,” he said. “We come all this way to visit you on your deathbed and—”

“I’m not dying,” Matt said.

“—you worry Dad sick for months on end. Don’t call. Don’t write. He thought the Californians had eaten you—"

“—I told him that it was a dislocation and I’m fine—”

“—and of course I told him, ‘no Dad, there ain’t any more cannibals in California than there are in New York’ but who listens to Mike, huh?”

Mr. Murdock had only been in the house for 15 minutes and he already looked exhausted.

“Where are the dogs?” he asked Foggy.

---

This was the weirdest time-out session Sam had ever experienced and he’d decided that he was living for it. Mr. Murdock went out onto the deck and locked himself out there with the dogs. Matt and his brother had never been more guilty.

Quickly the arguing turned towards scheming, which turned towards climbing out a window, which turned towards getting stuck on the roof and pleading with the Father to lend a hand.

Mr. Murdock observed Matt sobbing with laughter over Mike’s sudden anxiety of stepping from the roof to the deck’s arm railing with only hollowness.

“Mike’s not very super,” Sam pointed out to Kirsten.

“Nope,” she said brightly. “He is refreshingly normal,” she said. “Even the conman part.”

The what?

---

Matt climbed off the roof with ease and took the opportunity to finally give his old man a hug, which Mr. Murdock seemed to appreciate. He smoothed a giant mitt of a hand through Matt’s hair tenderly, like he was a baby.

It was kind of cute.

Mike scowled at them both and announced that he was pretty fine, by the way. He’d just stay there on the roof until the vultures got him.

“Matt’s the younger twin,” Foggy told Sam cheerfully. “He can do no wrong.”

Sam felt like he could suddenly see the forest for the trees.

“And Mike?” he asked.

Foggy snickered.

“He and Jack live together to keep each other in good cardiac shape,” he said. “They drive each other nuts.”

“But they still live together?” Sam clarified.

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “Mike’s what happens when you give a used-car salesman ever so slightly too much brain. He travels all over. Gets shot at and held hostage a lot. He’ll do just about anything for a couple bucks, no matter how hard Jack’s tried to get him to go straight over the years.”

“And Mr. Murdock? He doesn’t mind his son living with him?” Sam asked.

Kirsten and Foggy softened.

“Matt used to check on him more when we lived back home,” Foggy said. “Without him and Mike, Jack’s by himself. He’s got friends and work, yeah, but you know. If it weren’t for Mike, he’d come home to an empty apartment every night. Man’s got too much head trauma for that to be any kind of good. Mike looks after him—probably more than he lets anyone else. He’s too stubborn to let Matt try to help him.”

Aw, cute.

“Be prepared, Sammy,” Foggy said. “Jack’s already adopted you.”

Say what now?

---

Mr. Murdock didn’t outright say that Sam was puny and he was going to fix it, but Sam could see it in his disappointed gaze.

“Don’t like bread?” he asked as Sam chewed his way through an Uncrustable at the kitchen table. Sam froze with the sandwich in hand. He stared at it.

It was bread.

Surely, this was bread.

Right?

“Uh?” he tried.

“Don’t like the crusts?” Mr. Murdock asked him more gently.

Oh.

“I don’t mind them, these are premade though. You know, convenient,” Sam explained.

He got a stare impossible to read.

“Stay there,” Mr. Murdock decided.

It took too long for Sam’s brain to work out what had just happened, and by the time it had, it was too late. Matt stuck his head in the room and asked Sam why he’d told his dad that Matt was starving him.

Sam floundered and tried to explain the sandwiches. Matt absorbed this and rolled his whole head.

“Well, now he’s makin’ a week’s worth for you,” he sighed. “Wants you to eat the crust.”

Dude.

“It’s easier not to question it,” Matt sighed. “What kind of jelly do you want?”

---

Matt didn’t interrogate his father, but Mike did. Unrepentantly. He walked in as Sam was emphasizing that he didn’t want any kind of jelly and he’d make his own sandwiches and understood the entire situation faster than Sam could have possibly explained it.

“FATHER,” he roared. “Leave the boy alone, he’s not starvin’, he’s just short.”

Flattering. Thanks, asshole.

There was no response from the kitchen. Matt told Mike to ease off. Mr. Murdock was trying to be nice.

“There’s nice and then there’s rude,” Mike said.

“And you’re rude?” Matt offered.

There was a pause.

A warm hand found the space in between Sam’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry about both of ‘em, kid, they got rocks for brains, it ain’t their fault. Our grandfather was a caveman, you know how it is,” Mike said kindly.

Matt was not amused.

“It’s not a big deal,” he repeated. “I’ll eat ‘em if Sam doesn’t want ‘em.”

“And subject yourself to peanut butter hell for multiple days in a row, Maitiú?” Mike asked, scandalized.

Matt glared in the direction of the stairs.

“Some of us enjoy nut protein,” he said.

Sam blinked in shock as big hands slapped themselves over his ears.

“There are children present,” Mike hissed.

Sam found the guy’s middle fingers and yanked. Mike swore. Matt chuckled.

“He ain’t a baby,” he said fondly. “Sam’s a tough cookie.”

You’re damn right he was.

“Charming,” Mike grumbled as Matt abandoned them for the kitchen again. He scowled down at Sam. “What’s your gimmick then?” he asked.

Sam wondered if he could make his contacts come out by blinking slowly enough. It would be cool as fuck. It definitely wasn’t happening.

“I control typhoons,” he said.

Mike winced.

“Fuckin’ vigilantes,” he said.

---

Mr. Murdock gave Sam a second sandwich. He’d cut it into quarters.

“Matt says you don’t like jelly,” he said. “Bananas are better?”

Sam couldn’t help but like him.

“Yeah. I don’t eat much bread generally,” he said. “My family has always been more about rice.”

Mr. Murdock analyzed him.

“I can do rice,” he said.

Bless. It was okay, really.

“Do you like spicy things, Mr. Murdock?” Sam asked.

“Jack.”

Nice try.

“Spicy?” Sam repeated.

Mr. Murdock considered it.

“Not sure,” he said. “You mean like hot sauce? I ain’t fuck with that ghost pepper shit.”

Sam hummed.

“Before you leave, I’ll cook for you in return,” he said. “I won’t make it too spicy, cross my heart.”

Mr. Murdock considered this and then got a look in his eye that made Sam’s cheeks start to ache a little.

---

Matt told Sam to play nice. Matt told his father to play nice.

There was to be no hiding chilis in Mike’s pasta.

They were caught and scolded.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Murdock told Sam fondly, “There are other ways.”

---

Sam had never seen such outrage over a knot in a shoelace. Matt crossed his arms over his chest, seconds away from tapping his own foot.

“You said you were ready,” he reminded Mike for the fourth time.

“I know what I said,” Mike snapped at him. He’d dug through all the kitchen drawers to procure a metal skewer to apply to this situation.

“We’re going to be late,” Matt said. “I wait for my guide, she doesn’t wait for me.”

“Well she’s waitin’ today,” Mike said. “I swear to god—”

Mr. Murdock stroked the top of Tuesday’s head and asked Mike if he’d tried putting baby powder on it. Mike spat at him to mind his own business and went back to the knot. He managed it get it untangled and the shoe half on just in time to find the second one stuck in the third hole down.

He just about vibrated with fury.

Matt sighed loudly.

“Borrow mine already,” he said.

“Never.”

“Mike.”

“They’re blue. This outfit tolerates only warm colors, Matthew. ONLY warms.”

“We’re late.”

“Style waits for no man.”

“Well, clearly that ain’t the case, is it?”

Mike stood up sharply.

“I’m going to change,” he said. “And whatever elf tied these will rue the day. Mark my words.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll tell the elf—oh, my bad, the clown, Mike. It’s you. Get your life together. We’re late.”

Hilarious.

---

“Why don’t you move out here?” Sam asked Mr. Murdock as he watched Sam sand away at his latest secret project in Matt’s absence.

“Sun’ll kill me,” Mr. Murdock deadpanned.

“I thought so too, but it’s not so bad,” Sam said. “I miss the snow sometimes.”

Mr. Murdock cocked his head and then knelt down to take the sanding block out of Sam’s hands. He gestured for Sam to give him the hunk of wood in his hands, too.

“Matty says you don’t got papers,” he said.

Sam was surprised. Matt usually kept that secret locked tight. But Mr. Murdock didn’t seem to have any adverse reaction to it.

“No,” Sam admitted. “My mom brought me here when I was really little. I didn’t know what it meant to overstay a visa.”

Mr. Murdock hummed.

“Makes flying tricky,” he said.

Yeah.

“Bus, not too bad, though?”

Mm. Bus was better, yes.

“Train?”

Depended on the train.

“Hm. Well, if you get homesick or need busfare, you just give a shout, ya hear? You’re always welcome to stay with us.”

Aww.

“Or if you really hate yourself, I’m sure Mike would love to come pick you up.”

Oh god.

“He can drive?” Sam asked.

Mr. Murdock paused and held his face in his dusty palm.

“The day he got his license was the worst day of my life,” he said.

Sam snickered.

“Did you guys drive all the way here?” he asked.

“No, thank god.”

“Can you drive?”

“Son.”

Sam looked up from the block of wood into Mr. Murdock’s hazel eyes.

“I take two steps out of New York and I’m gone, that’s me dead. No, I don’t drive. Why the hell would I drive? Where the hell am I goin’?”

Wow, mood.

“I tried to drive once,” Sam said. “Reversed into a fire hydrant. Matt laughed so hard he cried.”

Mr. Murdock handed back the woodblock. It was much smoother than it had been. Sam was chocking that up to the muscles and the practice.

---

Matt and Mike got home and Mike announced that he was disowning that ‘putrid being’ that was the Swamp Monster beside him. Matt told Mr. Murdock that Mike didn’t approve of the swimming part of triathlon.

Mr. Murdock picked leaves out of his hair with supreme patience.

---

“So Dad’s officially decided that you’re his grandson,” Mike informed Sam out of nowhere that Sunday. “He prayed for you at church today.”

Sam almost dropped his wrench. That was so endearing his teeth hurt.

“It’s ‘cause I do woodwork,” he said. “He can smell the handyman on me.”

Mike cocked his head to the side. His eyes were blue like Matt’s. Their mom must have had blue eyes—or maybe hazel like Mr. Murdock’s.

“No,” Mike said. “It’s ‘cause he’s also been a grocery bagger, a janitor, and a contractor.”

He what now?

“He wants to know why you aren’t in college.”

Oh. well—

“Matt tried to explain, but you know, it ain’t clickin’. He don’t get the politics part of things sometimes. Gets confused why people make such a big deal when there’s obvious solutions in front of ‘em. It’s not all his fault, he barely got a highschool diploma back when ‘critical thinking’ wasn’t even a testing category. Anyways, he wants you to go to college. Thinks you’re too smart to be pushin’ paper.”

Sam was going to cry.

“I think he sees a lot of Matt in you,” Mike said with a squint. “So just as a warning, he’s unbearable. Always—well, no. More like 95% of the year. He’s alright around New Years when he’s tired. You can tell him to fuck off at any time, though.”

No, no. It was okay. It was nice to have…more family. That’s what it was.

“I hope you know what this means, Samuel,” Mike said.

Mmm no?

Mike’s hand clasped his shoulder.

“You can call me ‘uncle,’” he said.

Ah.

No, thanks.

---

Foggy and Kirsten couldn’t look at Sam without bursting into merciless laughter, which Sam had realized was a result of Mike’s vocal distress at his rejected offer of uncle-dom. Sam didn’t know what to tell him.

Mr. Murdock was nice. Enormous, yes, but very well meaning and gentle. His and Sam’s priorities and experience in life aligned neatly and Sam was slightly charmed by the way that he expressed himself verbally only to Matt and Mike.

Sam also didn’t hate Mike. He just didn’t want him to have uncle privileges. He didn’t see what was difficult about this.

“Mike’s got a history of rejection,” Foggy said. “And by that, I mean that every woman on the eastern seaboard has rejected him and he tries anyways.”

---

Matt came downstairs and told Sam to ignore everything Mike said to him all day. He also said that they were going out that night, so don’t burn fingers on the soldering iron.

Sam saluted in acknowledgement.

Forty minutes later there was a rap at his door followed by Mike saying through it that he wanted to show Sam something.

Sam did not open the door.

He heard Matt’s name being cursed on the other side.

---

Twenty minutes later there was another knock, this time with Mike saying that Mr. Murdock wanted to bond with Sam.

Sam nudged open his curtains and squinted hard into the backyard where he could see the vague shape of Matt chatting to his dad on the deck stairs, both apparently having a beer and shooting the shit.

This was a scam.

Sam would not be scammed.

He went back to the suit.

There was more cursing outside the door.

---

About half an hour later, there was a knock, followed by Mr. Murdock’s voice this time, asking Sam if his shoes were supposed to be on the front porch.

They were not.

This was playing dirty.

Sam ventured out to go right this wrong and ended up outside on the front porch with the conman himself. Mike closed the door after him triumphantly and proceeded to get them both locked out.

“Are you supposed to be a good conman or?” Sam asked.

Mike gaped at him.

“The best conman,” he said. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ve broken into a thousand houses and won two horses. I’ve got this.”

That was not comforting. Sam was not comforted.

“First, we gotta test all the windows, and, failing that, we get a rock or a gun,” Mike told him with a knowing finger.

Sam blinked at it and then up at Mike. The man’s shoulders twitched.

“Uh?” Mike said.

Ah. The eyes. No contacts today.

“Do you like them? They’re Prada,” Sam said to absolute silence.

“A brick,” Mike announced abruptly. “A brick works too. Like a rock but bigger.”

Okay, so they weren’t talking about it, gotcha. Look, a whole family’s worth of repression styles. Sam was glad that they had a full set of methods.

---

Sam broke into his own bedroom through the window. Mike clapped for him outside. Sam opted to leave him there.

---

He was sort of sad to see the Murdocks go, especially after seeing the effect that the most senior of them had on Matt.

Sam hadn’t seen him this chilled out. He visibly relaxed under his dad’s hand on the back of his neck. He tolerated the fussing and constant hair fixing and the fingers brushing at his cheeks and elbows. Mr. Murdock guided him with the same practiced ease that Foggy and Kirsten did, but his guiding was accompanied by a quiet, ongoing commentary about the street around them, which Sam hadn’t actually heard Foggy do in the same kind of way.

It was like Mr. Murdock was telling Matt a story everywhere they went.

He told him when there were flags hanging up a story above, waving in the wind. He told him about the hanging wire baskets of flowers that Sam forgot about. He huffed a bit while he talked about lines of traffic in the street and a vast lack of color in the group due to the absence of so many yellow cabs.

Mr. Murdock of course, had been Matt’s first ever guide. It only made sense that he had a specialized style of it, just for Matt.

And for Matt’s sake, Sam didn’t want him to go, but alas, New Yorkers, man. The city called them back to the coast like a siren.

“You take it easy, y’hear, kiddo?” Mr. Murdock told him at the airport.

Sam smiled and said that he’d try.

“Take care of yourself. I mean that. Out at night too.”

Copy that, big guy.

“Give us a hug.”

Oh??? A hug??? Sam loved hugs. Hugs were great. He was—er. Leaving this one with double the ribs from the cracks apparently.

Mr. Murdock released him to go break Matt in half and then Foggy and then Kirsten. Mike told him that he couldn’t avoid flying again by hugging people. He also warned Kirsten that he’d see her soon and that then, she was sure to fall for his charms.

Kirsten said that she would be waiting with bated breath, and then that was it. Three Murdocks again whittled down to one.

“God, I should have married your dad,” Foggy moaned.

Matt laughed at him.

“He’s plenty busy avoiding the gaze of every person over sixty in his building. Let him live,” he said. “Sam? Not too traumatized, I hope?”

Mm. Not so bad.

“Are you sure Mike’s your brother?” he asked.

“Unfortunately.”

Too bad.

“It’s fine, if we ever need a guy to distract the police, we’ve got him on retainer.”

That was true.

“They’ll come back?” Sam asked.

Matt paused before feeling for his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or we’ll go to them. I think you’d enjoy watching them in their natural environment.”

-----------

Hope that’s something for you anon!! I also hope you feel better!

#samuel chung #jack murdock #matt murdock #mike murdock #inimitable verse #fic #ficlet

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

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.

#The one where bucky gives tony a cookie and then watches him eat it #as i call it in my head #winteriron #buckytony #starkbucks #my fic

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

Plum Sized

Part 1: Congratulations Part 2: Im having your baby

The next few weeks had gone by in a blur. Harry had left again to do some more writing, promising he would be back for your next ultrasound and doctors appointment. Luke was still getting over the fact that you had just let Harry back into your life like that, but since Harry hadn't really been around much he was warming back up to the idea a little bit more and had started coming over more, specifically in the mornings which had been really hard for you. You had woken up every morning with extreme morning sickness. You couldn't eat for hours, you felt dizzy and threw up multiple times. Certain smells and foods just made you want to vomit at the thought.

You were laying in bed trying to avoid throwing up when Luke walked in with a smile. “Morning beautiful, figured you might still be sick and in bed so I brought you a smoothie. Shouldn't have any weird smells or anything so I thought it might be worth a shot.” He handed you a large smoothie and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing?”

You took the smoothie and thanked him before taking a small sip. It actually tasted amazing and nothing about it so far had made you sick so that was a big plus. “Not too bad....still just so nauseous. I mean the sight of food, the idea of food, it all just makes my stomach turn. I’m also just getting nervous about the appointment. I have to have my blood drawn and then we will probably find out the gender from that and of course it’s Harry’s first time going to an appointment so thats extra pressure because well because its Harry.” you sighed taking another sip and sitting up.

Luke nodded. “Have you heard much from him recently?”

“No...he’s been busy writing I think.” You bit your lip. Truth is after Harry had spent the night, he had waken up and left. You had hoped there might be something left to reconcile but he was really only interested in the baby. He had left the following afternoon even though you had asked him to stay. All you wanted was for him to actually step up, to be there for you the way he said he wanted to be. “He should be coming here tonight so that he doesn't miss the appointment..”

“Well I hope for your sake he does.”

“I’m sure he will but anyways lets talk about something else. What have you been up to? What’s new in your life?”

“Uh not a lot...I do have a date tomorrow though.”

“A DATE?!”

Luke laughed and grinned, “Yeah I met this girl, her name is Kayla and well we really hit it off so I’m taking her out tomorrow for a fun picnic lunch date. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“Im sure it will be, you plan the best dates. So where did the two of you meet?” you played with the styrofoam cup your smoothie was in distractedly as went on about meeting Kayla at a gas station. You wished Harry would plan cute dates, and care more about everything. You wished he would text you good morning and good night or check in throughout the day. You wanted more from a relationship but at the same time...you really only wanted Harry. It was a hard place to be in at the moment. Just thinking about it and how frustrated you were with him made you tear up. You wiped a tear and noticed Luke was looking at you weirdly. “Sorry what?”

“I asked if you were okay....you seem. I don't know...not okay?”

You laughed and wiped another tear away. “Yeah, I’m fine just been thinking.”

He nodded unsure but was willing to let it go for your sake. “Well I have to go get ready for work, but enjoy the smoothie and text me later to let me know you are okay and all good. Promise?”

“Promise. Thank you for the smoothie..You really are the best friend a girl could have.”

“I try” he squeezed your hand and then walked out, leaving you to your thoughts.

After a few hours of lounging around you decided to get up and be productive. You threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt and froze when you looked in the mirror. Your stomach had definitely grown, and a small baby bump was definitely visible. You light touched your stomach and smiled. It was all startling to feel real. You got to work, cleaning almost every room of your house and by the end everything was spotless and beautiful. You felt good. There was just something about a clean house that cleared your mind. It was almost 4:00 pm by the time everything was finished and you still hadn't heard from Harry. He was supposed to come home tonight so that he could take you to your appointment in the morning. *Hey, how's writing going? Think youre going to make it home for the appointment tomorrow?* you texted him. You sat waiting for a reply but when it didnt immediately come you decided to start on dinner. Tonight you were going to be making spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, nothing too fancy but still delicious. You were boiling the water and buttering bread when your phone buzzed. Harry’s face was on the screen so you quickly answered it. “Hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey love, look I’m in the middle of a song right now and I don't want to stop so I don't think I’m going to make it tomorrow.”

Your heart sank and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “But Harry this is a really important appointment. This is where we-”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be at the next one I swear.”

You didn’t even answer, just hung up the phone and went back to cooking. The whole night was spent thinking about Harry. How couldn't he want to be there? Why was writing more important than his family? Did he even care at all? You were frustrated, upset, hurt, and confused. None of it made sense. Harry always said that he wanted kids and he wanted to be the dad that was there at every moment. Yet here he was not even caring to show up and you were done with it. *Good luck writing. Don't bother in calling me anymore I think our baby will be better off without you in its life* you know it was a long shot, something meant to dig at him but you didnt care. You were done with letting Harry hurt you again. You were sitting on the floor crying when Luke walked in carrying two suits.

“Hey which should I wear- Are you okay?” he immediately knelt down, dropping the suits and rubbing your shoulders. “(y/n) are you okay?” You shook your head no. Luke got more worried. He tried scooping you into his arms. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“No.” you wiped your face and let out a shaky breath. “I think I just broke up with Harry again.”

Luke froze trying to decide what to say. He decided to play it safe, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, its not mine, its his. He just doesn't care.”

“He will one day, it just sucks he doesn't realize it now.” you nodded leaning into him. “So youre going alone tomorrow?”

You nodded again. “I’ll be okay.”

He sighed, “no. You shouldn't go through all of this alone. I’ll go. I’ll take you.”

“But your date..”

“I’ll reschedule. I have a friend in need.” You smiled and wiped your tears.

“Can I still pick out the outfit you wear?” Luke laughed and nodded standing up and then pulling you to your feet.

“Of course.” He looked at you and gave you a look.

“What?”

“Your belly...its like actually bigger.”

“Well I do have a baby inside me that grows everyday.” You laughed. “Today, at 12 weeks, the baby is the size of a plum.”

“A plum? How do you know that?”

“I have an app that tells me its size according to fruits every week.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “A plum. Who would've guessed.”

You laughed instantly feeling better. You held up the two suits and smiled. “The grey one. It brings out your eyes.” You smiled and handed it to him.

“That was a quick decision.”

“I’ve been your friend for forever. I know what you look good in.”

The rest of the night was spent lounging around. Luke had gone home, promising to pick you up for your appointment and you still hadn't gotten a response from Harry. You weren't really expecting one, but you had hoped he would say something. You decided turning in early was a good idea so you threw on Harry’s old t-shirt, the one you slept in every night and jumped into bed. You were exhausted so falling asleep was easy. You had awoken to the sound of the door opening. You laid in bed listening for other sounds but didnt hear anything. You covered your head with the blanket and tried thinking to if you had imagined it or not. Then you heard footsteps walking up the stairs. You panicked. You didnt know what to do. You grabbed your phone and looked for something you could attack an intruder with. The footsteps were getting closer and your heart was racing. The door opened and you were ready to dial 911. “(y/n)?” Harry’s voice whispered. You breathed out and turned on a light next to the bed.

“Harry what the hell!” you screamed. “I thought you were a robber or murderer or something. You cant do that!”

Harry walked in and smiled holding out a giant bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry...I didnt mean to scare you but I also didnt want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“What are you doing here.”

He sighed and walked to the bed sitting down next to you on the edge. “I came to apologize. I haven't been a good dad lately. I haven't even been good to you. I got so distracted trying to please the fans with this next album that I was forgetting what's more important. My family. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I promised you I would be here and be present and then I wasnt but this time I will be. I want to be there for you. I want to be there for this little one.” He touched your belly and smiled. “Im done writing for now. At least leaving to write. I want to be here, with you, as much as possible. I want us to work on whatever this is and to experience all the baby stuff together.”

“Harry-”

“Please (y/n)....give me one more chance...I promise not to screw it up.” He placed his head down by your stomach and your fingers immediately went to his hair. You sighed and he looked up.

“Fine. One more chance but if you screw this up Harry you won't be in my life or the baby’s.”

“Trust me love, I won't screw it up again.” He kissed your forehead and set the flowers on the nightstand. He then stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He pulled you against his chest and trailed fingers down your belly. “Did you know that the baby is the size of a plum today. Like an actual plum, isn't that crazy?”

You laughed and turned towards him. You touched your nose to his and smiled. He kissed you softly and smiled back. “I’m glad youre here Haz” you snuggled into him and he held on tightly.

“Me too.” He rubbed your back until you fell asleep and part of you expected him to be gone when you woke up. Just a dream. An imagination. But when your alarm went off and your eyes opened, you were snuggled against his chest, his body gently snoring like the angel he was. You rolled over and snoozed the alarm before returning to him. You traced his butterfly tattoo until he cracked his eyes open with a smile. “Morning.” he whispered deeply.

“Morning.” you smiled before climbing out of bed.

“Where are you going” he groaned sitting up in the white comforter. “Im exhausted...cant we stay in bed a little longer.”

You walked over to his side, knelt down and kissed his nose. “We have an appointment so get up and get ready.” You smiled and stretched. Harry jumped out of bed and froze watching you. “Whats wrong?”

“Your belly...I can actually see the plum size. That is so cool.” “Wait until you see the baby at the appointment.” you smiled walking into his embrace. “We should be able to see actual features today. It won't be just a blob anymore.”

You were getting ready and so was Harry, except he was pretty much done. He was in his black skinny jeans, a tshirt and a sweater vest. “Do I look like a dad?”

You laughed and nodded. “You look like a hot dad though.” He grinned and kissed you about to respond when the doorbell rang. “Can you get that, its probably Luke.”

“Luke?”

“Yeah he's coming today too.”

“Great...” Harry mumbled walking downstairs to answer the door. You finished throwing your hair in a pony tail and picked one of Harry’s smaller shirts, the one with his album title along a heart with his name, before running downstairs. Luke and Harry were just staring, no glaring at each other.

“Hey” you smiled hugging Luke. “Ready to go?” Harry and Luke nodded and you followed them outside.

“Whats the deal?” Luke harshly whispered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back.

“What?” you played innocently.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s the dad Luke..”

“Yeah but I thought you were done with him.”

“I was...but I feel like I owe it to the baby to give him another chance. He showed up last night and promised to be here. I’m not just going to say no Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes and you pulled your arm from his grip to catch up to Harry. He smiled and grabbed your hand. “Ready to see our little baby love?”

You nodded and climbed into the car. Harry decided he wanted to drive so Luke jumped in the backseat. The car ride there was silent, no one really talking but when we got to the waiting room you told Harry to check you in so you could run to the bathroom. The nurse was waiting with the two guys and you followed her in. She retook your weight, stating that you had gained a little which was normal. She then took all three of you into a room where you changed into a gown and waited. Harry was anxiously pacing the room and Luke was just glaring at Harry when the doctor walked in. “(y/n) so nice to see you again, are you ready to see the baby?” You nodded as he looked to the two guys. “Who do we have here today?” he asked. Harry stepped forward and extended his hand.

“I’m Harry, its a pleasure to meet you.” he smiled and gave you a reassuring wink.

“Harry is the dad.” you added looking at the doctor. He nodded and smiled.

“Its nice to meet you Harry. And you?” he looked over at Luke.

“Oh, I’m Luke. I’m (y/n)’s friend.”

“Nice to meet you too. Alright lets see what we got here. He turned the lights lower and squirted the cold gel on your stomach earning a surprised look from Harry which made you laugh. “Have you been having any symptoms?”

“Yeah I’ve had morning sickness quite a bit lately.”

“Ah, thats a normal but unfortunate one.” He was scrolling around your stomach looking for the baby. “Has it been manageable?”

“Yeah its not been too terrible, I’m still feeling good most of the day.”

“Good thats what we want. Ah here it is...” Harry grabbed your hand and smiled looking at the screen. “So you can see here is the head, the butt, an arm, a leg, everything seems to be there. Let’s see if we cant get the heartbeat.” Luke looked a little sick but smiled when you looked at him and Harry was in awe.

“I think she looks like you..”

“How do you know its a she?” you asked surprised.

“I just feel like its going to be.”

“I feel like its going to be a boy, and I think he looks like you.” Harry smiled shaking his head. He was about to respond when you heard the familiar thump thump thump of a heartbeat. Harry had tears falling down his cheek. You smiled and wiped them away.

“That’s amazing.” he looked at the doctor with a smile. “Thank you for showing us that.”

The doctor nodded, flipping the light back on and handing you a towel to wipe your stomach. “Okay, you look good the baby looks good but we do want to do a blood test..From this you can find out the gender if you like.”

“Yes.” You said and looked at Harry.

“I think we should wait...let it be a surprise.” Harry said looking at you.

“Harry its not your decision.” Luke intervened.

“Its my baby too. I think we should wait.” He said pointedly at Luke.

“It should be (y/n)s decision. She's the one carrying it.”

“Well I think we both would have fun waiting.” Harry looked at you and you looked down.

“You haven't even been here. You don't have a say in it.”

“Luke,” you cut him off. “It is Harry’s baby too. He's the one here now and thats all that matters. Why don't we wait now and we can always decide later to look.”

Harry smiled and nodded at you, then glared at Luke. Luke just rolled his eyes. “whatever.” The doctor took your blood, explaining that it would also test for some genetic defects and diseases and that you would receive a call in the next few days with the results. You held Harry’s hand the whole time while talking to Luke so luckily you did not faint. Harry helped you to your feet, and held onto you to make sure you weren't going to drop back at any notice. You smiled and gave him a reassuring kiss. He let you go a little but still tightly held your hand. You set up another appointment and then walked out with your guys. Harry opened the car door for you and Luke climbed in the back seat. After ensuring you were buckled the three of you drove home. Luke left without saying a word and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What an asshole.”

You lightly smacked his arm and smiled. “He will come around. Trust me.”

Harry’s only response was a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we need to go by my place and pick up some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Like all of it.”

“Why?”

“Well I figured we should probably live together so I can help out with everything..” Your mouth dropped open. “Unless thats not okay...” he added concerned he had overstepped.

“No. No I would love that...I just didnt think thats what you would want.”

“(y/n) I know the last few months have been rocky with us but I want to be here all the time with you. I love you and I want us to make things work. If me being here to help, mends that? I’ll never leave the house again.” He kissed your softly and you smiled.

“I love you Haz.”

“I love you too love.”

---

Part 3 of the pregnancy series, hope you guys like it :) There wasnt a lot of action in this chapter but just wait for the next ;)

xoxo

#one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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kineticallyanywhere · 4 years

Note

I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain.

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers.

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.)

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s”

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions.

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go.

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse.

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while.

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin.

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller.

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts.

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he?

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess.

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it.

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more.

(Barry didn’t like that.)

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things.

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life— Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn— Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird. Henry: Glenn. Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or— Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard.

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off.

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow.

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him.

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow.

The kids are flipping out outside.

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again.

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens.

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this? Ron: i can do it TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????”

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc?

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes.

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car.

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever.

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now.

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid? Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it Henry: well... i don't care what he wants Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth? Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right? Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien? Glenn: obviously Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next. Glenn: your interdimensional kids Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again. Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door.

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow.

Bear Ry’Oak is not that.

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad.

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald. Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less) Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart.

Ron: We found the door! Darryl: what door? Ron: the one in Henry's head! And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it? Henry: no Ron: a little bit Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there Ron: his dad came out of it Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born. Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH.

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air.

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it.

#jakalboy #dndads #aus #fusion aus #dungeons and daddies #me talking #my writing

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth — I.II: Curosity Killed the Cat

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, descriptions of death and murder, mentions of blood, mentions of traumatic experiences, mention of reader having an anxiety attack, etc.

word count: 6,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

“Jihyo, please just—OW!” Pain shoots like electricity through your limbs as your hip catches the railing of the stairwell while your ankle rolls dangerously along the edge of the top step. You cling to your roommate’s shoulders, trying to find balance in the midst of her steel-like grip to avoid inevitably breaking a bone… or your entire body.

“Shit. Sorry, (Y/N).” Jihyo murmurs apologetically, hoisting your arm higher around her shoulders. You bite back a frustrated retort and instead, find the patience to allow your support to haul you toward your shared apartment’s door. There’s honestly no need for Jihyo’s help in scaling the stairways, seeing as somehow, after the incident in the alleyway, you were completely unscathed, but she insisted. And when Jihyo puts her mind to something, there’s no pulling her out.

Jihyo kicks open the door after unlocking it, and tugs you forward with a proud grin, “Home sweet home. All in one piece.”

“The bruise on my hips says otherwise,” You groan, breathing a sigh of relief when you finally escape her hold. “I think I’m more hurt than I was in the actual hospital.”

“Hush, child.” Jihyo drags the warm jacket from your shoulders before bending down to undo the laces of your boots. You sigh, but make no complaint about her fussing—you’d only receive another long lecture anyway. After another minute or two, Jihyo finishes sliding off your boots and guides you into the living room. Your eyes meet the sight of Sana nestled inside the giant, olive beanbag cushion, and two unfamiliar girls settled on the sofa beside her.

“Look who’s home!” Jihyo calls cheerfully, turning the three sets of eyes away from the Pretty Little Liars rerun playing on the TV screen and in your direction. In the blink of an eye, Sana leaps from her seat and throws herself against your body. You almost lose your balance from the force of impact, but manage to return her hug without fault.

“I was so worried when Mark called us,” Sana’s arms tighten around your waist. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“I’ll try,” You rub her back, “I’m okay, Sana.”

“You should sit down, (Y/N).” You pull from your friend’s embrace to nod at Jihyo, accepting the spot on the sofa where one of the girls had given up for your benefit. You shoot her a grateful smile, receiving a shy one in return.

“Oh, that’s right! (Y/N), Jihyo, this is Mina, and Momo—” Sana points to each girl with their respected names, “the friends from my high school in Japan I was telling you guys about. They’re visiting for a few weeks.”

“Welcome to Moon Dye,” Jihyo nods politely. “Sorry about all this chaos right off the bat. (Y/N), here, managed to land herself in the hospital last night.”

“It’s a long story.” You chuckle, your cheeks growing hot at both Mina and Momo’s concerned stares. “But I’m perfectly fine. Good as new.”

“What even happened, (Y/N)?” Sana asks curiously while lowering onto the arm of the couch beside you. You open your mouth to answer, but Jihyo’s voice emerges instead:

“(Y/N)’s already had a rough enough night as it is. Let’s not put her on the spot.” Again, you try to protest your good health, but the girls had already moved to a new subject by the time you open your mouth.

To be honest, you still don’t believe the story that you fell in that dark alley, hit your head and knocked yourself out—the one that everyone is shoving down your throat. Even Mark didn’t believe you when you tried to explain the details you remember from last night. His words were similar to the very ones that Jinyoung had said: ‘You hit your head, (Y/N). Your memory is probably all sorts of fucked up.’

But he’s wrong. Jinyoung is wrong. Everyone else is wrong. You know you were attacked, and maybe you don’t know what it was, but someone—something tried to kill you. And it was pretty damn close… but that just begs another question: How the hell did you survive and come out with not even a scratch?

“—was just so sudden. I just couldn’t believe it when I heard the news.” You return to reality just in time to see Jihyo shake her head, a pained expression written across her round face. “I mean, how does something like that just happen? You know?”

“What are you talking about?”

Four pairs of eyes turn at your voice as Sana answers, “Im Nayeon was found dead in Eclipse Cemetery. My mom said she was killed by an animal.” You heard Mark mention Nayeon’s name a few times in past conversations, but had never spoken to the woman herself. She works in a tiny shop in Poison Square, Moon Dye Bay’s most infamous shopping complex, reading tarot cards and giving fortunes—she worked there, that is. Still, Mark and Nayeon were friends, so he must have known. Is that why he broke down at the hospital? But why wouldn’t he tell you?

Your eyebrows furrow, “An animal? How is that possible?”

“What goes around, comes around.” You perk up as one of Sana’s friends, Momo, you believe, speaks up for the first time. She returns your glance with a blank stare, which sends a violent chill up your spine, “It happens to the best of us.”

“How can you say that?” You scoff, “A girl is dead—”

“I’m so sorry,” The other friend, the one who relinquished her seat, Mina steps in this time, “My sister can be a little intense sometimes. She didn’t mean it in a condescending way.”

“You’re sisters?”

Mina shrugs, “Fostered, actually. We’ve kind of just… stuck together.”

You nod, “I get it. I was a foster kid too.” Mina nods too, but doesn’t say anything in response. As she’s turning back to the surrounding trio, your eyes catch sight of a shiny, gold necklace tucked into the collar of her shirt. You can’t see the charm on the end, but just by the chain, it looked ancient. Probably a family heirloom of some sorts.

Your mind returns back to Nayeon before wandering to your own attacker. At the connection, your blood runs cold. Is it possible that whatever monster that attempted to take your life had succeeded in ensnaring Nayeon’s instead? It may explain the reluctance toward your true story, and the attacker’s animal-like behavior… but what of your miraculous recovery? And what does Jinyoung have to do with any of this?

Something is going on in Moon Dye Bye… and you’re going to find out what.

“By the way, Momo, I love your tattoo.” You barely catch Jihyo’s comment as you rise from the sofa and begin to make your way toward your bedroom. You hadn’t gotten much sleep at the hospital, partly because of Mark, and partly because you just couldn’t find the will to close your eyes. To be honest, you don’t even know if you’ll be able to catch sleep in your own bed any better. Too lost in your own exhaustion, you don’t catch Sana’s laugh just as you’re shutting your bedroom door:

“Momo doesn’t have a tattoo, Ji! Are you sure you’re not the one who hit her head!?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The fogginess of his dreamworld fades as Mark gradually begins to awaken from his slumber. He parts his eyelids, only to immediately shut them with an annoyed hiss as a ray of sunlight stabs into his sensitive pupils. To escape the day’s wrath, he rolls to his opposite side and away from the lone window, reminding himself to invest in a set of curtains in the near future.

Mark forces his upper body upward on the sofa. He groans, the movement placing a strain on his back, and lifts his arms over his head to alleviate the knots of his muscles. With a sigh, Mark wipes the remnants of a poor night’s sleep from his face before glancing back to the window. Judging by the brightness of the sun, he must have slept through the entire morning and early afternoon.

Mark sighs again, recalling the gruesome nightmares that plagued his slumber: Nayeon’s loud screams stabbing into his soul as an unfamiliar shadow drove a large knife into her immobile body over and over again until he could feel her blood splattering all across his skin. Then, in the midst of his terror, Nayeon’s face would shift to yours… and he could do nothing but watch as the monster stole the life from your eyes…

He pushes the thought away, suddenly nauseous, and rises from the sofa, heading toward the small kitchenette in the corner to start up a pot of coffee. As he passes the window, Mark notices a couple figures congregating around an array of chipped, ancient headstones. At first, Mark believes them to be the forensic cleaners finishing up the removal of the crime scene, but he catches the sight of the back of Youngjae’s head… and someone he definitely does not want to see.

“God fucking damnit—” He curses to himself, abandoning his coffee and stomping outside with the beginnings of a sneer pulling across his face. At the call of his name, both Youngjae and his companion turn to face Mark just as he reaches their meeting place, “What the hell is he doing here!?”

“I’m sorry, hyung… I thought it’d be better if I didn’t tell you about this…” Mark glares at the younger who seems to shudder beneath its intensity. Youngjae looks down guiltily, before silently mumbling something to himself.

“Don’t be upset with him,” At the voice, Mark shifts his angry gaze to the vampire. “I came on my own accord. I want to make a proposition.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, right? Why would we ever want to make a deal with you?”

“Because I can help you find out who killed your seer.” Jinyoung replies coolly, reaching inside the pocket of his casual, navy blazer to pull out a pocket-sized, leather-bound book with cream colored pages. He offers it to Mark, “This is an old journal that belonged to a powerful witch who was a descendant in a long line of Pagan Witchcraft. It contains thousands of ancient scriptures and symbols dating back to the first century.”

Mark snatches the book and immediately begins to flip through it. None of the text encrypted along the pages are anything he’d ever seen before, likely being written in a different language. He allows the cover to shut and passes it to Youngjae before narrowing his eyes at Jinyoung, “How did you know we were looking for an old symbol?”

“I have contacts at the morgue, so I paid her body a visit myself.” Mark bites back a frustrated slur and wills himself to let the vampire finish, “In all the centuries I’ve been alive, I have only seen a symbol like that once—in dark magic.” The loathing Mark feels for Jinyoung completely vanishes at the mention of the dark arts, shifting back into the nausea from before. “I believe whoever killed your seer drew power from something, be it a spell or an object, in order to gain enough strength to overpower her, which means—”

“Whatever doing this is supernatural.” Youngjae finishes with a grimace, “They must have used dark magic to strip her of her powers before she was killed. I couldn’t trace any magic use from her body.”

“She’s not the first.” Again, Jinyoung retracts a set of papers from his jacket and hands them to Mark, “I’ve traced hundreds of unexplained deaths in dozens of towns. Each witch had that same symbol carved into their chest.”

“They’re specifically targeting covens— ” Mark breathes, glancing over the provided documents, “Slaughtering them and… fucking hell.”

Jinyoung nods, “You and your people need to be careful. Whoever is doing this will try to kill again.” Mark hesitates for a moment before mindlessly closing his hand into a fist, crushing the papers in his grasp. He resumes his glare at the vampire.

“What’s in it for you? Why are you helping us?”

Jinyoung’s eyes soften, “This town has already seen enough death. I don’t wish for it to see anymore.”

Jinyoung’s response delivers a harsh punch to Mark’s gut, leaving him almost breathless. Unwanted memories rush into his head like a parasite—the guilt he had pushed down so long ago beginning to eat away at his soul. Too lost inside his own head, Mark remains silent as Jinyoung and Youngjae exchange a couple final words, before the former gestures toward the book in the younger’s hands.

“I have places to be, but let me know if you manage to find the symbol. I’ll see if I can find more information about the murdered covens.” The vampire offers a nod of farewell and turns to leave, but surprising himself, Mark snaps from his headspace and calls out:

“Jinyoung…!”

Jinyoung halts to peer over his shoulder, “Yes?” Mark hesitates again, somewhere in between what seems to be long-harbored resentment and mental exhaustion. His eyes glance toward the gravel pathway meters away where Nayeon’s corpse had laid only hours ago, until his mind shifts to thoughts about you: The warmth of your arms… The genuine promise of your voice… The gleam of your eyes… All of his anger immediately dissipates.

He nods, “I don’t want anyone else to die either.” Jinyoung merely blinks in response before continuing his journey toward the exit of the cemetery. Mark watches his silhouette fade into the glare of the afternoon sun with the documents still tightly grasped in his palms. Only once the vampire is out of sight does he release a sigh and face his younger companion:

“Call Minho, Jisung and Lia, and get them all here.” Mark combs a hand through his hair with a huff, “No one leaves my sight until we catch this fucker and put them so far underground, they won’t be able to climb back up from Hell.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Splashes of water splatter across your ankles and wet the bottom of your jeans as you sprint through a massive array of puddles. Although it does little to protect your body from the pouring rain, you tug your jacket tighter around your shoulders. The one evening you choose to take a spur-of-the-moment book run to escape your overdramatic and overbearing roommates, it has to be raining cats and dogs. Luckily, the town’s only bookstore is not too far from your apartment.

You manage to reach the shop just as the wind begins to pick up and hurriedly push past the door. A sigh falls past your lips, briefly pausing to relish the warm, rain-free atmosphere before receding further into the store. Ever since you moved to Moon Dye, the Bookshop of Lullabies has become one of few places you frequent often. It’s a quaint, little place stuffed from top to bottom with texts of all kinds, and barely enough space for a single person to squeeze through the aisles. If you travel deep enough through the maze of shelves, there’s a tiny nook complete with a window seat and throw cushions softer than a bed of silk—you like to spend a lot of your time cuddled up there with a nice book.

“Look who finally decided to show up and cure my boredom. Good thing—I was just thinking about chewing my arm off.” Unsurprised, you turn to find a familiar face behind the cashier counter. One that, like the store itself, you have seen quite often.

You first met Bambam through Mark—the two were friends in high school—at a dinner event his mother, the mayor of Moon Dye, held for his birthday. Aside from the occasional rich kid personality quirks, you’ve found Bambam to be quite a humble and reliable person, especially in providing you discounted books and helpful tips for living in town.

“Hello to you too, Bam.” You smile. “How are things?”

Bambam shrugs, “Slow day, and the rain really doesn’t help. Anyway, what are you looking for today? Maybe an edgy dystopian with way too much backstory? Or a sickeningly sweet love story where the simp dies? ”

“I'll honestly take anything you deem acceptable at this point.”

“You’re giving me way too much trust there, babygirl.” He chuckles, pilfering through a nearby box of books in order to gratify your request. “Mark told me you had a pretty rough spill last night. You okay?”

“To be completely honest—not really.” You traipse over to the counter and lay your bag across its surface. Bambam moves aside some books to make room before offering a nearby stool for you to sit, “I just, I’m still confused on what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody says I fell and hit my head, but I don’t think that’s what happened—no—” You shake your head, “I know that’s not what happened, but it’s like everyone is just, I don’t know… hiding something.” Through the corner of your eye, you notice how Bambam’s shoulders tense at your comment, but brush it off as an odd tick. “But I guess what I don’t understand is why they’d want to… I mean, Mark would never keep something that important from me…” Once again, the clerk’s body fidgets uncomfortably—this time, furthering the suspicion brewing in your gut.

Your eyes narrow, “Bam… Do you know something that I don’t?”

He seems to hesitate, running a hand through his tousled ivory-dyed tresses before peering toward the door, as if expecting someone else to enter. You open your mouth to pry, but Bambam’s answer beats you to it, “There’s a lot of things I know that you don’t…”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean—?”

“It means that this town has secrets…” The abrupt change in his tone increases the uneasiness in your stomach, temporarily changing your frustrated mood to one of fear. A violent shiver crawls down your spine at his next words, “...secrets that can get you killed.”

“What secrets?” Your annoyance returns at his ambiguous response, “What does this have to do with what happened to me last night?”

“Well, you were attacked, weren’t you?”

Your blood turns cold. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I told you, I know a lot of things.” He releases a sigh before bending down to disappear behind the wood of the counter. He returns only seconds later with a seemingly old, leather-bound book clutched in both hands. You watch, wide-eyed like a fish, as he slides the object toward you.

“This journal belonged to my great-, great-, great-grandmother, the first ever mayor of Moon Dye Bay.” Bambam begins, watching closely as you cautiously grab the text as if it would turn to dust in your grasp. “It contains private information about the town you won’t find anywhere else.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“I’m pointing you in the right direction.” He states matter-of-factly, “If you live in this town, you should know what you’re up against.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because if anyone were to find out, it would be dangerous for the both of us.”

“But why—?”

“Please just trust me on this, (Y/N).” You can do nothing but stare at Bambam, your thoughts too much of a jumbled, chaotic mess to come up with another reply. You want to insist—you want to insist over and over again until the clerk eventually spills—but you know it’s hopeless. There are few moments where Bambam is ever this serious, so whatever mess you managed to get yourself into—it’s crucial.

You finally nod after another eon of silence and tuck the old journal inside your bag, “How much?”

“Consider it a six-month late welcome-to-town gift.” Bambam’s poor attempt at humor does little to lift your spirits, but you still scrounge up a weak smile and an even weaker thank you. As you make your way toward the exit, you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, and for once in a lifetime, you can’t wait to head out into the pouring rain. Just as you’re pushing through the door, Bambam calls out:

“Hey, babygirl?”

You turn with a sigh, “What is it, Bam?”

“Just be careful, okay?” He murmurs heavily, “Those monsters that used to hide under our beds when we were kids, well… They grew up too.” You don’t bother to answer, send the clerk a parting nod and take off into the blurriness outside the bookstore. Your lungs welcome the damp air, attempting to soothe the racing of your heart with each breath. Even though you’re all wrapped up in your coat, your hands still tremble.

If what Bambam said is true, and this town is hiding something, and you eventually do find out what that something is, then how badly will it change your life? You moved to Moon Dye Bay to escape the traumas of your past… not to create new demons that will haunt your mind day and night. It’s been so long since you’ve felt what it feels like to belong somewhere, but then… Do you really want a place full of darkness, secrets and lies as a home?

You quickly dash across the street, barely avoiding an approaching car driving way over the given speed limit. The rain only makes the atmosphere more ominous, both obscuring your vision and deafening your ears. Images from last night pop into your head which fuels the hurriedness of your pace. You can’t seem to control your breathing, or the anxiety swallowing your form.

What if that monster was following you as you think? Is he aching to finish the job he failed to last night, and take your life as his prize? What if there’s no miracle there to save you this time? What if you die in a wet, dark alleyway where nothing but the rats can—?

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” You hadn’t realized somewhere in your rush you’d paused to rest against the building, awakening from your panicked trance at the warm voice that invades your ears like honey. You quickly compose yourself, shove your now vibrating hands in the pocket of your coat, and turn to face the familiar face with a confused expression.

“Jinyoung? Are you following me?”

“Where would you get an idea like that?” Jinyoung hurriedly pulls you underneath the awning of a shop and out of the rain. “I just left the police station and saw you out here by yourself. You seem… stressed.”

“Aside from wet socks, I’m alright.” You shake your head, “Why were you at the police station?”

“I had some business to take care of,” He answers, obviously not desiring to provide any more details to satiate your curiosity. “Anyway, what brings you out in this weather?”

“Honestly, I just needed to escape from my crazy, overbearing roommates.” You shake the rain from your hair with a chuckle, “Just left the bookstore actually.”

“I didn’t take you for the bookworm type.”

“What? Just because I don’t exude the ‘shy, silent, glasses-wearing’ stereotype?”

Jinyoung chuckles at your comeback, the sound gritty and amused, before placing a hand over his chest, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, choose your words more carefully then.”

He nods with a smile, “I’ll definitely do that.” The raindrops pelting against the top of the awning creates a comfortable rhythm as you and Jinyoung fall into a heavy silence. Jinyoung continues to wear his tight, close-lipped smile while you continue to stare, not knowing whether to comment on his odd talent in appearing out of nowhere or reminisce in the storminess of his brown irises. You choose neither, and opt to end the conversation where it is:

“It was really nice to see you again, but I should get back before the weather turns into a full-blown hurricane.”

“That would probably be best,” Jinyoung steps aside, allowing you the room to pass by, and hums, “It’s always a pleasure, (Y/N).” You shoot him a grateful smile before launching back into the raging of the storm, immediately missing his uniquely charming aura and caramel-like gaze. Just from the interaction with Jinyoung, both your mind and body feel much more relaxed and in a way… almost safe.

Too deep in your own thoughts, you fail to catch the second shadow that slinks out of a nearby alleyway and behind Jinyoung’s broad body.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Have you lost your goddamn mind!?” Mark pinches the bridge of his nose at the high-pitched wail of the fuming, dark-haired witch, suddenly craving a drink to take the edge off of his nerves. Maybe they have some leftover grey goose in the cupboard— “You must have, cause you just made a deal with the fucking devil!”

“Can you at least try not to yell?” From the center of a nearby ring of burning candles and sage on the floor, Lia sighs in annoyance, “I’m pretty sure the entire town can hear you at this point.”

“Shut up!” Minho hisses at the female, before replacing his laser-like glare back on Mark. “I mean, you do understand how utterly stupid this entire thing is, right!? Things suddenly turn to shit and you run to those bloodsucking bastards for help!?”

“He gave us a book, Minho. It’s not like I signed our souls away.”

He scoffs, “You might as well have! Didn’t it ever occur to you that the Primes just want an opportunity to pick us off like flies? I mean, how do we know they weren’t the ones that killed Nayeon?”

“Youngjae’s tracking spell would have picked up their trail.” Mark sluggishly walks toward the stove, retrieving the whistling kettle before its volume reaches that of a shrill scream. He sighs and generously refills his coffee cup, “And you know very well that if they wanted us dead, we would have been in the ground months ago.”

“You’re not listening to me!” Mark takes a sip of the steaming stimulant, the liquid doing nothing to ease the pounding of his head as Minho continues to rant, “We are all going to end up dead! We should have run them out of town when we had the opportunity in the first place—”

“Oh my fucking god! Can you shut your mouth for a goddamn second!?” Lia’s anger sends chaos throughout the mausoleum. Jisung barely avoids a barrage of books spilling from their shelves while Youngjae ducks in time for a potted plant to fly over his head and shatter against the wall. Lia storms across the room, a trail of hot flames following her steps, and pokes a single finger into Minho’s chest with a sneer, “Nayeon-unnie is dead, okay!? And there is a psycho out there right now with their eyes on another witch in this room!? Mark is doing the best he can so it’s not your moronic ass that’s next on the hit list!”

Minho remains silent, visibly surprised by the younger witch’s outburst. For a moment, Mark notices a spark of guilt behind his eyes before they shift to their usual cold exterior.

“I don’t want anyone else to die, okay? But making a truce with one of the oldest vampires in existence is not a good plan—”

“Well, it’s the only plan we have right now.” Mark sighs, “I do what’s best for my people—to keep you safe.”

Minho stares coldly at Mark, “Yeah, just like you kept Jackson safe. Right?”

Stunned by the witch’s sudden question, Mark is both physically and mentally unable to respond. He simply stares back at Minho with his jaw practically dropped to the floor. Minho shamelessly meets his eyes, as if finding joy out of Mark’s shock.

“Hey, guys…” The brief moment of tension breaks at Youngjae’s call, who all this time, had been stationed behind the lectern flipping through the journal Jinyoung had gifted only hours ago. Mark feels the many cups of coffee sitting in his stomach churn at the absolute terror spread along Youngjae’s face. Though at his next words, Mark almost believes his entire insides turn inside-out, “I found the symbol that was on Nayeon’s body…

“It means ‘Hunter’.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung watches your silhouette recede into the blur of the rain with a smile. His mind reels back to your conversation, and how prettily your eyes shimmered in the mist. If it were any other person, Jinyoung wouldn’t care much for the spitfire-type of attitude, but with you… He actually enjoys your ferocious nature. It showcases your livelihood—and mortal strength.

Jinyoung had planned to keep his word to Mark and steer clear, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when he spotted you standing in the midst of the storm. Something inside him is drawn to you, almost like a moth to a flame. It excites him, but startles him all the same. Never before has Jinyoung felt such a magnetic pull to another person—certainly not a human woman. Though, the rational voice in the back of his head still believes some part of you is not all that mortal…

A wave of chill dampens the cheeriness of his mood, pulling a sigh of annoyance from his lips. He doesn’t have to turn around to feel the stealthy presence behind him. With one last glance toward the direction in which you vanished, and another huff, Jinyoung tugs on the lapels of his blazer and speaks:

“Following me again, hyung?”

A deep-set chuckle carries into Jinyoung’s ears, “In all our centuries together, I’ve never quite succeeded in getting anything past you… huh, Jinyoungie?” Jinyoung turns to face his brother, immediately growing more annoyed at his usual, nonchalant stance complete with lazily crossed arms, tilted head and a devious smirk along his lips. “Though, if I knew any better, I’d believe you’re not exactly thrilled to see me?”

“Well, do you know any better?”

Jaebeom laughs, “You’re still upset with me. What else is new.”

“Forgive me if I’m not jumping through the roof because of your erratic behavior.” Jinyoung shoots his brother a glare before shoving his right hand in the respected pocket of his jeans. “Nine bodies all drained of blood, hyung. Do you not understand the concept of remaining inconspicuous?”

“What can I say? I was rather famished last night.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom with a blank expression, “Does human life mean that little to you? Truly?”

Jaebeom releases a heavy sigh, pushes off the brick wall in which he was leaning against, and takes a couple steps forward until he and Jinyoung are only inches from sharing oxygen. He provides his younger brother another smirk and shrugs, “There was a time we used to share the same perspective, brother. And if I remember correctly, you were much, much worse than I am.”

“That is in the past.”

“Ah. Of course.” Jaebeom retracts a silver-coated lighter from the pocket of his black, shredded jeans. Jinyoung watches the older play with the tool, repeatedly striking the light over and over again as he continues, “So… Are you going to tell your dear brother about the lovely girl that’s caught your eye?”

Jinyoung’s patience immediately gives out at your mention. His features pull into a sneer, glaring at the amusement spreading along Jaebeom’s face.

“Leave it alone.”

“You do like her then?” Jaebeom’s smirk widens to a grin, “Wow. I’d never thought I’d live to see the day Park Jinyoung falls for a human.” Jinyoung tries to keep his self-control intact as Jaebeom proceeds to laugh, lifting the flame of the lighter up to the level of his eyes—malice visibly flickering in the light of his irises. “She must be very, very special…”

Jinyoung growls, “I said, leave it alone. I’m not playing your games now, hyung.”

“I only want to know what sweet (Y/N) has done to gain my little brother’s attention. Maybe it’s her spunk? Or her beautiful face? Or just maybe, the delectable taste of her delicious blo—” In the blink of an eye, Jinyoung has Jaebeom pressed against the same wall he was leaning against only moments before with an arm at his throat. Jinyoung can actually see his own rage in the reflection of Jaebeom’s black eyes.

“You will stay away from her.” Jinyoung murmurs dangerously, relishing proudly in Jaebeom’s stunned expression. “Do not push me on this. Or I will push back.” Jinyoung releases his hold on his brother, pausing to straighten out the wrinkles of his blazer. Jaebeom continues to stare at the younger with bewilderment, unable to say anything in response.

An annoyed breath leaves Jinyoung’s lips as he peers down at his watch, “I’m late. We will discuss this when I return back to the manor.” He shoots Jaebeom a pointed glance, “Please refrain from getting yourself into any more trouble. If you even can.” Without as much as a goodbye, Jinyoung brushes past Jaebeom and into the rain that’s coming down even heavier. He tries not to think about the paranoia and fear budding in his gut and instead focus the soaked path ahead, but even his own mind betrays him.

Jinyoung knows Jaebeom. He’s known him for almost a millennium. He knows that if he makes one wrong move, Jaebeom won’t hesitate to retaliate against him—retaliate by using you. Jinyoung shakes his head with a sigh, savoring the chill of the rain against his body. If it comes down to it, he won’t hesitate to to protect you from his brother in any way he has to…

He should have kept his word, and stayed away.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You sure you don’t need anything else? Water? Another blanket? Some ramen?” You roll your eyes at your roommate’s barrage of questions, unable to help the soft smile that lifts to your lips. As smothering and irritating as Jihyo’s overprotectiveness can be, it’s nice to have someone looking out for your well being—even though she can be a helicopter mom sometimes.

“It’s not like I’m paralyzed, Ji.” You reach forward to take her hand into your own, “I’m okay.”

Jihyo squeezes your fingers, “I just… worry about you, you know? You’ve been through a lot.” Though she doesn’t specify, you know for a fact that she isn’t talking about the hospital visit. Your heart aches for as long you allow it to, before pushing the unwanted feelings away. You playfully nudge her shoulder with a chuckle.

“You worry about everything. Now seriously, clear out.” Jihyo follows your lead to your bedroom door, staying still to allow you to check up on her hair and makeup. When you deem her appearance to be nothing less than perfect, you nod, “Sana won’t let either of us hear the end of it if at least one of us doesn’t go clubbing with her, Momo and Mina.”

“What will you do, tonight?”

“I have some stuff to finish for the university. Or I’ll just binge-watch some Sex and the City.” Jihyo accepts your answer, lifting her arms to bring your body into a short, tight hug. When she pulls away, you send her a wink, “Try not to get too trashed, alright? I really don’t want to be picking your drunk ass up at three in the morning.”

“No promises,” She hums. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Go have fun, gorgeous.” You give Jihyo a thumbs up as she steps from your bedroom. No sooner does Sana pounce on your roommate, and in a matter of seconds, drags her toward the exit with Mina and Momo not far behind. You wait through the girlish giggles and chatter until the slam of the front door carries from the front hallway—you’re finally alone.

You quickly shut your door, making sure to turn the lock, and hop over to the tiny desk you somehow squeezed in the corner. When you moved in with Sana and Jihyo, they had to convert a storage closet into a bedroom since the apartment only came with one small master, now Sana’s space, and an even smaller office, where Jihyo resides. So your room is basically a shoebox with a single window and enough room for a bed, clothing chest, and a desk and bookshelf set. Even so, you’ve managed to spruce the place up with frilly rugs, decorative succulents and some cheap fairy lights,

After yanking the curtains above your bed closed and double-checking the door, you retract the journal Bambam had given you from where you hid it earlier underneath your pillow. The leather is shockingly cool against your palm, almost searing into your flesh. Whether it’s the nerves or the excitement that’s making your pulse beat like a racehorse, you’re not so sure. But to be honest, it doesn’t matter to you… not as much as the truth that awaits. You settle back into your desk chair and open to the first page.

There’s a name scrawled on the inside of the cover in a handwritten font you’ve only seen in historical documents and creative poetry projects. You recognize Bambam’s last name, Bhuwakul. The next page holds a diary entry in the same handwriting, dating back to 1770. Not desiring to wait any longer, you begin to read the entry:

Day 1 — I have been traveling day and night for many months. My long journey has been filled with hardship, starvation and exhaustion. But my efforts have finally paid off. On a night when the moon was full and bright, I stumbled across a small village only miles from the edge of the sea. The townspeople welcomed me and my brother into their borders. Fed us. Clothed us. And even offered us a home to where we could reside as long as we wished. I believe we will stay here in Moon Dye Bay. For good.

You flip through the rest of the pages, delving into the story of Bambam’s great-, great-, great-grandmother and her new life on the bay—how she bettered the town and its inhabitants, soon earning her title as the first ever mayor. You find yourself immersed in the personal account of her life, relating to her worries, wants, and wishes. Somewhere in the story, you completely forgot about Bambam’s warning… until you reach an entry that makes your skin crawl:

Day 196 — There’s a murderer in town. We’ve lost eleven of our people. Three men. Seven women. And one child. I believe this person, no—this monster enjoys it. This monster enjoys draining the blood from their victims like rum, and tearing open their throats like a child opens a gift. This monster enjoys hearing them scream for mercy—watching the fear in their eyes blossom like flowers. But mostly, I believe this monster enjoys the hunt. I spoke to the Wang faction the other night, and some of the ladies said they felt as if they are being watched at night, when they are alone—as if the monster is lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right chance to kill.

The passage reminds you heavily of what happened last night. Your attacker had done everything in which Bhuwakul described, even the part about tearing your throat open. You don’t bother to acknowledge the spinning of your head and instead, mindlessly flip through the journal. Your lack of attention no longer allows you to fully read the entries, only skim—until you reach another that catches your eye:

Day 209 — It’s unlike anything I could ever imagine… This pain—this grief… My brother is dead and it’s because of those murderers… Because of those demons… We’ve all been blinded by their charms… but no more… I will expose them to the villagers for what they truly are… so no one else can be victimized by their deceit…

You almost faint as you read the next sentence that follows:

—Park Jinyoung and Im Jaebeom are vampires. And they’re coming to kill me next.

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happikattwuzheere · 4 years

Photo

ok i was gonna try and actually draw out noah’s first time meeting gansey in this au but then i realized idk how to do that without like actually scripting/drawing out basically a whole actual comic complete w/ background and everything and like, i might do that someday but not today so we’re just gonna do this in text BUT

more deer boy au, this time feat: Its My AU And I Want Noah To Get To Be Happy And Safe So He’s A Fey This Time

SO. out somewhere in a forest in eastern europe/western russia possibly, the nearby people know that the forest is ruled by a powerful entity that they call Czerny. he’s a leshy--the old man of the woods, a king within their own lands, mischevious and capricious with travelers, but Czerny in particular is known to despise humans. Most leshy just mess with them, trapping them in their forests to wander in pranks that are harmful but in a very fey-dont-know-how-fragile-people-are way and which can be subverted by turning your clothes inside out which is frankly very fun but ANYWAY. Czerny will do that too but he’s also just in general far more likely to be unkind to humans who pass through. people aren’t sure why, it’s suspected some personal grudges may be in play; he’s a very old entity with a long memory.

there’s one sort of exception to this, though--leshy are known to guide children cursed by their parents to a group of people called the forest people, but czerny in particular is known to take a very direct interest in the lives of the castaways; he’s more or less outright adopted some before and at the very least checks in. any kids who choose to leave and rejoin civilization are warned that, while the forest will always be kind to them, they will never see him again if they do so.

anyway so the point of all this is to say that barrington “certified asshole” whelk manages to get his hands on czerny’s true name, which is unfortunately still written down somewhere despite his best efforts to wipe all those out, this is why he hates humans, but the point is, whelk manages to trap and imprison czerny and drag him back to england with him, use his power for some nefarious purposes for a while, czerny is DEEPLY unhappy.

meanwhile ronan and gansey are just setting out on the road to head toward the village most of the story takes place at, and they run into All This Nonsense, and gansey catches on to Whelk having forcibly bent some powerful magic entity to his will and, being gansey, is like, well that’s not nice at all let me just set you free

and the moment he does all the candles in the room snuff out and the air gets very heavy and ronans like “gansey that may have been very stupid”

czerny won’t even physically manifest at first. he is VERY grumpy and absolutely planning on screwing the person who freed him over. he doesnt like owing ANYONE a life debt, but that’s what this is now, and he’s had a VERY bad time being forced to work for whelk, let’s get this over with

so his booming terrible voice echoes through the room all “state your request, what favor would you ask?”

and ganseys like oh gee i wouldnt dream of asking anything of you, i just felt bad with you trapped in there

and czerny pauses. and goes. “you. you know im a fey right” gansey: the possibility had occurred, yes? oh wait shoot thats a thing with fey, isnt it, uh. cant we. cant we call this one a gift?

czerny:

czerny: ok i will give you some credit here i haven’t laughed that hard in ages

gansey: i didn’t....hear anything??

the conversation basically continues like that and czerny slowly realizes that this guy really is seriously trying to get out of being owed a life debt, which has czerny utterly flabbergasted and very quickly revising his opinion on the guy. at the very least he’s fascinated and curious enough that hes like. well now i have to see what happens. so he ends up agreeing to travel with them, since, no, the life debt is non negotiable--he does, however, leave out the bit where he doesn’t actually have to stick around, he could very easily just go home and gansey could come and call on him whenever he DOES think of a favor for czerny to pay him back in kind--gives them the name “noah” when they ask what to call him, because, hey, that guy with the boat and the animals was pretty cool, it works, and disguises himself as a boy about ronan and gansey’s age

but there’s a bit of a joke in his disguise; a dual-layer glamor, basically--the primary glamor is making him look like, you know, human sized, instead of a giant man with moss for a beard and huge horns like gnarled branches and so on and so on, but he gives himself pointed ears as a private joke and places an additional, very minor glamor over those so that it’s not that people don’t see them so much as people don’t notice. basically whitelists gansey though so that minor glamor doesn’t work on him.

he does not, however, whitelist ronan.

ronan notices the pointed ears anyway, because he’s a cambion, not that gansey knows that yet, and nor does noah.

ronan does point them out and say “hey those might be a problem” and noah, now immediately VERY suspicious, goes, “oh sure i’ll put a glamor on them” but doesn’t actually change anything about his setup, and, upon figuring out that ronan hasn’t told gansey what he is/that gansey seems to be under the impression that ronan’s human, decides, “well ok now it’s a game”

so noah’s playing a game of “we’ll see who gives the game away on what we REALLY are first” with ronan that ronan doesn’t know about at all

ronan, as a result of this exchange, assumes noah must be a really weak fey to have made that kind of rookie mistake. like, a brownie or something. noah’s happy to leave it that way indefinitely but noah’s p terrifyingly powerful and kept in check only by the force of fairy law and also his desire to continue using the life debt as an excuse to hang out in england as long as he wants and watch this very interesting human and the also extremely interesting people he seems to be able to keep finding while slowly revising his very old very set in opinions on humanity as a whole

bonus pic for reading all that which was gonna be part of me drawing out the scene before i realized that wasnt gonna work:

#trc #the raven cycle #noah czerny #deer boy au #lolsketch #longpost #noah out here living his best life: the au #he rly is just having a blast out here #also he locks whelk away to forever endlessly wander the space between spaces as punishment for the bs he was put through #he did not enjoy getting kidnapped!#very undignified and also a hassle.#>:(

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peterthepark · 5 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: smut, obviously nsfw, fluff

i think this gif may have killed me !

A - Aftercare

steve is really big on aftercare, especially if he was being a little rough with you

he’s a sweet guy, so he’s gently wiping at your skin with a hot towel, or brushing your hair as you lay against him, or giving you kisses in the places where it hurts

he’ll even cook food for you afterwards, even if it’s like four in the morning

steve makes sure that you’re okay. he’ll ask if he hurt you or if it was too much

with steve, he likes having you close to him. you do as much as possible to show him that you aren’t hurt and that you enjoyed

the only aftercare he needs is your presence if that makes sense

B - Body Part

steve loves everything about you, but if he had to choose, his favorite body part of yours would be your shoulders.

he loves leaving hickies and he loves kissing you there (but not as much as your lips)

when you’re on top, steve will sit up so he can bite down onto one of your shoulders because fuck you give it to him so well

your favorite body part of steve are his hands

they’re so soft and warm and big

you love holding onto them, especially during sex because it comforts you

you play with his hands a lot

but also his hands are really good for other things

C - Cum

when you and steve had just started having sex with one another, he would use a condom

but as time progressed, he slowly became more adventurous and needy

he’d cum on your back, or your stomach, sometimes even in your mouth if you’d let him

although

you decided to take the pill

steve had gone wild

like the good wild

he isn’t sure about it at first cause what if you get pregnant

but he starts to cum inside you

he’ll give one deep thrust before he cums and you FEEL him because he’s so deep and big and it’s kind of overwhelming but

steve’s new favorite place to cum is inside of you

D - Dirty Secret

you and steve have this polaroid camera

i think you can see where this is going

so when you surprise him with shit like lingerie

or after intimate moments such as sex

steve will snap a picture because he’s so entranced by your beauty and he wants to capture these moments

he has a collection of all the polaroids in a shoe box that is under his bed

there’s some polaroids of him in there too

his favorite one of you is where you’re sitting on your calves, and you’re looking over your shoulder at him

and there’s a few hickies on your lower back

steve loves that one

your favorite one of his is from when you were on top, and you both had literally just finished

but steve had this glow and you knew you had to take a picture

“steve, i just need you to be serious! one time!”

so steve has his arm behind his head, his hair is somehow suddenly perfect, and he’s looking at the camera with such a lustful gaze

it’s the only good picture of him so you took it for yourself

but he doesn’t know that you also took the silly ones where steve has a bra on his face, or he’s trying to wear said bra, or he has your panties over his head, and that time where you guys literally broke the bed and steve just laid there

“please? one more round?”

“the bed is fucking broken, baby. but can i least take a picture?”

E - Experience

before dating one another, both you and steve have had sex before

like once (him with nancy and you with some guy from senior year)

so you guys are fairly new at all this

but your first time with him is still perfect

steve knows what he’s doing because as he says ‘it’s not rocket science’

cocky bastard

steve can last long during sex but he can’t last long when you give him a blowjob

because no one has done that before with him

and he fucking loves it

F - Favorite Position

steve loves missionary

he likes being able to see your face and your reactions

he can also go really deep which he knows you like but he’ll stop when it gets too much

steve also loves seeing you ride him

your breasts are in his face, he can bite down onto your shoulder, and he can kiss you

your favorite position is also missionary

but doggystyle hits differently

like it actually hits differently

one time you cried

steve stopped right away

“did i hurt you? oh, jesus-“

“no, no. it just felt so good.”

it was that amazing

G - Goofy

you both are super goofy during sex

it’s sickening

like a quarter of those polaroids are goofy shit so

steve can’t stop cracking jokes

you’ll both laugh if one of you says something a little too crazy or funny during dirty talk

dirty talk is difficult sometimes because you guys can’t stop laughing at yourselves

“you like that, Y/N? yeah? like it when i-“

then steve just laughs at himself

because what the fuck is he saying

you have to make him pause because you’re dying of laughter

half the time he can’t even continue because you’re STILL LAUGHING

“Y/N! i am literally so hard right now, please stop laughing. i have to get this over with, please! im in pain!”

H - Hair

steve doesn’t have a lot of hair down there

he trims to keep it short

he’s pretty good with hygiene which is great (get yourself someone with good hygiene please)

as for you, steve doesn’t really care what you do down there

body hair is natural

he doesn’t shame you for having any or none

as long as he can please you

I - Intimacy

steve is a professional romantic

he loves to make love to you

he never forgets to kiss you during sex

he never forgets to tell you that he loves you

you guys have a very intimate dynamic and it helps your relationship a lot

J - Jack Off

BECAUSE of the polaroids that steve has of you

he’s able to jack off in his spare time pretty easily

of course, he asked you for permission if he could use the pictures for that purpose

cause he didn’t want to creep you out or disrespect you in case you weren’t okay with it

he’s a moaning mess when he’s home alone

his hands are under the covers, he’s sitting up against his headboard as he stares down at the picture of you

you caught him one time

you stepped into his bedroom without knocking and there he was

sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you

and you can see his hand moving really quickly so you immediately know what’s happening

“baby?”

and he cums right there

“Y/N! did you - uh- mmm - hello?”

he’s so flustered and embarrassed

but you found it so hot

K - Kink

i think we all know that steve has a hair-pulling kink

and a daddy kink but he hasn’t really explored it fully

you like to tease him about it because you were there when he called himself daddy in front of a car (season 3 spoilers?)

“what does daddy want for dinner?”

“does this dress look nice, daddy?”

apparently the dress was so nice that steve ripped it as he fucked you

so yes he does have a daddy kink

and you love it

steve also has a thing for lingerie (is that a kink idk)

he’s fairly young so he doesn’t have too many wild kinks

L - Location

steve isn’t afraid to fuck you in his car

or in yours

when you’re waiting for him to close up scoops ahoy for the night

you’ll tease the shit out of him

so steve takes you to the backroom and gives it to you really good

even though it’s against company policy to do that kind of shit

but screw company policy

M - Motivation

steve likes to hear you

he likes hearing your moans, his name, just any sort of vocal cue that you’re enjoying

it keeps him going

he’s turned on by a lot of things

when he’s at your house and you happen to not be wearing a bra

and he can see your nipples through his shirt that you’re wearing

you ride steve on the sofa in seconds

but also he gets turned on during random moments because hormones

he’s a dog

N - Nope

steve doesn’t like degrading you

you’re a beautiful woman who deserves to be treated well

he hates that shit

steve doesn’t want to hurt you or make you any less of a person

O - Oral

steve could eat you out for days

he is certainly a giver rather than a receiver

he enjoys seeing you writhe and moan

his mouth is talented

but also steve is a sucker haha get it for when you give him blowjobs

he doesn’t last long during those

P - Pace

steve was in sports so as expected, he has a great deal of stamina

he’s fast

so fast

but sometimes steve will go slow

when he’s teasing you or when you’ve had a bad day and you just need him there

he often prefers a slower pace because he can feel all of you

and it also conserves him some energy for round two

and round three

maybe a round four

Q - Quickie

steve doesn’t really like quickies

unless he’s really really horny then you’ll have one

it’s a rare thing between you two because steve likes to savor the moment

R - Risk

steve likes to play it safe

unless you want to try something

he likes sticking to your normal antics

and again, he’s pretty young so he enjoys what you have in your sex life right now

S - Stamina

as mentioned, steve has a lot of stamina!

he can go on for a couple rounds unless it’s a blowjob then he’s done for

steve can only last till the third round

but he will stop anytime you want

if you’re too tired or too sensitive, he’ll stop

even if he hasn’t came

T - Toys

steve doesn’t own any toys

he doesn’t really care for them

unless it’s YOUR toys

then he’ll use them on you

U - Unfair

steve is a giant tease

it’s irritating

on occasions, he’ll edge you

till you’re begging him

“what’s the word?”

“please, steve.”

V - Volume

you both are pretty loud

steve isn’t afraid to moan

you both enjoy being vocal as possible

unless someone’s parents are home

then you have to stay really quiet

which is so hard

you guys laugh louder than you moan to be honest

there’s a lot of laughing

W - Wildcard

steve always asks for consent

even if it’s clear that you really want him

he does it anyways because that’s the PROPER WAY TO DO IT

consent

important

https://www.thehotline.org/2013/04/16/what-is-healthy-consent-what-isnt-consent/

X - X-ray

steve has an average sized dick

let’s be honest here

but it’s still pretty biggg ;)

he’s more on the thicker side

that’s it

steve has a nice dick

Y - Yearning

steve has a fairly high sex drive

c’mon

he’s a boy dealing with hormones

so he’s horny for a good amount of time

but he controls himself

he may be a dog but he is not a RABID dog

Z - Zzz

you pee before you go to sleep with steve

UTIs are real ladies

but anyways

steve is a sleepyhead

so he’ll fall asleep pretty easily

he usually waits for you to get back to him before he closes his eyes

but sometimes he’s really exhausted and can’t help it

it’s okay with you

he’s a good boyfriend

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #x reader

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taexual · 5 years

Text

HOLIC - 37 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst (and a lot of technicalities, so bear with me)

words: 5.2k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Jaebum still had his arms wrapped tightly around you when your alarm went off the next morning. His grip felt a little like what sleeping in the very center of hell must have felt like and yet, you’d have rather burned alive than complained. For the first few minutes after waking up, your anxiety didn’t even realize that it was supposed to work overtime today to prepare you for your interview, because waking up with Jaebum right next to you felt so calming.

It was very difficult to remember your responsibilities but, after spending another few moments content in his arms, – moments you knew you’d regret as soon as you left the motel and had to run to the gallery – you finally managed to pull out of his grip and sit up. Your skin shivered immediately – the motel room, when Jaebum wasn’t holding you, was surprisingly cold – and you went to find a sweater you’ve taken just in case before you headed for the shower.

As you rearranged your overnight bag in search of your make-up bag, Jaebum’s phone on the nightstand right next to you began to buzz. You couldn’t understand how the sound didn’t wake him up. He actually didn’t seem to hear it at all because when you stood up another moment later, Jaebum’s eyes were still closed and his breathing was just as slow, even though his phone continued to go off.

Thinking that something happened, you leaned closer to check if this was an emergency and if you should have woken him up for this, but retreated as soon as you saw Jackson’s name on the screen, along with a very aggressive, “CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU SEE THIS!!!!!” as one of the text messages, followed by a dozen identical ones.

You couldn’t tell what Jackson’s reasons for trying to reach Jaebum this early were, but you didn’t investigate further. This would have been an invasion of Jaebum’s privacy that you hoped you’d never have to resort to. Clearly, since Jackson didn’t bother calling and settled on endless texts instead, this wasn’t that big of a deal, and, therefore, it could wait until Jaebum saw the texts himself.

Glancing at his sleeping features one more time, you smiled to yourself out of reflex, and then headed for the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.

It took you longer to gather the courage to leave the motel room – Jaebum was still asleep and, therefore, was unable to push you out of the door – than it took for you to find the gallery on foot. You didn’t want to bother with a taxi so you’d left early, expecting to get lost at least a few times on your way there – granted, you’ve miscalculated just how relatively small this city was – but you had Google Maps open on your phone for all of the fifteen minutes that it took you to reach the gallery. Needless to say, you stood outside of their door twenty minutes before your interview was supposed to start.

The gallery was not in a very large building even though it stood in-between two 20-floor giants – most likely the tallest buildings in this whole city – and looked decidedly out of place. When you opened the doors, however, you realized that this was only the first impression because, once you were inside, you saw that just the entrance desk and the waiting area alone took up as much space as half of the first floor of your gallery back home. The size of this place fit right in with the vibes of the city center.

As you waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call and let you know what to do, you looked around. It was certainly a photography-oriented place, contrary to the gallery you worked in - they only specialized in photography exhibitions once in a blue moon. Here, however, even without any exhibitions currently taking place, the walls were decorated by still-life moments captured by photographers whose names you've read up on before you came. You felt comfortable here – and, paradoxically, insecure, too – but that was soon to change.

“Miss?” the receptionist called on you another few minutes later. You raised your head and met her kind smile. “Please, come this way. They are ready for you. The whole team rarely ever gathers for interviews such as these, but we have everyone waiting for you today.”

You were suddenly very hot. “The whole team?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, leading you past the doors labeled “STAFF ONLY” and walking down the hall. The walls here were decorated with works of photography, too. “Usually, it's only our agents that attend the interviews. Or, well, in the case of up-and-coming photographers such as yourself, it's just one scouting agent. But the owner is here, too. And so are all three of our agents.”

“Oh,” you swallowed, not having prepared to impress such a huge group of important people. “I'm starting to feel the pressure.”

“Oh, don't!” she whipped her head to look at you and stopped outside of a sleek black double door at the end of the hall. “You should be honored. It is obvious that the gallery is interested in you, especially.”

You couldn't understand why that was – you hadn’t studied on campus here and you certainly hadn't made a name for yourself with your photography yet – but then the receptionist opened the door for you and you had to do a double-take at the sight of the room in front of you. You'd been warned to expect at least four people inside, but there was only one. And yet, the sight of him explained the special interested in you and, at the same time, it made it clear that you were absolutely not going to get an exhibition here.

“It's nice to see you again,” Jiho spoke, standing up from his seat on the far right of the meeting room where he'd been reading something on his tablet. “I hope you don't mind, I've asked the rest of my team to join us later so you would hopefully feel less intimidated.”

“You, uh... Y-you knew I was coming?” you asked, so deeply uncomfortable and distracted, you couldn't find one spot to rest your eyes on.

The sound of the door closing as the receptionist left you and him alone sent nervous shivers down your spine.

“Yes, well, your application had your name on it,” Jiho explained, this way revealing to you that the reason why he had called you in the car on your way over here could have been this. “Although, your last name did have a typo, so I wasn't sure if it was really you but all of my doubts were cleared when I saw your portfolio. Normally, it's just me holding interviews with our candidates – or, sometimes, it’s me and Luke, one of the senior agents here – but I gathered the whole team here today.”

You dared to look at him. “Why?”

“Because I know how much potential you have,” he replied. “And I think this exhibition – if you don't mind hosting it here – shouldn't be a one-night event. I think we can make it last the whole weekend at the very least. And that’s just for starters.”

“I'm not sure I’m following your train of thought.”

“Sit, please,” he offered, pointing at the chair next to him.

You strongly debated leaving but, after having come all the way here, it wouldn’t have made sense to just drop everything and run. You had to, at least, endure this interview. So, you sat down next to him and desperately tried to stop your hands from shaking so much. When Jiho had mentioned – all of these days ago – that he came from a town six hours from here, you should have really kept in mind to avoid all places within the ratio of his potential hometown.

“Usually, when working with amateur photographers, we offer them a chance to hold their exhibition here for one night,” Jiho explained then. “We might buy some of their works for the gallery, and, of course, other people who are interested are able to contact the photographers through us later, too. But it's just this one night we’re offering. They present their work, interact with the guests, maybe earn a profit if these guests express an interest in buying something. And then, if they're thinking about another exhibition, they have to go through the same process again; they have to send us the updated resumes, go through the interviews and so on.”

“I see,” you nodded slowly. He seemed to have been describing an extremely short-term contract. “You don't guarantee them a future. It's just one night.”

“Right,” he said. “But that's not what I—we—want for you. I'm thinking it's possible for you to hold a successful weekend exhibition here. Three days, at the very least: Friday through Sunday.”

Knowing your lack of experience in exhibitions, Jiho was truly offering you a treasure chest. You couldn't understand why. In all of the times that you've known him, he had expressed his admiration for your work only once or twice, choosing instead to give you advice about what you could have done better. You’d learned that he was never one to freely share compliments, so this confused you.

“Why?” you asked again. “Why am I receiving this different treatment?”

“We must have two different sets of eyes if you have to ask me that,” he smiled. You didn't. “You're good. Very good. You have a lot of potential for growth. That's exactly what we're looking for here. At this current time, the gallery only sponsors two young photographers. That's where I started out, too, and, well, in three weeks, I'm having my second exhibition in the capital city.”

“Congratulations,” you said in a dry tone but he didn’t seem to pay attention to it and nodded politely.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hope you see that getting recognized by one gallery is already enough to jump-start your career. I stayed here because these people have helped me become who I am today, but getting their sponsorship does not necessarily mean you have to continue to work here. It's an open agreement.”

You were hesitant – and so desperate to find a way to turn back the time before you’d allowed yourself to believe that turning your dreams into reality was actually possible for you – but you still asked, “what does that imply, exactly?”

“It means that we're flexible. We'll never give you specific orders or find gigs for you. But we will sponsor you and whatever photoshoots you're interested in doing, and, most importantly, we’ll provide you with the opportunity to exhibit your work here again. If you should accept this opportunity,” Jiho explained and you closed your eyes momentarily, exhaling your frustration. You’d have been over the moon to get an offer like this at any other gallery. “As long as there’s mutual interest, we supply the money, you deliver the art.”

“Without any interviews?”

He nodded. “Without any interviews.”

“Sounds like this is based an awful lot on trust, though,” you pointed out.

“It is,” Jiho didn’t deny it. “We need to be able to trust the artists we're working with. I'd have never offered you this if I didn't trust you.”

Perhaps accidentally, he focused all of his attention on the offers of the gallery, avoiding the question you’d asked him twice already. You dreaded to know why he was really excluding you from the bunch of other applicants for an exhibition here and yet you couldn’t resist not finding out the real reason because this was simply too good to be true. There had to be a hidden intention here.

“So, you're offering me a three-day exhibition and a sponsorship,” you concluded, “even though I’m barely an amateur. Why?”

“Because you have potential,” he repeated himself.

“I can't help but feel like there's a catch,” you admitted, unable to conceal the suspicion in your voice.

Jiho smiled at this, not offended in the slightest.

“Perceptive as always,” he said and you cringed. Clearly, perception was not your strong suit or you would have figured out why a gallery so far away from your own city was offering you an exhibition. Moreover, you’d have seen through Jiho’s intentions from the moment you had first laid your eyes on him, and this meeting would have been far less awkward. “The only catch is that the gallery needs a stronger guarantee that you will succeed.”

“How can I guarantee that?”

“By making a name for yourself before your first exhibition,” he said simply. “It's smooth sailing from then on. You just need more people to know who you are and your exhibition will automatically succeed.”

“Critically acclaimed exhibitions aren't always hosted by famous photographers,” you said. “Sometimes, they’re hosted by unknown artists.”

“Of course. But “sometimes” is not a word we use when we agree to work with young photographers because we need guarantees. As I’ve said, the agreements we reach with our artists are based on mutual trust. We don't measure success in, uh, critical terms here,” Jiho spoke. “We focus on advertising. The gallery is making a name for itself through its' exhibitions. If our photographers are being talked about, the gallery is being talked about. That’s success to us. Consequently, the more popular the gallery is, the more success it can bring to its’ artists and vice versa. It's a win-win situation.”

That explained Jiho's need to have popular – beautiful – faces at his exhibitions. He wasn’t interested in getting recognized by the critics – at least, not as much as he was interested in gathering more attention – he just needed to become a household name.

“Alright,” you said, swallowing thickly. “And how do you suppose I can make a name for myself before I have an exhibition?”

“I'm here to help you with that.”

You could feel his answer in your chest but you still asked, “how?”

“I've started working on my own career by allowing Luke, the agent I'd mentioned before, to mentor me. He took me everywhere with him leading up to my debut as a photographer,” Jiho told you. He’d somehow – probably on purpose – skipped out on this part when he was telling you about his photography origins the first time you’d met. “He introduced me to so many people, we couldn't fit them all in here when the day of my exhibition arrived. I was an instant success because Luke believed in me. He became my first social connection, and the strongest one I had at the time, too.”

You weren’t looking at him because you knew he’d be waiting for your eyes to start glittering. He’d expect you to perk up at this and perhaps even agree to everything immediately. But this didn’t sound right. None of it did. It sounded too easy. Too fake. Those “success overnight” stories didn’t actually happen overnight and you wanted to believe that they happened because of someone’s hard-work and not because of various PR stunts.

“I can do that for you,” Jiho added gently after you didn’t reply.

“Why me, specifically?” you asked for the upteenth time, more confused by each of his explanations. “It can’t just be potential. There are lots of promising photographers out there.”

“There are. But they all lack something,” Jiho explained. “I’m offering this because I believe in you. I've already told you that this always works both ways - it would never be just me bringing you recognition. Both of us would be noticed. The press adores finding tendencies. Us two getting spotted at several events in a row? We'd be the talk of the photography world before we even realized it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you were already shaking your head before you could even open your mouth. “I don’t think that’s a—”

“Listen, if there are any personal affairs you’re worried about, I can explain the situation,” he cut in. “I mean, if you’re worried your boyfriend wouldn’t approve—”

“N-no,” you stopped him. You had a feeling Jaebum would have ended Jiho’s life on the spot if he saw him. God knows what he’d do if Jiho actually tried to explain this plan to him. “No. There’s no one to explain anything to.”

“Well, then I’m afraid I don’t really understand your hesitation,” Jiho said, chuckling awkwardly, “I know you’re smart enough to realize how crucial this is for the rest of your career. You know offers like these don’t fall out of the sky with every rainfall,” he paused, giving you time to consider the weight of his words. They were heavy, sure, but instead of pressing you down, they just made you want to run away to escape them faster. “But, of course, I’d never force you to do something you aren’t comfortable doing. The rest of my team will tell you the same thing when we meet up with them for a tour of the gallery later.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he continued, not letting you get a word in. “I think I’ve already told you that I took the job here because I want to help young, starting photographers.”

“Have you personally offered this to any other applicants?” you asked.

“No. None of them showed as much potential.”

You feared that potential had very little part in this. “Do… uh, do looks matter when it comes to this?”

“You’re a photographer,” he smiled. “You tell me.”

“Right,” you exhaled slowly before admitting, “I don’t want the reason why I’m hosting an exhibition to be my relationship with one of the agents of the gallery – because that’s what the media will think. That’s—I’m not sure that would be good for my reputation.”

“That would never be the reason,” Jiho disagreed but he wasn’t very convincing. “But even if it was, your reputation wouldn’t be damaged. Whatever the media assumes, we don’t interfere. You can’t destroy your reputation if you don’t even say anything, right? And that’s exactly how it goes – the more we’re seen together and the more we stay quiet about the nature of our relationship, the eager everyone will be to figure out what’s going on here. The press is the best at making a big deal out of nothing and it’s all just a game of publicity. By the time the exhibition happens, you won’t just be a promising amateur who takes pictures occassionally. You’ll be a promising photographer. People will know who you are and they will want to see what you’ve got.”

“That kind of media attention, though… it brings rumors,” you insisted, still having a hard time grasping his reasons for being so set on this as the right way to bring you success. “Being seen together causes speculation. Maybe people will even realize that what we’re doing is just for publicity. It will paint us both in a negative light to the point where it won’t even matter why we were actually together. It won’t matter that we never confirmed or denied anything. How is that going to help any of our careers?”

Jiho – chuckling lightly at your innocence because he liked to think that he was an old dog in this business – leaned in closer before he spoke, “let me teach you something vital about this: as long as people are talking, you’re doing great. You have a big heart and you care a lot about your appearance in the eyes of others but, the truth is, any kind of publicity is good publicity. It’s what brings you the recognition you seek. You don’t have to hope and pray to become one of the few popular photographers who became popular just because they’re that good. There are barely any people who could say that so it’s just unrealistic, really. But nor hope, nor prayer has anything to do with what we’re offering you. Our offer guarantees you become popular.”

You expected nothing less from him. Media attention was his main priority. Reputation was on a different level that was, clearly, nowhere near as important as popularity.

You’ve heard of the scandals the famous Hollywood photographers sometimes got involved in – it was all a part of “show business” – and you never wanted to become like them. However, at the end of the day, you really did not know what the inside of this world looked like. Perhaps Jiho was right to look at you with pity – your fear and your innocence when it came to similar manipulations might have been the very reason why it had taken you so long to send your portfolio to any gallery and this same innocence also threatened to become the reason why your career never advanced.

Your moral compass kept vibrating and telling you that this was not something you should have gotten involved in, but you knew that most of your values – and your ability to tell right from wrong – stemmed from fear and general conformity. You were starting to see that you lacked boldness and perhaps you lacked determination, too. Jiho was right, there were so few people who were magically rewarded with opportunities to become world-renowned artists on their own terms. Barely anyone was good enough -- and interesting enough -- to achieve immediate critical success with no outside help whatsoever. The rest of the world had to work hard to achieve popularity and success. They had to break out of their own shells. Step out of their comfort zones.

You didn’t think you had it in you to break the chains that were the norm for you. You didn’t think you’d manage to forcefully start your career Jiho’s way, but you didn’t want to fade into oblivion by waiting around for an opportunity to do this your way, either.

“I need some time to think,” you decided, your throat as dry as sandpaper.

“By all means,” Jiho leaned back in his seat. “Let me check with the rest of the team, then, alright? And then we’ll show you around and introduce you to this place. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You didn’t feel up for a tour anymore. “Uh, I—”

“You can get back to us with your answer as soon as you reach a decision,” Jiho said, already standing up from his seat and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “The sooner the better, though. You know how this works.”

He smiled at you in this specific way that let you know that, although he was generous enough to offer you an opportunity to host an exhibition – even if it might have irreversibly stained your reputation – he wasn’t going to sit around waiting for your answer for too long. Perhaps the only reason why he was offering you some time to think at all, was because you and him already knew each other. Perhaps, when it came to others – not that there were any, according to him – he demanded an answer right away.

His smile told you that he thought he was doing you a huge favor. He thought he was offering to create a career for you. He thought he’d crafted the perfect conditions for you to succeed – the kind of conditions that no other gallery—no other agent—was ever going to offer you unless you magically became more well-known some other way.

And, with anxiety pooling in your stomach, you feared that Jiho was right. This was a favor that no one else was going to offer you. But it felt an awful lot like a crossroad contract – you may not have been selling your soul just yet, but you still worried you were about to make a deal with the devil.

When you left the gallery an hour later, your mood was even worse. The place was fantastic. And with each story the owner of the gallery told you – God, he was such a pleasant man; if it’d been him talking to you in that room, you’d have said yes right away – you kept falling in love with it more and more.

Three of your professors from college have actually hosted exhibitions here in the past, and one of them was even sponsored by the gallery for a few years before he took up the teaching position. It was like you were meant to come here. Like you were meant to start your career here.

And yet, you’d left without giving them an answer because responding in the affirmative would have meant stomping on all of your beliefs and agreeing to play their game with no rules. At the same time, dismissing the offer would have meant throwing your entire future away. Neither answer seemed appropriate and you’d never thought offers that could not be refused actually existed outside of Mafia books but now you knew they were real.

You’d hoped to clear your mind and settle on a decision that made more sense as you walked home from the gallery – it wasn’t hard: either you lost yourself or you lost your future –but you found yourself standing outside of the door of your motel room with your mind still buzzing with loud repetitive thoughts, lists of pros and cons, and dread, dread, dread.

But then you finally managed to open the door and, within moments, Jaebum was leaping from his bed and pushing you against the nearest wall.

“Thank God you’re back!” he exclaimed, his hands on either side of you, his face close. The excitement in his eyes was like nothing you’ve seen before and you couldn’t find it in you to worry if you’d closed the door after you entered.

“I—alright there, golden retriever,” you pressed your hands to his chest – noticing his rapid heartbeat and concluding that if he’d had a tail, he’d have been wagging it all over the place right now – and gave him a look. “Did something—”

“Yes!” he said. “Jackson called.”

“Okay,” you said, already having guessed that he might call, given the number of text messages you’d seen him send to Jaebum this morning. “What did he—”

“He said a representative of some entertainment agency had reached out to him. I don’t even know the label but Jackson does,” Jaebum continued, reading through your questions before you could finish asking them. Seeing him this energized with glee was, actually, slightly alarming. You could not deduce anything that he was going to say or do next. “Apparently, this representative would like to meet me face-to-face. They’re thinking of signing me.”

“They—” your eyes went wide. “Oh my God!”

“My point exactly!” he agreed, removing his hands from the wall on either side of you to clap them together. “I don’t—I didn’t even—shit, he said they contacted him last night but my phone was dying, so I didn’t get his call. But—fuck me, they want to meet me.”

“Shit,” you were laughing suddenly, your own anxiety long forgotten as your chest swelled with joy. “Jaebum, this is amazing. This is a huge step—no, a leap—towards becoming a real, actual singer. A-as a profession, not just a hobby.”

“I know,” his hands were on his cheeks as he turned around, walking a circle around the room due to his inability to stay still. “God, I know. I seriously can’t believe this.”

“You deserve this,” you reminded him, deciding to intervene and remove his hands from his face, taking them into yours instead, before he walked into a wall in this blind euphoria. “Did you agree on a date? When are you meeting these people?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jaebum replied. You may have stopped him from pacing around the room but his heart was very much still having a fieldtrip inside of his chest – it would have screamed, too, if only it could. “Jackson’s handling it. They just wanted to know if I’d be interested a-and now they know that I am—”

“How could you not be interested?” you cut him off and then realized, “unless you get a different offer.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. This already doesn’t seem real. Another offer would mean I’ve entered a parallel universe where I’m actually, you know, lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with this,” you said, letting go of his hands and stepping closer to hug him instead. “It was pure talent. I’m so proud of you.”

“Shit,” he exhaled into your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and staying still for a good minute before finally remembering, “fuck—h-how was your meeting? Did it go well?”

He’d pulled away to ask this – you wished he hadn’t because then he wouldn’t have seen your face as you lied to him. Telling him the truth was simply not an option after you’ve seen this side of him – this hopeful, overjoyed side of him that you were sure you’d only be lucky enough to witness once in your life.

“It was fine,” you said, choosing your words carefully but trying your best to sound realistic. You nodded for more effect, too, wanting to change the topic but deciding not to because Jaebum’s expectant eyes weren’t going to let you get away with it. “They’re, uh—they’re considering me. Some tough competition, probably. But the gallery’s wonderful, they gave me a tour.”

He nodded along to every word you said and you thanked his good mood for temporarily clouding his mind or else he would have seen through your fabricated smile immediately. You didn’t want him to know the truth – to know the lengths you’d have to go in order to make your dream come true – because his road to his goals wasn’t as complicated as yours was. He’d waited long enough to start his singing career but once he dared to take a step forwards, he found himself steady on his feet. His bravery was paying off.

You, on the other hand? Maybe you should have waited longer because the steps you’ve taken so far were minimal and so very shaky, it was a miracle you hadn’t fallen off the ledge yet.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from them again soon,” Jaebum told you, his voice genuine. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach, the labels “failure” clouding your mind. He believed in you a lot more than you believed in yourself in that moment. “You simply have to. They can’t let someone like you go away.”

“I—” you started to say but Jaebum – his arms still around you – pulled you closer to him, prolonging the hug. His embrace made you forget what you were going to say. “Yeah. I hope they do.”

The only proof of the complicated situation you were in was the sigh that passed your lips but disappeared before Jaebum could feel it on his neck. Good. You didn’t want him to know about your own predicament. You didn’t want to rain on his parade – you knew how long he’d wanted this and how much courage it had taken for him to fight for it.

“This is finally working out,” he whispered into your neck. Your skin shivered but you didn’t think it was because his lips brushed against your neck with each word he spoke. “I’m so glad we’re in this together.”

“Jaebum,” you said shakily. You didn’t know why – it must have been your heart, seeking the comfort of his words, which it couldn’t get if Jaebum didn’t know the truth – and you regretted it as soon as his name escaped your lips.

Noticing the edge in your voice, he pulled away to look at you. “What?”

“I’m—” you swallowed, concealing that tears that had welled up in your eyes with a careful smile. You couldn’t do this. Shaking your head, you told him the honest truth, “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

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fanficsrusz · 5 years

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Lure The Baba Yaga Part One - John Wick mini series

A/n: this was requested by anon. It's going to be two parts and its an angsty fic because who doesn't love to have their heart wrenched out 😂😂 anyway, i hope this is what you wanted when you requested it 😅

Summary: John and y/n were friends untill John went missing. After many years, y/n soon finds him but his job will put her in danger.

Masterlist

___________

John Wick was a man of mystery. He was there in a flash and gone in a sound.

Most people feared him, avoided his path at all costs, scared of what might happen if they came face to face with the Baba Yaga.

Many people knew him for his skill set, how deadly he was with his bare hands alone.

However, y/n knew him as the boy who always saved her a seat on the school bus, always shared his cookies with her in the canteen, always helped her with her homework.

Y/n had known John since she was about 13, having gone to school with him. They were best friends and did everything together.

As the pair grew up, it was inevitable that one was going to fall for the other and y/n had drawn the short straw in that challenge.

She had remembered the day she fell for him exactly, the way he sat on his bed studying, his hair messy and his soul pure, it was such a simple moment but he meant so much to her.

She felt her heart skip a beat and that's all she needed for her to fall for him.

She had tried to shake away the feelings she had found for the boy, scared that she might ruin the relationship they had built over the years, but the feelings never left, no matter how hard she tried.

How would they when he was her Knight in shining armour who defended her from the bullies and looked out for her every day of her life.

On his 18th birthday, y/n had finally mustered up enough courage to tell him how she felt. She had made a photo album for him, made of various pictures of them together along with a letter detailing her feelings for him.

When she made it to his house, she was heartbroken to find that he was not there. Nothing was there. He had gone, left her without saying a single world.

Y/n waited for him to return. She searched for him, even called the police asking if they knew anything, but no one could give her the answers she wanted. Her heart yearned to have him back, if not as a lover but as a friend, her only friend.

4 years later and y/n had finally found him.

She saw him sitting on a bench in the park, her heart skipped a beat and she felt tears burn her eyes.

She wanted to run up to him and slap him for leaving her without a word and then kiss him because she missed him so badly.

"John" her voice was barely audible but he had managed to hear her.

She saw how he visible stiffened as he recognised her voice and he slowly turned.

He looked the same but somehow different. His once lovable eyes were now replaced with anger and rage for the world, like he knew the secrets which hid behind the facade of rainbows and sunlight.

He no longer dressed in the baggy shirt and shorts like he did in school, but in a 3 piece suit which screamed power.

This wasn't y/n's john.

"y/n?" his voice was cold and his eyes widened as his past came back to haunt him. He took in her appearance and how little she had changed since he had left her.

In all honesty, he didn't want to leave her all those years ago but his life was meant for something else.

John swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that formed in his throat as he scrambled to stand in front of y/n, not being able to compose himself like THEY had taught him to. How could he pretend to be something else to y/n?

"John is this really you?" her hand shook as she reached out to touch his face, scared that he might disappear when she finally touched him.

John leaned into her touch, he had missed the feeling of her soft warm hands against his cold skin.

"yes. It's me, it's your giant" y/n laughed at the nickname she had given his all those years ago. As he spoke, she saw how the act of this tough guy broke and she could begin to see the real John peek through.

"where did you go?" she asked quietly and john pulled her to sit next to him on the bench.

"why did you leave me, John?." y/n's voice broke slightly as the tears threaten to fall as the anxiety, self-loaf and despair came rushing back. For so long she had blamed herself for john leaving, thinking she had done something wrong.

John held her hand in his, the size difference noticeable as he squeezed it reassuringly.

"y/n, you know who my father is. You know why i had to leave". John sounded defeated as he spoke and y/n sighed.

Of course she knew why he went, she just didn't want it to be true, she wanted him to have better.

Y/n was the only person john trusted to tell about the underground world of mafia bosses and assassins; the world that John was now apart of.

"so…do you-um- kill people?" y/n tried to joke but john could see that she was scared, scared of him.

The one person who he never wanted to hurt was afraid of him. He could tell by the way her grip tightened in his hand, the way she shifted awkwardly as she sat and more obviously, the way she couldn't bare to look him in the eyes.

"yes. I kill people, but they're the bad guys, people who deserve it"

He couldn't lie to her, even if it meant hurting her. Maybe he wanted to hurt her, that way she would be scared away and she would be safe.

He watched as y/n thought for a few seconds before a smile was etched on her face.

"john, i know i should be scared of you, but I know you, the real you. I know you will never hurt me so i'm not scared-"

That was a lie

"-I'm just glad you're back. I missed you giant"

That was the truth.

The next month was spent with john coming and going at all different hours of the day. Sometimes he would come with food and sometimes he would come with deep wounds that y/n would clean for him.

It was 3am, john was at y/n's doorstep blooded and close to death.

He had come to her with worse injuries before but it still scared her to see him so badly hurt.

Between her shaky hands and her practically passing out from the stress, it was more like john was taking care of her, but he had managed to talk her through the simple process of stitching him up.

"why did you come to me to stitch you up? You should have gone to someone professional" y/n ran her hand over her face, a small amount of john's blood now on her cheek.

John shrugged and struggled to stand.

"you're the only one I trust enough at the moment". Y/n froze as she felt her heart swell at the words he spoke so easily.

John moved to sit next to her on the sofa, a small hiss escaping his lips as he pulled at the stitches.

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder once he got comfortable and she reached out for his hand, tangling them together. She closed her eyes as she relaxed next to him, pretending that they were both careless teenagers again.

That's when y/n felt it underneath her grasp, the cold metal of a ring on his finger. Opening her eyes she took in the sight of a gold wedding ring on his finger and her heart sank.

"john?" she called out as she lifted their still enlaced hands to take a better look at it.

John looked at her confused and she just stared at the ring, unable to form words and hoping he would just understand.

John looked at y/n and how her eyes were glazed over, her attention on his finger. Flicking his eyes to their hands, he felt guilt wash over him.

"Oh don't be mad but im married. It will be 4 months soon".

Y/n wasn't mad, just saddened. Saddened because he didn't think to tell her and saddened that she never got the chance to tell him how she truly felt.

She forced a smile onto her face as she coaxed herself into being happy for John, it's the least he deserved.

"I'm not mad, I'm so happy. Tell me all about her. How did you meet?"

Y/n noticed how his previous stiff demeanor was gone and replaced with a relaxed and happy one as he spoke about his wife.

y/n zoned out as he spoke, unable to focus on his words as her heart broke into millions of pieces.

She only nodded as he spoke, picking up a few things about her. Her name, Helen and that he loved her.

She had lost her second chance at telling him how she felt, but she was not going to lose john for a second time so she decided to bite the bullet and smile.

She repeated the same sentence in her mind, 'do it for him'

"she sounds lovely, john. I'm so happy for you" she hugged john a little to hard as she congratulated him but he didn't have to be a trained assassin to tell when y/n was lying, she was his best friend for many years and he still cared about her.

Maybe he cared a little too much about her.

After an hour of talking, john had left her to go back home and y/n finally let herself completely relax.

Y/n watched as john drove away in the pouring rain, the downfall hiding her own tears. She lifted her hand as she waved goodbye to john and possibly any chance of her calling him hers.

Y/n let out a sigh of relief as she saw him turn the corner and she was once again alone.

Y/n moved to walk away, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed so she could forget about the pain in her chest, but something caught her attention. Someone was moving outside.

The rain and lack of light made it hard to make out a clear image. She squinted to try and get a better look, confused as to who would be standing outside in the rain at 4am.

The longer she stared, the more detail she could make out. It was a man, very tall and wielding a gun in hand, the metal of it glinting in the pale moonlight.

Anyone would be scared if they saw a man outside with a gun but Knowing of the world that John was involved in made things worse, y/n was petrified.

Y/n was frozen in place, not knowing what to do. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, quickly dialling johns number. He would know what to do.

A pounding at the door stopped her from pressing the call button and she jumped. Looking back out the window she could no longer see the figure and her stress level was through the roof.

A loud voice soon broke the silence.

"Let me in" she recognised the voice that echoed through the wooden door and y/n let out a breath of relief. It was John's voice.

Jogging over to the door, she flung it open ready to tell him about the strange man across the street.

"John. Thank God, there was a-"

Her breath caught in her throat as she didn't recognise who was at the door. It wasn't john.

A tall burly man with blonde hair and dressed in a suit stood before her, a smirk on his face and a recorder in hand.

Y/n couldn't comprehend what was going on, she had heard johns voice. So where was he?

The man rewinded the recorder before pressing the play button. The familiar voice of john saying "let me in" came from the device.

"I would have thought John told you to always check who was at the door before opening it. It's a shame really, i was hoping i could find Helen and get to john that way. But you will do just fine, y/n. You see, the baba yaga is weak when it comes to those he cares about, meaning we can kill him"

Y/n stared at him as she gulped, trying to decide what she should do.

Without a moment hesitation she tried to push the door shut, but the man was quicker as he pushed him way in.

Y/n's legs burned as she pushed herself to run through the house and away from the intruder.

Y/n felt a pressure in her leg, stopping her in her tracks as pain shot through her body. The echo of a gunshot drowned out by her beating heart loud in her ears.

She fell to the ground in agony, a scream escaping from her mouth as blood began to pool around her. She looked down at her thigh which was now covered in blood, her fast pulse speeding up the process of her bleeding out. Her hands shook as she grazed over the wound.

The shouts of a man speaking in a foreign language pulled her out of her daze and her adrenaline pushed her to continue to move, to escape.

She tried to stand, the pain unbearable but the risk of being caught was far worse than the pain she was experiencing.

Limping, she moved to the back door, hoping to escape and get someone's help.

She was inches from it, escape was within her grasp but luck was not in her favour.

Her hair was yanked back with force and she was pulled to the ground.

She let out a scream as her leg twisted awkwardly from the counter force.

The man stood above her and looked down pitifully.

"you shouldn't have run. You made me shoot you and the boss is not going to be happy about receiving damaged goods"

"please" she sobbed out "what do you want from me? I can give you money if you want. Please just let me go" the man laughed deeply at her futile efforts of bargaining.

"we want John and you will bring him right to us".

Y/n let out a whimper as her hopes of waking up from the nightmare slipped away.

"so i'm sorry i have to do this but we need to move this along. This may hurt" The man offered her a genuine apologetic smile before delivering one swift punch to y/n's face, rendering her unconscious and at the mercy of this man.

Tbc

____

Taglist (just ask to be tagged)

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me @harrisongslimited

#john wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #john wick oc #keanucharlesreeves #john wick series #john wick au #john wick headcanon #John wick x you #John wick oc

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fatrainbowmermaidunicorn · 5 years

Text

Rich Girl, Poor Boy (Jungkook x You x Taehyung) (ONESHOT)

A/N:This is a rare occurance where I write a non-idol AU 😂 and also, its not edited, so expect to find lots of grammatical error and typo errors

Jungkook sighed as he looks up at the stars lining the clear dark skies and stands up to make his way inside the huge ballroom of his family mansion, which is often dark and gloomy but tonight is filled with bright lights and people's laughter. Tower of wine and champagne dotted the table, the food, extravagant, the girls, beautiful, the music, exquisite, his parents would have hire Beethoven himself if he were still alive, anything in the name to show everyone, both enemies and allies, how powerful the Jeon family is.

This is just another normal parties for them, for their "crowd". Jungkook is raised within other big families, wealthy families with empires of their own, all only soughting for one thing; more power. But between all the money talks and business opportunities, Jungkook found one friend he knew he could trust and count on, Kim Taehyung, the one and only heir of the Kim family, his childhood friend, and next door neighbour. Taehyung and Jungkook share no similarities. Whist Taehyung prefer to enjoy the more beautiful parts in life, visiting galleries and taking photos of sceneries he foumd mesmerizing, Jungkook prefer to spend his days partying, drunk till the daylight shines and waking up with girls he wont remember the name of the next day. While Taehyung tries to hide away from his family name and fortune, Jungkook basked in every single cent of it. But still, they are the best of friends, always having each other backs againts their parents, the judgemental society, the world.

"Hey, where have you gone?" Taehyung smile the moment he saw Jungkook came in front the massive garden door, a drink in his hand.

"Just getting a breather from all..." Jungkook looks around the grand ballromm, bright with expensive decorations and chandeliers, "this,"

Taehyung laughed.

"Why? Dont you like parties? Girls? Champagne? A place to show off your the next Jeon heir? This parties have everything you like roll into one Kookie,"

"Yah, I'm not that bad!" Jungkook glares. "You know I only embraced it because theres no way I can run from it. Or hide. You are just lucky your parents gets you Tae," he smile and pat Taehyung's back.

"And you are lucky you got me," Taehyung winked. Jungkook lets out a laugh. True. He dont think he can hold on to his sanity without Taehyung always anchoring him back. Parties, booze, girls, money, its all fun but what Jungkook really wants is to do music. Write it, sing it, performed it, play it. All of it. But music for the sole Jeon heir? Hah, no way in hell his parents is going to let him. And they are not shy in hiding it either. His parents have been telling him about his responsibility as the family heir every since he could understand what money is. Every chance and opportunity he ever had to play music, his parents destroy without hesitation. He dont have a chance to even explain how music makes him feel.

Happy.

So he buried all of it deep in the grounds. And if his parents wants him to embrace his life as a Jeon heir, then a Jeon heir hes going to be. Thus, money, parties, booze and girls.

"Maybe I do Tae," he laughs. "Old people alert," Jungkook points to an old couple, a family friend, waltzing their way to the two young men, a young girl in tow, ready to be inteoduced to the duo. Most probably their daughter, niece, granddaughter, Jungkook doesnt care, its all the same. They are all gorgeous, shallow, vain, dumb and absolutely boring.

"They never give up do they? Even when you and Adora are al-"

"Gotta go now," Jungkook quickly move away, hiding himself behind the huge, thick curtains his mother spent a fortune on. Sensing the line is clear, he makes his way swiftly to behind the buffet line, ducking every few second, trying to make it out of the room. Busy looking around for possible old people prospect he hits a wall.

A wall that talks.

"Oww! Watch where you are going you idiot!"

Jungkook immediately looks down to the girl sprawled on the floor. Not only the wall is a girl. A rude girl. And.. a beautiful one.

Jungkook smiles.

/////

Y/N looks up to the man who bumped into her. Hes now just looking at her, not saying anything. She take this opportunity to size him up. Hes all dressed up in a suit, an expensive suit at that, so he must be a guest. Shit, shes so dead. Lets just hope hes not an important guest. He is also very, beey handsome. Y/N was mesmerized for a second before she gets a grip and blinked.

"Oww! Watch where you are going you idiot!"

The man didnt say anythin, just smiling at her.

"Helloo? Are you deaf? You are blind and now you cant talk too?" She huffed and stands up on her own, holding tightly the huge coat covering her torn dress. She needs to het to the bathroom quickly, but this idiot havent moved.

"Excuse me? May I pass?"

"Oh, yeah right," the man smile and move aside a bit. When shes just about to pass him, he suddenly spoke. "How come I have never seen you before?"

Y/N was surprised at the question. In a ballroom as big as this, does this man assume he knows everyone?

"Because you hit your head and I'm just your imagination," Y/N roll her eyes. Isnt that the worse pick up line or what? The man chuckle.

"Hmm witty. I like it. But seriously. Who are you? May I know your name?"

"No. And I'm in a rush to mend my torn dress, so if you will excuse me," Y/N sighed and try to make her way again. The man stops her by pulling her hand, startling her.

"I think I can help with that" he winks and drag her outside the huge ballroom.

"Wait, where are you taking me?! Stop or I'll scream!"

"You can scream but I think you will be the one in trouble. And trust me. Do you think a criminal would wear a suit this good?" He laughs and continue to drag her along. Y/N contemplates on what he said, confused as to what he meant. But it didnt take long when he stops in front of a giant door and push it open.

Inside the room are walls and walls of clothes. Dresses, pantsuits, skirts any piece of clothing one could ever imagined.

"W-what is all this?"

"Take your pick,"

"B-but whose are all this?" Y/N walks and touched all the expensive material with the tip of her fingers. She turns back and look at him."Who are you? How can you know about this?"

Jungkook was taken by surprise.

"U-uh..." he realizes that the girl dont know who he is, and its so refreshing to meet someone who for once doesnt know who he is, and he really wants to keep it that way. "I work here. I manage the performances? These are all costume. So you can borrow one,"

"Really?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "All these expensive materials are costumes?"

"Hey, the Jeons ask for the best, and I delivered," he shrugs, feigning ignorance. Y/N ponders for a while. If its the Jeons, what he say could be true. Everybody know they live life basking in luxury "Just pick one okay? As a payback for bumping into you,"

"Well.. if you put it that way..." she grins and start to go through all the beautiful dresses she could only have ever imagine of being this close to.

Jungkook leans by the door and look at the mystery girl rummaging through his mother old clothes, a smile unexpectedly creeping up his face.

"By the way, I'm Y/N," she peeked theough the clothes and smile. "Whats yours?"

"Me? I'm uh... J-Jungkook," Y/N immediately turns to face him and raised her eyebrows at the mentioned of the name and Jungkook immediately realizes she knows who "Jungkook" is. "Kim Jungkook," he quickly corrected. "I am Kim Jungkook," he laugh awkwardly, hoping she wont notice anything.

"Jungkook? Thats your name? The same name as the heir to this household?" Y/N asks, curious.

"Uh... yeah. You know him?" Jungkook asks cautiously, crossing his fingers for her answer to be no.

"Not personally, of course," she laughs. "I dont know what he looks like but I do hear that name being mentioned once in a while," she shrugs. "And you work here? Isnt that confusing?" She giggles.

"Uh no. I dont really work in close proximity with him. Hes always out and about. Doing uh... stuff," Jungkook answers nervously. "And we also look totally different,"

"Yeah? Well, if he is as handsome as people say he is, maybe you guys have a lot of similarities," Y/N laughs and went back to dive inside the closet

"Maybe..," Jungkook smiles. "Maybe we do," Oh Y/N, you have no idea.

/////

"You keep texting and smiling these days Y/N. Is someone having a new boyfriend?" Adora giggle and peek her hewd to the phone screen that Y/N is holding, which she quickly hide with a blush on her face.

"N-no. Not a boyfriend...."

"But.. it is a boy?" Adora's eyes turned wide, her grin; bigger. "Oh my god, why didnt you tell me?! Im so excited! Who is he? Where did yoi two meet? Show me a picture!"

Y/N laughed.

"Well.. I uh didnt think you would be interested in my love life, since you know.. you are my-"

"Friend?" Adora glares at her. "That better be the end of your sentence L/N Y/N!" She crosses her arms across her chest and frowns. Y/N smile sheepishly.

"Y-yeah. Friends," Y/N agrees, eventhough she knows they are no where near to being friends. But she knows better than to defy Adora. Her relationship with Adora is... complicated? Well, not really. Shes her personal maid. Enough said. Although Adora prefer the word "handmaiden" or "personal assistsnce" or her personal favorite, "friend". To be fair, Adora really does thinks of her as a friend, and treated her like one too. But Y/N know her place. Shes a maid. Thats all she is. She jumped from one job to another, washing peoples clothes, washing dishes, picking up trash to get by, and by luck, out of million others who applied, Adora, the only daughter of a multi millionaire pick her to be her "personal assistance". She has only been working with her for a month, but she can already tell that Adora has the heart of gold.

"So who is he? You should tell your friend this kind of things you know," she giggles. "How did you two meet?"

"Well... actually. We uh met at that party you brought me a month ago," she blushes and looks down.

"Shut up!" Adora squeals. "You have met him a month ago and this is the first time I'm hearing this?! You have been texting this guy for a month?!"

"Well... yeah?"

"Oh gosh, things must have been serious! Tell me more!" Adora gushed excitedly. "And you met him at the party? Thats means he must be some other chaebol too! Oh Y/N, we can have a double wedding!"

"What?" Y/N laughs. "Okay, first of all, I only known him for a month. And second, hes not a chaebol. He works there. Do you think some rich kid would even spare me a second glance. I was there at the party as your m-mai-" her words trailed off when Adora glares. "Uh friend. I was only there as your friend, not even in the guest list,"

"Well, anyone would be blind to not fall for you. You are beautiful, inside and out," she smiles. Y/N nods and gave her a small smile. She knows Adora is just being nice, but coming from a beauty queen that has everything like her, it does means a lot. "Okay, I have to go meet my fiance. But you are not off the hook yet! You will definitely tell me everything about this mystery guy when I came back okay?"

Y/N laughs and nods.

"Anything you need me to prepare for while you are out?"

"Hmmm, nothing," Adora ponders. "Oh right, my fiancee is coming here after the cake appointment. So maybe you can prepare some tea and cakes or something?"

"Wait," Y/N pretends to gasps. "You are telling me I finally get to meet this infamous fiancee of yours?"

Since she has only been working here for a month, she has never met Adora's fiancee. She never asked about him either. All she knows is that his family is just as rich as Adora's is and they are childhood friends. Their parents sets them up together so that the famoly money will stay close.

"I guess you finally will," she winks. "Ill see you okay? Love ya," Adora picks up her Balanciaga purse and give her a flying kiss before heading off to the car where the driver is waiting.

Well, she guess she better prepare something special for this special guest then.

/////

"Seriously, why am I being dragged to a cake testing?" Taehyung complaint for the gazillion time as they walk passed rows and rows of expensively decorated cake.

"Because Tae, its free food. And you are my bestfriend, so you should get tortured with me," Jungkook shrugs and poke one of his fingers in one the cake and lick the cream off.

"You both can afford the best wedding planner ten times over, why even bother to taste the cake? Cant you pay someone to do it?" Taehyung poke the same cake and licks it clean too.

"Because," Jungkook roll his eyes. "As if you dont know my fiance Tae. She aims for this to be the wedding of the millenium. And shes a superb bridezilla. She wants to have a say in everything. And apparently, she wants me around while shes saying it,"

"And you follow what she says because?"

"So that I can go home and sleep peacefully at night and not have her and my parents all nagging at me to take this damn wedding seriously!"

"Damn wedding?" Taehyung raised an eyebrows. "I thought you have accepted the fact that you have always meant to marry one of our own? And shes your closest friend, other than me of course. And isnt it you who said, "If I have to marry for riches, I'm glad its Adora"?"

"Well..." Jungkook scratched his head. "That was before I met someone..." Taehyung's eyes widen. "At that party a month ago,"

"You are engaged Jeon Jungkook, what do you mean you met someone?!"

"Shut up okay! We dont want Adora to hear!" Jungkook hissed while looking around. "I just did okay. Its not like I planned it. Shes just so... refreshing. Not to mention... so undeniably beautiful," Jungkook smiles.

"What the hell Kookie? You sound as if you really like this girl. And you never like anyone!"

"I dont know Tae. Shes... different," Jungkook shrugs. "And I really think I want to try with her,"

"Oh my god," Taehyung rans his hands across his face. "So what are you going to do? The wedding is in a few months,"

"I seriously dont know Tae," Jungkook sighs.

"Well, I think, what you need to do now is..." Taehyung smile and nods to someone behind Jungkook, and Jungkook knows exactly who that is by the sound of her expensive heels and the smell of her even more luxurious perfume, "is taste the damn cake with your fiance,"

/////

Tea... Cupcakes... Sugar... Creamers... Short breads...

Y/N arranged the centerpiece for the millionth time as she straighten the teapot again. All ready for Adora and her fiance. Y/N wants it to be perfect. After all, thats the best she can do for the nice treatment Adora has been giving her all this while. She straighten her dress and pick at a lose thread and takes a deep breath. Why is she even so nervous? Y/N chuckle to herself.

She quickly make her way to the doorway once she heard the sound of engine running at the driveway.

That must be Adora.

She opened the door to welcome a smiley Adora who linked her arms to hers while pushing a box of cakes into her other hand.

"Here. I brought some of the cakes we tasted. Tell me what you think okay?" She smiles and walked with Y/N to the tearoom. Y/N looked behind her shoulders to see if there are any guests.

"Wheres uh-"

"My fiancee?" Adora giggles. "You are really eager to meet him dont you? He will be in in a minute. Lets just go first. Hes been here a million times, he knows how to welcome himself in," she takes a seat at the neatly arranged table and Y/N quickly rushed over to served her the tea and cakes.

"You did a good job Y/N," Adora nods at the selection of tea and desserts spread in front of her.

"Thanks miss. I-"

"Dora, where do you want me to put your-" Y/N halted from pouring the tea, spilling it on the table the moment she heard the voice. very familiar voice. A voice that she heard for the first time a month ago, but it never left her mind... and heart. Her heart stops as she looks up from the spilled tea and Adora's frowns to see the face of the man that has been haunting her dreams. And by the look of how he too stop mid sentence, Y/N is pretty sure he recognizes her too.

"Jungkook?"

Adora quickly turns her head up from Y/N to Jungkook to Y/N again. Confused on how the two know each other. Confused on how her maid can adress her fiancee so casually.

"Wait. How do you know his name?" Adora looks at her, a frown on her face. "Dont tell me you two know each other?"

"Well, we uh..," Y/N gulped and looks from Adora to Jungkook, not really sure what to say. Is this really Adora's fiancee? She will kill her if she knows about her and Jungkook. "We-"

Jungkook quickly recovered from his shocked and cut her off.

"No we dont. I have never seen her before in my life. Maybw you got the wrong person?" Jungkook shrugs and place Adora's thibgs on the chair.

"But babe, she knows your name?" Adora looks at him, still suspicious. He kmows Jungkook is a ladies man, but he promise he will honor their relationship, although they both know he doesnt love her.

"Baby, almost everyone know my name. But that doesnt mean I kmow them now do I?"

Y/N looks at the two conversing like she isnt even there, dumbfounded. Is Jungkook really the wrong guy? Or is he pretending not to know her? But why? But then again, the Jungkook she knows cant be Adora's fiancee right? Her fiancee is the Jeon's heir. Are they twins or something?

"Are you sure Kookie? Y/N looks like she really knows you," Adora tilted her head, confused and suspicious.

"I dont babe. Who is she anyway?" Jungkook took a step forward and look at her. Y/N stares back, taking in all his features. His brown doe eyes, his bunny teeth, the mole under his lips... yes its him. She can recognize him anywhere after the countless photos they exchanged through texts. "Your friend?"

"Y-yeah, she uh.. my friend," Adora smiles. Jungkook looks at hee and back to Y/N again after her stutter and laughs.

"Babe, why is your friend serving you tea then? Are you befriending the help again?" Jungkook laughs and take a sit. "Hey, pour me some," he motioned to Y/N. With shaky hands and beating hearts, Y/N went over and serve the man the tea she work so hard to made perfect.

Adora ignores him and ask him again, seeking confirmation. "Are you sure you dont know her Kookie?" She turns to Y/N. "Y/N? You sure?"

Y/N gulped. Should she tell the truth? But whats the point if Jungkook himself is hiding the fact that they know each other right?

"I dont babe. Just trust me already," Jungkook sighed, saving Y/N from answering. "Besides, where would I even know a..." he looks at Y/N with disgust. "A maid from? I dont even remember my own maids, why would I remember yours?"

Y/N felt her heart stop. So much for thinking hes the only guy at the party that wasnt stuck up and see people for who they are and not their status. Hes actually the worse of them all!

"She was at the party a month ago Kookie. The party at your house? Remember? I brought her along,"

His house. That explain the closet full of dresses. Gosh Y/N, how are you so stupid? Works with costume? Same name as the heir? So gullible Y/N! Serves you right.

"Nahh, doesnt ring a bell. Maybe she saw me baby," Jungkook shrugs. "I am afterall is the host,"

"Y/N?" Adora looks at her.

"I-I uh.." Y/N tried to blink back the tears and embarrasment she felt. "I was mistaken. Im very sorry Sir, Miss," she bows.

Adora sigh. "Fine, I will believe you Y/N because I know you wont lie to me. Now I need to make one phone call, Kookie, will you help Y/N carry my stuff inside?"

"Its okay! I can do it on my own!" Y/N quickly interjects. Theres no way she wants to be alone with Jungkook, sorry, Jeon Jungkook right now.

"Dont be stupid. Its a lot. And its Birkins. I dont want you to drop them," Adora giggles. "I went shopping earlier. Help her Kookie, I'll be back," she smile and went out to her call.

Y/N kept quiet and quickly gather up the bags. Jungkook immediately gran her wrist the moment Adora left the room.

"Y/N, I can ex-"

"Sir, please let go of my hand. I need to get going with Miss Adora's bags," Y/N tries to shake him off.

"No! You are not going anywhere until you let me explain!" Jungkook insisted, turning her to face him but Y/N immediately avoid eye contact. How can she look him in the eye after what he did. All her life, her friends have been embarassed by her because of what she do, she cant believe she fell for a guy who felt that way about her too.

"You dont need to ecplain anything Sir, I understand,"

"Stop fucking call me that! And just let me fucking explain!"

The harsh words struck a cord in her, making Y/N bravely look up to his face. "Explain what huh? How you lied to me about who you are? Or how you just insulted me? Or how you are sooo embarassed to actually admit that you know me?" She lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Of course you are. You are the great Jeon Jungkook right? How can you be associated with a maid? How can you even be friends with one?! And you are even engaged!"

"Y/N, please," Jungkook look defeated but still grab her hand before she can walk away. "You dont understand. My world... its different than yours. Its all about money, and status. Adora and me is not even in love with each other but we are getting married because her family status is the only one that matches mine!"

"Right Jungkook, blame it on the money, on the status. But you know what, all that doesnt determined what kind of a person you are. The disgusted look on your face when you realized that I'm your fiancee's maid? No one can fake that," she laughs. "I was wrong about you. Your kind are all the same!"

"W-wrong about me? What do you mean?" Jungkook pull her back again. "Y/N please okay? Give me time to figure things out. Its hard for me!"

"Its hard for you? Really?" Y/N laughs again. "Then I'll make it easy for you. Just forget that you ever knew me. I'm just Miss Adora's maid!" She yelled and grab all the shopping bags.

"Y/N, atleast let me-" Jungkook tries to grab some of the bags from her.

"Just dont Jungkook," she said so weakly and brokenhearted, Jungkook stop mid track. "Just dont okay? Just stay here and have tea with your fiancee. She deserves better," Y/N quickly grab everything and ran off, leaving Jungkook standing alone in the tea room.

/////

Y/N kicked the lose stone with her foot, sighing loudly. After rearranging the Birkins in Adora's massive closet, she was dismissed, much to her relief. Although she is unsure whether her dismissal is cause by Adora suspicion about her and Jungkook or just because her help wasnt needed. Whatever it is, Y/N was grateful as she make her way to the empty garden. She needs to get whatever the hell it is that happened earlier our of her system. She needs to get Jungkook, Adora's fiancee, the Jeon's heir Jungkook, out of her system. She dont know how much longer she can work here. Once Adora and Jungkook gets married, she is pretty sure she will be seeing him even more. She decides to quit as soon as he find something else. Although working with Adora pays good money, but she values her insanity more. She has to quit. She will quit right after the wedding. When Adora dont need her help as much anymore.

"Hey, I didnt know anyone is here? I'm usually the only one who hangs around here," A male voice interrupted her thoughts as she felt his presence sitting down besides her. Y/N look up to the most handsome man she has ever seen. She almost rub her eyes, thinking shes dreaming. How can anyone who looks like that be real?

"I-I'm sorry. Im new here. The whole month I was here no one ever comes to this garden," she quickly stands up amd bows, ready to walk away. The man laughs and pull her wrist, asking her to sit down. For a monent when their skin touched, Y/N felt butterflies.

"Hey its alright. Its a big garden, we can share," he smiles and Y/N immediately feel comfortable. "And also its my fault, I havent come to visited Adora for so long. So thankyou for keeping my favorite garden bench warm,"

"Oh. Y-you are Miss Adora's friend?" Y/N immediately stands up and bows. Adora might treat her like a friend, but she is pretty sure her friends doesnt. And the way Jungkook just treated her proves that. The man furrowed his brows, confused.

"Why are you bowing? And why do you call Dora miss?"

"I'm uh her-"

"Wait, are you her personal helper?"

"Yes, yes I am," Y/N smile at the term the man use. Personal helper, instead of maid. Shes also sure that if this main is Adora's friend, means hes part of that world. The world that Jungkook said cared about status and money more than anything. He would definitely shoo her away now that he knows shes the maid. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. Miss Adora said I can use this garden if I wanted too. I didnt know someone else uses it too,"

"Where are you going?" The man pouts. "Just stay here and talk to me somemore. I'm bored. I mean, if tou dont mind?" He looks at her. Y/N blinks. He still wants to talk to her eventhough shes the help?

"B-but, maybe you didnt hear me. I'm Miss Adora's maid,"

"Uh okay?" The man looks at her confused. "Ohhh, do you have to go and do for her right now?"

"N-no. I mean... I'm a maid. Are you sure you want me to stay and talk to you?"

"Whats wrong with that? A helper is just a job, not who you are. And plus, why wouldnt I want to stay and talk to a pretty girl like you?" He winks, making Y/N blush. Y/N contemplate for a momebt, and after a bad day she had, maybe talking to this handsome stranger is what she needed.

"Okay. Maybe I can spare a few minutes," she smile and sits back down.

"Just so you know, Im not some weirdo or anything. I came here with my friend, hes Adora's fiancee. Maybe you know him?" Y/N nodded slowly. Oh.. so he knows Jungkook too, which means they are all childhood friends. "I'm Kim Taehyung by the way, whats your name?"

Y/N smile. Even his name is beautiful.

"I'm L/N Y/N. Hi Kim Taehyung, its nice to meet you,"

/////

"Is Tae really coming Kookie?" Adora plays with her freshly manicured fingers and looks at her fiance.

"Yeah. He promised me," Jungkook answered lazily. He spent the whole day at Adora's house after the fateful meeting with Y/N earlier, hoping to catch a glimpse of her again, but nothing. Adora had dismissed her for the rest of the day. Now she suggested they went out for dinner, and to avoid the boring conversations he would have with his future wife, he ask, no, forced Taehyung to come with him, which suprisingly, he said yes easily.

"Maybe he bailed. You know he hates to third wheel us Kookie. Why do you always drag him anyway?"

"Well, because hes the best man babe. He should know stuff. And also, he said hes bringing a date tonight," Jungkook shrugs.

"A date? Taetae? Who? Do I know the girl?"

Jungkook turns to look at his fiance and smirks. "Is that jealousy I hear babe? You know I'm still your fiancee right?"

"What the hell are you even talking about? Why would I be jealous if Taetae dates someone?" She laughs awkwardly. "Its about time he does,"

Jungkook laughs and roll his eyes. "Oh please babe, anyone can see you have the hots for him since we were five. Too bad your stuck with me. Dont worry, I still support your love for him. I think you will be good for him," Jungkook laughs. Adora's face turned red.

"Shut up! And dont say anything to anyone. Remember I'm marrying you wild bunny! And what an unfortunate luck that is," she laughs.

"Girls would kill to be you babe, you know that," Jungkook smiles. "Here comes your lover boy," Jungkook motioned to the red Jaguar parked outside as Taehyung huddled out.

"Hey Tae," he smile. "Wheres your imaginary date?" Jungkook looks around and laughs. Taehyung hits his shoulder and laughs.

"Its not imaginary. But then again, shes so beautiful, you might not think shes real," Taehyung winks.

"Whatever," Jungkook roll his eyes. "Where is she?"

"Actually, I'm here to pick her up," Taehyung smile, making both Adora and Jungkook confused. "Here she is now," he motioned to Y/N whos walking through the lawn from the maid's door. "Dora, I hope you dont mind I'm taking Y/N out tonight?"

Adora's eyes widen in surprise, jealousy stir inside of her but she still feel happy for Y/N as she knows that Taehyung will take good care of her. She plastered on a smile.

"Y/N? Shes your date?" She grins. "Sure Tae. Just make sure you show her a good time,"

"You know I will," he winks and reached out his arms to Y/N. "Hey, you look beautiful," he smiles.

Jungkook who has been watching the whole thing quietly clenched his fist without realizing. When the fuck did Taehyung meet her? And she said yes to his invitation just like that?!

Y/N almost stop mid way when she saw Jungkook and Adora at the hallway. Taehyung only asks her out to dinner, he didnt say its a double date! She almost turned back but Taehyung already approached her.

"Hey, you look beautiful," he smiles.

"H-hi Tae," she blushes shyly and start fussing with her simple sundress the moment she saw both Taehyung and Jungkook in a suit and Adora in a enchantingly beautiful dress, no doubt designer. What the hell is she thinking? She accepted Kim Taehyung's invitation , one of the most sought after heir there is, yes she googled, and she thinks her sundress is good enough? "I - uh I didnt know Jungkook-ssi and Miss Adora is coming too," she leans in and whisper to him. "I think I'm under dress,"

Taehyung laughs.

"You look very beautiful Y/N," he reached out and hold her hand, making her feel hot all over. "She does right?" He beams at the other two. Adora quickly link her arms with her. "You do! It doesnt really matter what you wear Y/N!" Adora leans in closer to her. "Especially not when Kim Taehyung keeps on looking at you like that," she winks, making Y/N blush ever more.

Jungkook who heard what Adora said felt her whole face heat up. That little- urghhh.

"Come on Kookie. Lets go. Lets drive our own car and leave the lovebirds alone," Adora giggles and link arms with Jungkook. Jungkook looks up to see Y/N's reaction to what Adora said. Surely she must felt something. Just this morning they were still texting each other! But what he sees when he looks up is Taehyung staring at her, smiling shamelessly and Y/N staring back, smiling shyly.

This date night is going to be a loooong night.

/////

Things were going well between Y/N and Taehyung. After that surprisingly comfortable and not at all awkward date night, they have gotten closer. Taehyung spend a lot of time at Adora's house now. Main excuse being he is Jungkook's best man and he have to be there, but with all the dismissal Adora kept giving her when Taehyung is around, everyone knows the real reason Taehyung is around.

Still, seeing Jungkook and Adora together still hurts her sometimes. Seeing him laugh with her, joking around. Y/N knows they dont love each other, but the comfortable level and chemistry they have with one another, after being friends since they were born, makes her jealous sometimes. She can see the real side of Jungkook whenever she came in to serve them dinner or tea, or help Adora with some of her things. She can see what a dork he really is, despite his label of being a wild, party man. She can see that hes funny, caring, competitive and he has a love for food like no other. And all this little things only makes her fall for him even more, despite Taehyung being the sweetheart he is around her.

But Jungkook is Adora's fiancee, and nothing can change that. Plus, Jungkook refuses to be associated with her, cant be associated with her, the maid. So maybe its best that she stick to her plan to leave after the wedding.

/////

"Hey, that engagement tea party you are having with Dora, you dont mind if I bring Y/N right?" Taehyung asks as they were having drinks together. Jungkook felt his heart boiled everytime Taehyung mentioned her name. Its bad enough that he can only see her during the short minutes she came in to serve them food, but she isnt even replying to any of his texts or answer his calls anymore. He misses her, although he knows its his fault for not saying anything when they came face to face.

"Sure. But wont she need to work or something? She works for Dora you know," Jungkook tries to act nonchalant. The whole reason why he wanted to host the party at Adora's house is because he hope to see Y/N, even if its only glimpses of her. The closer he is to the wedding, the more anxious he becomes.

"I'm sure Dora would give her an exception. She seems ro be very supportive of our relationship," Taehyung smiles.

"So... what are you two now? Like boyfriend girlfriend or something?" Jungkook acts line he doesnt care about the answer although his heart is screaming for Taehyung to just answer the damn question.

"Well...no," Taehyung answer and take a sip of his drink, as Jungkook felt relieved with the answer. "But I hope that would change, real soon," he smiles. "Like real soon. Like tea party soon?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I want to ask her to be my girlfriend, at your engagement party," Taehyung grind and took out a box from his pocket, which opens up to a beautiful ring. "Its romantic right? Asking her to go steady with me at an engagement party?"

"A ring?" Jungkook eyed the ring carefully, in his heart he knows he would buy Y/N something much better than that if hes given a chance, "dont you think thats too much just to ask her to be your girlfriend? You are not asking her to marry you. Right?" Jungkook asks nervously. Taehyung laughs.

"Of course not. But being extra is what we are all about Kookie. I know she dont care about all this material shit, and thats why I love her, but I want her to know shes special. You k-"

"Wait, love her?" Jungkook sits up from his leaning position.

"Well..." Taehyung grins sheepishly. "I know its just a month Kookie... but I think I love her. Ive never met anyone like her,"

Jungkook tries to calmed down his heart, his hand shaking from wanting to punch Taehyung right in the face. The worst part is, he knows how that feels. Because he too, admitted to himself a long time ago, that he is head over heels in love with Y/N. But he ruined everything didnt he?

/////

I'll be right back okay?" Taehyung kisses her hands and smile before heading off to meet someone in a suit. Must be one of his business partner or something. Y/N nods and smile and stood at the most glamourous tea party she has ever attended. Well, the only tea party she ever attended. Who host tea parties nowadays anyway? But the fabulousness of the party is expected from Adora. Feeling awkward standing on her own, Y/N make her way to a more secluded part of the garden after observing that Taehyung will most probably take a long time. She sat down at the bench and closes her eyes, inhaling the fresh air, thinking about what her life have becomes. How did she managed to catch Kim Taehyung's eyes? He is not playing her is he?

"I can see that you are enjoying the lifestyle of rich and famous,"

Y/N eyes popped open to the voice and as expected, stood right in front of her, Jeon Jungkook with a cocky smile. She immediately stood up and start to walk away.

"Where are you going? Cant take the truth?" Jungkook mocked. What is he implying? That she is using Taehyung for his riches? Y/N turns around, glaring at her.

"What do you want Jungkook-ssi?"

"Jungkook-ssi?" Jungkook laughs. "Dont you think we have moved past that? Especially when my fiancee told me that you told her you met someone incredible at the party few months back. Im assuming thats me?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"So what? You are here to gloat? I was dumb back then. It was a mistake. You are obviously not who I thought you were. I thought you were different, but you are not," Y/N sighed. "Is that all?"

"So Taehyung is?" Jungkook look straight into her eyes, face serious.

"H-he-" his question took her by surprise.

"Is Taehyung different then Y/N? Is he everything you ever wanted then? Is he able to erase all your memories of me? Of us?" Jungkook took a step closer to her. Y/N felt her breathing starts to goes rapid and tries to calm down. Jungkook still has this effect on her.

"T-taehyung is a good man. Hes kind, handsome, nice, a gentleman, a romantic, he treats me good, he kno-"

"But do you love him?"

"W-what?" Y/N panics. How could Jungkook asks her that.

"Do you. Love. Him?" Jungkook repeated the question more seriously and took a step forward.

"I-I," she panics. "How can I answer that? Its only been a month since we met!"

"But you were in love with me within a month that we met," Jungkook closes the gap and held both her wrists, whispering close to her face.

"I was not!"

"Yeah.. you are," he smirks, face only inches from hers.

"N-no, I wasnt!"

"You are Y/N, in fact, you are still in love with me now," he smirks more.

"I am definitely not!" She tries to squirm as he gets closer.

"Yeah?" Jungkook smirks and closes the gap, his lips on her, tounge asking permission for more which Y/N immediately granted as she closes her eyes as his lips touched hers.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever when Jungkook finally pull away and look into her eyes, whispering. "I love you Y/N. As much as you love me, I love you more,"

Y/N felt tears prickled her eyes. She wanted to hear those words from him from the first day she realized her feelings. But now that she did... she knows they can never be.

"Please, choose me. Dont choose Tae. Choose me," Jungkook said softly, begging. Y/N closes her eyes, the tears she tried to blink back finally rolled out. "Please?"

"I-" she sobs. "I always have been choosing you Jungkook," she answered back, barely a whisper. "But will you... ever be able to choose me?"

Jungkook was surprised by her answer, eyes widening. Y/N lets out a half smile and released herself from his grip.

"Just... go away Jeon Jungkook. For real this time," she wipe her tears and ran off into the party before Jungkook can say anything.

/////

"Hey, you okay? Where did you go? I was looking all over for you," Taehyung greeted her, smiling. Y/N smile back and looks at him. Such the perfect guy. "Whats wrong? Anything wrong with my face?"

Y/N smile. "No Tae," she grazed his face. "You are perfect,"

"Yeah? Well, in that case, I have something to ask you," he smile and take her to a water fountain in the park, already decorated with fairy lights, her favorite. He sat her down and kneeled in front of her, hands holding both of hers. "Y/N? I know we just met. But I want you to know that Ive never felt this happy as this one month that I am with you. And at first... I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend today..."

Y/N's mouth gaped open, surprised.

"But..." Taehyung continues. "I realized that that wasnt enough for me. I know its too fast and we dont have to do it right away, you can take all the time you need, but Y/N please say yes. Please Y/N... will you... uh..." Taehyung looks utterly nervous as he smile and looks into her eyes."Will you do the honors of being my wife?"

/////

Taehyung smiles and fix his best friend's bowtie. Jungkook looks emotionlessly at his reflection in the mirror.

"Its your wedding day Kookie, why do you look like a zombie?" Taehyung asks and smile. Jungkook tries to flash a small smile but failed. He chase after Y/N that day at the party. It took him a few minutes to realized that he dont care what his parents will say, he dont care what society will say, he dont care what Adora or Taehyung will think of him. He dont care about money or status. He never did. It was all what his parents put inside his head. All he cares about right now is that Y/N knows that he chooses her. And he will keeps on choosing her. He wants to be with her. He knows he will be his happiest as long as Y/N is with him. But the few minutes he took is a few minutes too late. The moment he found her, all he can see is Taehyung kneeling down in front of her, smiling, the ring box opened and presented to her.. asking Y/N to marry him.

To marry him.

Jungkook immediately turns back and ran out from the party before she can answer. He dont need to hear it. He already knows that happiness will never ever again be his.

And now its one week later, he is in his wedding suit, about to get married to his childhood bestfriend, and the man who get the girl of his dreams, his best man.

"I just want to get today over and done with Tae," he sighed.

"Kookie," Taehyung turned serious. "You know... if you dont want to marry Dora, you can just tell your parents you know? Sure, they love their money and status but they love you more. Trust me," he smiles.

"Whats the point Tae?" Jungkook gave a small smile. Whats the point when Y/N is marrying you?

"The point is for you to be happy and do what you truly want Kookie,"

"Theres nothing else that I want Tae. Happiness? Happy?" He scoff. "That was never meant for me. And I deserved it. After all the hearts I break, I deserved this fate," Jungkook sighed. "Now just stop with your pep talk and lets get me married okay?" Jungkook look at his relfection one last time and start walking side by side with Taehyung down the aisle.

"Hey Kookie?" Taehyung leans in and whisper. "Its not too late you know," he grins. Jungkook looks at him, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N. She said no," he smiles. "She said no to my proposal,"

////

"Stop whatever the hell you are doing!" Jungkook yells out at Y/N who is climbing up the bus.

"J-jungkook? What are you doing here?"

Jungkook rushed over and pull her down and signal the driver to drive away after slipping him some cash. "You are just going to leave? You are just goimg to bail on Adora's wedding?!"

"Jungkook," she sighed. "Im just the maid. I didnt think I was even invited. Afterall, I really dont want to be there,"

"Fine. But I'm sorry, I cant let you leave," Jungkook grab her bag and start walking to his car thats parked nearby, hoping Y/N will follow, which she did.

"Jungkook, stop! Give me back my bag! What is wrong with you?! What else do you want from me?!" Y/N is frustrated. He made her miss the bus now she have to spend more money to buy another ticket, something she dont have a lot of.

"What else I want from you?!" Jungkook frowns and turns around, his face serious. "I want you to stay! I dont want you to leave!"

"Why?!" Y/N screamed. "Isnt this what you want? For a maid to no longer bothers you and your friends? Just give me back my bag and leave me alone!"

"You dont know what I want Y/N..." he growls.

"Fine! Then what the hell do you want?!" Y/N never cursed but shes done being nice.

"I want you to marry me,"

"See? You only care about yourself you selfish jerk! Yo- wait, what?" Y/N's eyes widen, finally realizing what he said. Jungkook grins.

"Done yelling at your future husband?" He laughs and closes the gap between them. "I love you Y/N. I made a mistake. A real stupid mistake. And I realized that a little too late. You make the richest man I could ever be, and without you, I am nothing. I am the saddest, poorest man ever lived. But Y/N, marry me and let me spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, making you the happiest woman alive, just as happy as you made me. Please?" He showed her his innocent doe eyes, making Y/N laugh through her tears.

"I-is this for real?"

"Its as real as it can get baby. You dont have to forgive me baby. But please, just marry me,"

"Adora?"

"Oh, lets just say, she totally approved of us," Jungkook winks. "So... is that a yes?"

"Hmmm... what was the question again?"

Jungkook laughs and kneels down, taking out a box from his pocket that housed the biggest and most beautiful diamond Y/N has ever seen.

"L/N Y/N, will you marry me? Please?" Jungkook smile. And in the middle of a deserted bus stop, Y/N said the one word that will change her life forever.

"Yes,"

/////

Jungkook didnt even remember walking down to the end of the aisle. He didnt even remember seeing Adora walked down the aisle. After Taehyung's confession, that is all he can think about.

"Go,"

"Huh?"

"Go Kookie. Y/N is leaving today. Go find her. Now," she smiles.

"But Dora... what about-"

"Us?" Adora laughs. "Kookie, we will always be bestfriends. You know that. And how do you expect to spend the rest of your life with me when we cant even agree on what to have for dinner? Afterall, our families will still be the biggest empire, married to each other or not. Go get her Kookie, I'll handle our parents,"

"H-how about you?" Jungkook's brows furrowed.

"Lets just say," she looks behind him at Taehyung whos smiling back at her and smile, "the one month I spent with Tae to plan your happy ending with Y/N might lead to my own happy ending with my dream guy too," she winks.

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