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blueprint-han · 3 years

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on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line.

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

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The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕��💕💕💕

PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

#alice in borderland #danma takeru #hatter #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #aguni morizono #writings and such #this took so long omg but it’s DONE wow what a time what an adventure #listen. I just. we need more of them being actual buddies.#like. just guys being dudes.

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the-villian-i-seem-to-be · 3 years

Note

I have a request that you don't have to do if you don't want.

Would you write a yandere William and Sherlock from Yuukokou no Moriarty? Or are you not interested?

Damn! Yandere William and Yandere Sherlock!! Ok so both or separate? I'll do both!!

(Y/N) could feel themselves grow weary of the rising tension between her and Sherlock. You see, (Y/N) is a journalist who loves to write about Sherlocks cases in the newspaper. They always are accompanying him for cases with Dr. Watson, even if the detective dislikes her nosy attitude to his work life and personal life. But the journalist could tell he was warming up to her. Even if it was only.

Anyway, she decided to accompany Sherlock and Dr. Watson on another case. Though the doctor had caught the flu and had given her his train ticket to make sure Sherlock wouldn't cause trouble on one of his cases with Inspector Lestrade. So she agreed and three rode off to York for his case. Though it was a waste of time in detectives eyes once he couldn't find what he was looking for. He started spew a few curses under his breath once Mr. Lestrade went to get a newspaper.

Saying he'll come to the train car a bit later before it takes off. So the journalist and detective were alone on the boarding dock. Heading to their train. "Honestly, to hell with your death by illness. Get yourself killed, seriously.."

Sherlock utters with clear agitation in his voice. "Aw, c'mon detective Sherlock. It's okay, we can always come back and take another look around!" The (h/c)-nette smiles, hoping it would ease his worries.

Which didn't work because it seemed as if he grew more upset.

"I should of shot him when I could. If I had..."

(Y/N)'s knew he was talking about the Mr. Hope case. Though she never thought he should of killed him! "Sherlock-!" He cuts her off, "if I had killed I would have been one step closer to a huge mystery!"

"We both know that you would of done it if given the chance! You don't even care for the mystery, only the story that gets coverage!" "That isn't true!" The journalist hollars, making Sherlock turn quiet.

Sucking in a shaky breath, they try to speak more calmly. "I may go on your cases for a story. But I also care about the people in them. Sherlock, I don't want to write a article about you killing a man, and for what? A bigger mystery that you want to solve?"

"I.. I thought you weren't like that, I thought you actually seeked the truth, but not the way I hoped for." They say, sadly starring at the dark haired male in front of them. "I'll meet you in train car shortly, I-I, need a minute to calm my nerves." As the woman walks off, Sherlock scowls at his actions.

"That is-I didn't-" the male sighs and ruffles his hair. His mood and thoughts in a jumble. Pulling out a cigarette, he lights it up. Taking in the toxic fumes into his lungs to calm himself and clear his head.

(Y/N) finds herself siting in the food car, she rather be on her lonsome than deal with a unpleasant Sherlock. He was acting childish and locked her out of their shared car. So she decided to wait for his anger to subsidize. Though they were growing antsy and they needed to talk this out with Sherlock. She didn't want their supposed "one sided friendship" to end!? He let her try his cigarette once.

Only after, thought she was dying after taking a puff of the cancer stick and he laughed at her. Not only that, but she was given the privilege to hear him play the violin once before he kicked her out of his house for bothering him! Sighing, she felt her pumped up spirit slowly fading into a husk.

"Enough sulking, get a grip!" She sits up and slaps her cheeks. Frightening the waiter that waited for her to make her order. "M-miss are you alright?" Turning her eyes to the waiter with determination, she nods. Telling the waiter she wasn't ready to order yet.

Getting out of her seat, she was about to head over to Sherlock. Though her eyes find a familiar blond headed man sitting in one of the booths a little farther from her's.

Stepping cautiously to his booth, she holds her head up high an stands in front of him. "Mr. Professor Moriarty..?" The blonde male looks up from his empty dish and his red rubies stare at her with confusion and another emotion she couldn't quite place. "Mr. Professor! It truly is you!"

"My god, how are you? It's been quite awhile since I saw you." The mathematician smiles at her, "yes, hello Ms. (Y/N), I am well. How are you?"

The woman smiles gleefully, "yes I have-!" She held back her tongue as the memories with Sherlock resurface. Yet her smile stayed stuck to her lips. "Uh.. I should go. I don't want to over stay my welcome-" "there's no need for you to leave just yet. Me and my brother were getting quite bored. Please sit awhile, it will be nice to talk once more."

Mr. Moriarty says politely, letting her join them. The Journalist tries to force herself to decline, yet, she may never take this opportunity to sit to a nobleman as interesting as him ever again. She couldn't miss her chance! She can just make some small chit chat then run off after to talk to Sherlock! Genius!

"Alright.. But not for long, I need to talk with a friend of mine after." "A friend?" The second oldest Moriarty questions, his tone slightly cold. (Y/N) doesn't bother to notice his tone and sits down next to Williams brother. "Yes, I came here with a friend, well, in my opinion. I'm pretty sure he hates my guts now, but he's still a close companion of mine" (Y/N) chuckles dryly.

"I, see. I hope the two of you are, well." He replies stiffly, hiding a unhappy look with a smile. Though his observant brother could tell that he was slowly growing annoyed by her words.

"If you do mind me asking, but how do you know of my brother Ms. (Y/N)?" Louis asks her, her focus shifts to the male next to her.

Her eyes light up at Louis. "Ah, we met on the Noahtic. I was covering a story about a performance that was going to be held on it. I met Mr. Moriarty at a small gathering held on the ship floors. I offered him a drink and the two of us chatted for awhile." (Y/N) said with sheepish grin.

"Then I heard a murder had occured durring the performance. I was so shocked yet, forgive me for saying this, but thrilled! This was something that needed to be shown to the public- oh um, forgive me for blabbering!" (Y/N) blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand to stop herself.

William just chuckles at her, shaking his head. "It's quite alright. I didn't know you were so passionate about your job. I find it very endearing and admirable." (Y/N) flushed from his compliments, letting her hand fall to her lap as she gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you, Professor Moriarty. That's very kind of you."

Before William could say another word, Inspector Lestrade walks up to the booth. "(L/N)?" Looking up to see who had called her, she sees the Inspector. Quickly getting up from her seat, she greets him awkwardly.

"Is this the man you said that "hates your guts" ?" William questions, though his eyes don't glare at him. "NO, NO, NO, NO!" Flailing her hands around, she tries to clear up the misunderstanding. "I was joking!"

"Mr. Lestrade doesn't hate me! I was talking about someone else! Not him!!" The journalist cries out, the Inspector sighs and shakes his head.

"I apologize for my acquaintance, Mr..?" "Oh, this is Professor Moriarty! And the one sitting across from is his brother." (Y/N) introduces them to Mr. Lestrade like nothing had ever happened. Or at least pretending too.

"Professor Moriarty and Mr. Moriarty, this is Inspector Lestrade. He's another good friend of mine. He works for the Scotland Yard. Pretty neat right?"

(Y/N) winks, doing small jazz hands to make his introduction a little interesting. "(Y/N), why aren't you with-" before the Inspector could finish his sentence. A shrill scream of woman was heard.

~°~

Running to source of the scream. (Y/N) follows behind the youngest Moriarty and Inspector Lestrade. She bumps into one of the passengers and apologizes. Not looking at who she bumped into.

(Y/N) could hear Sherlock and Professor Moriarty discus. Growing immensely curious, she wiggled her way through the two men. Walking up to Sherlock and

"What happened?!" She said, but mostly to Sherlock who arrived before her. Who was looking through a peep hole of one of the rooms inside the train car.

"Look for yourself." He remarks, stepping away from the peep hole. (Y/N) hesitates for a moment, though creates false courage to see what happened. But was then was stopped by Sherlocks hand on her shoulder.

He didn't stare at her in the eye like normally, instead her shirt. Confused, (Y/N) looks down, she regrets it soon after. There, on her shirt was fresh blood. Even some smeared on her hands. "What.."

All eyes focused solely on her, the air quiet as she was panicking inside her mind. "It seems we have a valuable prize in our game now to make things more interesting." William said to the shocked detective, who gave the noble man a twisted smirk. "I guess so, I don't plan on losing, Liam." A disturbing smile crawls onto the crime consultant.

"Neither do I."

(Okay, this ask went a LOT longer than expected. I wanted to make it shorter but a rush of creativity hit me because I was re-watching ep 10 of Yuukoku No Moriarty! And reading the manga!! Yes!! And I hope I made them very Yandere-ish.)

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #(y/n)#william james moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty sherlock #yuukoku no moriarty sherlock x reader

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unmanageable-day · 4 years

Text

By your side | 08

previously ➺ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | intermezzo 01 - 02 | 06 | intermezzo | 07

a/n : it’s been so long i knowww! i’d appreciate it a lot if you still bear with me and read this. comments and feedback are always warmly welcome. please do let me know if the link for the previous chapters is not working.

"Doyoung, you should help me. I'm your friend."

"So is Yeoreum," Doyoung scoffed, not even bothered to look at the taller guy sitting beside him, leaving the food in front of him untouched.

"Yes, but you could have at least asked her to sit with us," Johnny hissed, almost raising his voice.

Frowning, he kept looking at your direction which was seated two tables away from the boys. Usually in a company event like this, either Yerim, Mark, or Doyoung would initiate to tag a table for a bunch of you and your peers. That would include you, Johnny, Mark, Yerim, Doyoung, and Taeyong. If you or Johnny was running late, one of your friends would always save a seat to ensure you would be together. Today Johnny had to accept the bitter feeling having you away from him although it was not the first time anymore. Having you beside him apparently gave him confidence. It completed him. And he also liked that it always felt like that he could brag you and how you two were perfect for each other although no one really asked him about it.

"Johnny, seriously, give up. Don't you see that Jaehyun guy is always tailing her?" Taeyong quickly snapped. "Dude, get over it. She's with the dimple guy now."

"You don't know that," Johnny spat.

"What do you say, Mark?" Taeyong suddenly asked the youngest who can't hide his restlessness eyeing you and Jaehyun on the other table.

It was clear in Mark's mind that you were more than ready to move on. He wasn't gonna lie that Jaehyun did seem like a great guy and he would probably treat you better. If he didn't, you wouldn't look this happy.

A piercing glare from Johnny made the youngest even uneasy. "Uh, well, usually she would sit with us naturally if Yerim is here. But, uh.. Yerim and the other noonas had tagged another table." Mark and his confusing answer. However Taeyong and Doyoung actually caught the hints. The girls simply didn't want you to be close with Johnny. Frankly speaking, Mark, Taeyong and Doyoung caught moments when the girls warmly welcomed you who just arrived with Jaehyun walking shyly behind you. They also witnessed how Sooyoung spared two seats for you and Jaehyun, as if Jaehyun's presence had been expected.

Fuck it.

Johnny braced himself to chase you right after the company dinner finished. He knew you would disappear quickly because you wouldn't bother to stay longer for a second round to drink or for a casual chit-chat. The only thing he had to ensure was that none of Taeyong and Doyoung were to catch him approaching you. He managed to make up excuses to grab something from his car and sneaked his way out to the exit door. The company dinner would officially end in 10 minutes. He would just wait there, since he was very sure you would be the first one to come out of the ballroom.

Good thing that he got to take a can of beer he stored in his car while waiting for you. Leaning on the wall beside the exit door, he took a sip of his drink. A frustrated sigh escaped his mouth. He was upset to hear his bestfriends telling him to give up on you. He was upset to see you starting to develop something with Jaehyun. Something that could have been with him if he wasn't too selfish.

Chattering started to be heard approaching the exit. Johnny quickly finished his beer, wiped his mouth with his long sleeves—an unusual behavior of him who was extraordinarily particular about his clothes, which could be a sign that he couldn't care less about anything but you. Just like he expected, you were the first to come out. And as expected as well, Jaehyun was behind you.

Johnny called your name gently. He wore his softest smile, trying to read your face which honestly looked unfazed.

"What are you doing here outside?" you asked.

"Waiting for you," he cautiously answered, slightly eyeing Jaehyun who was like your guard dog. "There is something I want to talk to you."

"Like right now?" You didn't sound happy, excited, or even agree to have a talk with him.

"Tomorrow afternoon? Maybe we could go out for lunch first. You remember that restaurant you've always wanted to try? The owner is apparently Sehun's friend and he—"

"How about I'll meet you somewhere after lunch?" you interrupted him. You felt bad actually for cutting him speaking like that. It was just now you were not into small talks and cutesy gimmicks; you'd rather be straight forward with anything.

Johnny's mouth was half open as he was flustered to be interrupted earlier. He quickly snapped himself mentally to get it together. "Sure, no problem." He still tried to sound cheerful and excited.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow?" You flashed him a polite smile.

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow."

You waved at him, Jaehyun beside you also bowed his head lightly as a good bye greeting. There you went away, your steps matched Jaehyun's pace. Or, now that Johnny paid attention, he noticed Jaehyun was the one who matched your walking pace.

"John.." Mark's voice startled him.

Johnny's eyes quickly searched for Taeyong or Doyoung's presence.

"Oh, the hyungs are still inside with Miss Lee," told Mark, as if he could read Johnny's mind.

"Don't tell the others I just spoke to Yeoreum."

—

"Do you want me to go with you?" Jaehyun offered as both of you hopped into his car.

You chuckled at him. "You mean meeting with Johnny tomorrow? Why?"

"Just because." He showed off his dorky grin whenever he couldn't think of good answers.

"I'll be fine. Thanks for asking though."

"Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" he offered again.

You chuckled again. "Why? You don't have to, Jaehyun."

"But I want to," he said shyly. "Anyway, I'm going out with Mingyu and Dokyeom for brunch. After that I can get you."

Your lips pursed then turned into a sheepish smile. "Do as you wish then.”

—

the next day

Johnny was restless waiting for you at the bench he usually sat on after his routine of morning jogging. He kept convincing himself that nothing was going on between you and Jung Jaehyun. People say we tend to believe what we want to believe. And this is exactly what Johnny did. He wanted to believe that you and Jaehyun were just friends, who was on the same level like Jungkook. That type of friend who was one-call away. That type of friend who you would always come to first.

Let’s not ruin anything today, John, he spoke to himself.

He drew a big smile as he noticed your presence from a far distance. The fact that you were coming alone actually calmed him down a little. He was anxious thinking that you might bring Jaehyun along.

"Did I make you wait?" you greeted as you sat down beside him.

Johnny shook. "The weather is nice today. It makes me want to lie on the grass, showered with the sun ray."

You smiled, not responding a word to him. "So, what is it you want to talk about?"

Johnny took a deep breath. "Yeoreum, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What did you like about ...us? About our relationship?"

Unable to answer him right away, you diverted your eyes to enjoy the view of your favorite park by the river. The place you often visited alone. The place you usually had picnic with Johnny and friends. The place you wished you could have come to with Johnny more—much more often, just the two of you. The place where Johnny officially broke up with you couple months ago.

"I'll answer first," Johnny said again. "I liked that we never fought. We never disagree over something. We never argue with such a tension. I liked that we were very peaceful."

You smiled sincerely at his answer. "You're right. I liked that too."

"Is there anything else?"

"Well, if I have to say, everything was nice because it was you, Johnny." You exhaled. Your mind was reminiscing the good old days with the ex-boyfriend. Sometimes you did wonder when and how everything started to change.

Johnny smiled at your answer too. His heart was filled with warmth, quite enough to heal his mental from self-abuse he did for breaking up with you. "Is there..." he continued, with his voice crack; a sign that he was nervous. "Is there anything you dislike about us? About me?"

You smiled again. "Why should I?" you said as you chuckled lightly. "You are such a sweet, gentle, caring, kind and lovable man, Johnny."

That was the first time ever Johnny received such sweet words from you. Basically you never expressed your feeling verbally to him. It was embarrassing when you thought about it as you can't help cringing to yourself. But you meant what you said. "Sorry I only get to say that now. I should have done that more often back then," you continued, chuckling to yourself.

"You shouldn't be the one to be sorry," he mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"I fucked up, Yeoreum. And I'm the last person to know that I did."

"You're talking non-sense, Johnny."

"Yeoreum, you always say you're okay, everything is fine, and no worries."

"But everything is okay. I'm fine, you're fine. We are fine, Johnny."

"Maybe we are, now. But we were certainly not. If I didn't fuck up, we wouldn't have ended up like this."

"But you were not happy. Maybe it was my fault. I'd hate it even more if we stayed together yet you had to bear with me." You inhaled, tightening your grip with your own hands, fingers tightly intertwined. "I mean, you're certainly not the first one to experience this whole relationship thing with me. And, yeah, I get that a lot. Lacking of presence. Not showing enough affection. Like I'm in my own world. So, don't feel bad." You managed to chuckle, remembering the words you often heard whenever you were seeing someone.

"Don't say that. It was my fault that I thought I was the one trying. I was the one to blame because I wasn't thoughtful enough to understand you." He sighed deeply before continuing. "Yeoreum, why can't you just say it loudly if you feel uncomfortable and tired and just have enough of everything? Why can't you be more selfish? Why can't you say no when I did all those PDA stuff? Why didn't you ever tell me that you didn't like going to parties? Why didn't you ever say that you were exhausted?" Johnny cried. "Because of that, I thought everything was okay. That's why I just made you come along with me, without even knowing that you were exhausted."

"Ah, about PDA.. I just find it embarrassing to be kissed and being lovey dovey in front of others. But anyway.." You shrugged, trying to cool down the rapid heat from blushing over your cheeks. "It was true my energy was drained, I was tired because of those parties I never attended before I dated you. But I just, sort of did it for you. Because I liked you, I liked your friends. I had no other reason." You reached his big hands and squeezed them. "And I mean it when I said I had fun meeting your friends. If I didn't, I wouldn't have stayed being friends with those chaotic guys of yours. Maybe you don't know this but lately I often go hiking with Yuta and Winwin."

Johnny gripped back your small hands and gave them light squeeze. "Do you think I could have one more chance with you?"

You were taken aback. You were still surprised despite you already anticipated this. Yet you still hadn't made up your mind. You never prepared any answer if Johnny ever asked you to get back together.

Yes, you liked him. Yet you were not even sure if that feeling was more in the romantic way, or just merely like him as friends. At the moment you were enjoying the feeling to be free and busy with yourself. The fact he'd ever said you were just physically present was actually disturbing you sometimes, but you had decided to shrug it off. While the devil side of you who was allies with your friends, kept saying that Johnny didn't appreciate you enough after those parties you attended since you were his girlfriend after all. It was unfair, the devil continued, that you loved him unconditionally as the big reason was literally 'because it was him' but what had he done?

And recently you just started to feel comfortable with Jaehyun around, especially that Jungkook tirelessly kept on giving you hints about his dear friend.

"Do you think you could give me some time to think about it, Johnny?" you asked as you pulled away your hands, releasing them from Johnny's warm grip.

He smiled bitterly. "As long as you need." It looked like he had to prepare for the worst, while still encouraging himself to hope for the best.

"Thank you." You turned to look at the river again. "It still feels nice to be here with you, Johnny. It's as if nothing changes." You paused, inhaled, exhaled, then continued, "... but us."

Johnny's heart somewhat broke to hear that. He couldn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Anyway, I have to go now." You stood up first, followed by him. "See you when I see you?"

Johnny nodded as he had no choice. He wanted to ask you to stay for a while. But it didn't seem like you would say yes. In the end, Johnny said nothing at all. His mind felt like a tangled wire, it hurt him. He watched you taking steps away from him. But after a few steps, you turned your back with a slight smile, making his face bright again. Just when his lips were about to curve a smile with full of hopes, the words came out of your mouth instead messed up with his vulnerable heart, shattering all the hopes he had gathered.

"Johnny, you don't have to wait for me, okay?" you said softly, a little smile curved your lips.

Does that mean you might not come back?

Yesterday Mark literally just told him this. You might never come back. He gulped, gritting his teeth with such a force. His brows were furrowing, the quivering eyes started getting teary that he had to look upwards to prevent the tears escaping from his eyes.

'Hyung, what do you think if Summer noona had found someone else?'

'I don't even want to think about it.'

'But what if she's happier if she's with that someone else?'

'I said I don't want to think about it. I don't even want to imagine things.'

‘Hyung, I think you have to let her go already.'

'Why? Why should I?'

'Honestly.. I just, think, maybe you should try, just a little bit,' Mark stuttered.

'You can't tell me what to do, Mark. Or is there something you want to tell me?'

'No, but...' Mark paused. His brain was working hard to arrange good words. 'But you never know if she will come back to you. I mean, it's been months..'

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct au #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct johnny #nct jaehyun #johnny imagines #jaehyun imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #nct 127 imagines

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iamjustyouraveragefander · 5 years

Note

Could I ask one of Dignified prince logan of (insert kingdom) being grabbed and pulled into a dance by trashy , Younger brother of his royal friend Roman, Remus duke of (insert kingdom). And as soon as they start dancing the waltz turns into a Salsa dance music,, they knew eachother for a bit but this is first time logan's really "interacted" with remus They quickly dance and remus is having a blast while logan is a secret disaster gay and Roman was the one who gave remus the confidence to 1/2

Here you are!

I’m a big sucker for Platonic Roceit, but it can also be up to interpretation! So, if you want, you can read it as Romantic!

Also, Deceit’s name is Damian, cause I thought it was fitting.

Also, sorry for the really long wait!

Word Count: 3,261

Logan couldn’t help but sigh as he gently slid a book back into its proper place on the shelf.

“Why so glum, young majesty?” Patton asked from his seat at one of the library tables, pausing his writing to swiftly dab more ink onto the quill, “Is it the royal ball?” he inquired, continuing on with his notes.

The young prince replied with a small hum, gaze remaining on the various books littering the shelf, “I thought I told you to address me by my name?”

“Well, you did, but the King—”

“Patton, we’ve been companions since we were children, I don’t care what my father says, call me by my name,” his voice held a hint of authority to it, with a side of annoyance. He didn’t like the constant reminder of his royal status, and one less person referring to him as a high title made it easier to forget.

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy his life in the castle. He rather liked learning new things, and conversing with the staff, but the idea that he would be forced into marriage shortly after his upcoming birthday made his stomach sink. He knew he had to marry and bring in the next generation to take his place, but the idea of being with a woman made him… uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Logan,” Patton tried again, offering a small smile towards his friend, “Are you upset about the upcoming ball?” he asked, gently placing down his quill and standing up from his seat, stretching out his arms, “Because if you are, why don’t you just skip it?”

“You know I can’t do that,” Logan finally turned his focus to Patton, “And, I’m just worried, is all,” he explained, “You know of my dislike for…” he trailed off, making a small gesture with his hand, fearing that if he said the word out loud someone might hear and tell his father.

“Ah, well,” Patton came a little closer, lowering his voice so only Logan could hear, “If it makes you feel better, a little birdie told me—”

“Bird’s can’t talk.”

“—that two very handsome, young princes will be attending the event, at your father’s request,” he chirped in a sing-song voice.

“Really?” Logan inquired, raising an eyebrow curiously, “Would they be from the Cican Empire?”

“Mhm,” Patton nodded in reply, a wide smile on his face, “You remember them, don’t you?” he asked.

Logan did, in fact. He had been very isolated during his younger years, always studying in his room or the library, but that hadn’t stopped him from meeting Roman. He was a bit of an adventurous type, and had stumbled upon Logan in the library, where his parents had shoo’d him off to. The first thing Roman had said—more so demanded—to him was, “Be thy enemy or thy friend, handsome, young bookworm?” as he held up a wooden sword in front of him. And the first thing Logan had replied with was, “Did you just call me a ‘handsome bookworm?’”

Long story short, the result ended with the two princes becoming close friends.

“So,” Patton rocked back and fourth on his heels, “Are you less worried?” he was still smiling, waiting for the prince’s response.

“Well,” Logan thought over his options, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and closing his eyes, “I suppose…” he slowly replied, opening his eyes and offering the faintest of smiles towards Patton, “It would be nice to see Roman again, and finally be introduced to his twin brother,” he stated finally.

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot about him!”

————

“Logan!”

A loud yelp escaped Logan’s lungs as he felt someone wrap their arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

“How have you been, my dear friend?” Roman asked, a wide grin on his face as he rested his chin on Logan’s shoulder.

“I though I told you not to sneak up on me like that?” Logan replied flatly, shooting a glare at his friend with mild annoyance.

“I couldn’t help it! I’ve missed you an endless amount!” the adventures prince chirped, briefly tightening his hold on Logan before releasing him from the hug, adjusting his position so he was standing in front of Logan, “So, how have you been?” Roman repeated the question, still smiling wide, “I read in your letters you’ve been thinking of writing a book! Will there be any dashing young heroes? If you need an example, I’d be happy to volunteer,” he rambled excitedly, practically bouncing up and down as the two began their walk down the hallway towards the ballroom.

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at Roman’s excitement, shaking his head in amusement, “I wasn’t planning to write a fairy tale,” he explained, gaze briefly glancing around to take note of the lack of company, “It would be a factual book, possibly about the history of our kingdoms.”

“But that sounds so boring,” Roman groaned, sulking his shoulders, “Why not write something fun? Like our adventures we had around the castle?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure people would enjoy reading about two young princes almost setting the kitchen on fire because they were attempting to bake a cake, nearly breaking a vase because someone’s wooden sword slipped form their hand, and practically destroying the entirety of the garden because they tried to use magic unsupervised.”

“Exactly!” Roman exclaimed, missing the sarcasm that was held in Logan’s voice, “‘The Adventures of Prince Roman and Prince Logan—featuring Patton and Virgil,’” he was practically beaming at the idea.

Logan smiled sadly at the memories, “My father would disapprove of such a book,” he quietly muttered, “Where is your brother and your adviser?” he asked, quickly changing the topic.

Roman gave a small shrug in response, “Probably still in the ballroom,” he replied simply, “I abandoned them to search for you, cause I wanted to have you to myself for at least a bit,” he explained.

“Ah,” Logan nodded in understanding, “Makes since, we haven’t seen each other in person for—”

“Two full years!” Roman chimed in, grabbing hold of Logan’s hand and tugging him along as he quickened his pace, “But now I can finally introduce you to my brother! I think you’ll like him!” he exclaimed, offering the bookish prince a wide smile.

Logan sighed, unable to stop the smile from resting on his face. It would definitely be interesting to meet with the unnamed brother. He silently wondered what he was like, possibly like Roman? Was he just as creative and adventurous? Was his smile just as bright?

A million questions filled Logan’s head the longer he waited for Roman to introduce him to his older twin—“Just by fourteen seconds!” Roman had told him one day, unable to keep from sulking at the thought of being the youngest of the pair.

————

A cool breeze tussled Remus’ hair as he watched the crowed of people interacting with one another, some sharing dances, others stuffing their faces with wine and food. He couldn’t help the annoyed sigh that left him as he leaned back against the railing of the balcony, “This is absolutely ridiculous,” he muttered, tugging at his too tight collar, “Why did I even have to wear this stupid thing? I have much more comfortable clothes than this!”

“You’re just bitter because Roman abandoned you to hang out with a cute boy,” Damian replied by Remus’ side, an amused smirk playing on his face.

The duke continued to loosen his tie, even if he knew he’d end up being lectured by his parents if they saw he’d ruined his outfit, once again, “Maybe…” he muttered, gently digging his heel into the floor.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry, too much,” the adviser reassured, “He’ll be back once he find’s Logan.”

“You know this, how?”

Damian simply shrugged, as if the answer was obvious, “He told me.”

Remus gave a small hum in reply, “We probably shouldn’t have moved from our original spot then, huh?”

“No, probably not, but it’s too late now.”

————

Roman gently opened the door, the quiet of the hallway immediately being shattered by the endless chit chat, soft music, and clinking of glass. He slowly lead Logan through the crowed, gaze frantically searching for where his brother and adviser had gone off to.

Logan absentmindedly tightened his hold on his friend’s hand, fear creeping up on him. He didn’t mind Roman holding his hand, but he knew his father would. “When were you going to tell me you were having a secret relationship with another man? Prince Roman, no less!” is what his father would probably say, only for Logan to try and explain they weren’t in a romantic relationship, just very close friends.

“Where in the world…” Roman quietly muttered, finally sighing in frustration, “Okay, how about this,” he quickly pulled Logan over by the food table, releasing his hand, only to place both on his shoulders and adjust his standing position, “Stay here, and I’ll go find them,” he offered one last smile before disappearing into the sea of people.

“Oh, hey, L,” came a familiar voice.

Logan turned his head in the direction the voice had come from, finding Virgil was approaching him, a tray stacked with wine in his hand. He smiled, giving a light wave, “I thought you weren’t aloud to be around alcohol,” he noted, gaze flicking to the plate, “Your mother would be very disappointed,” he teased.

“It’s grape juice,” Virgil corrected, gently nudge the prince in the arm with his elbow, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, my apologies, then.”

There was a pause as the two stared at each other, only to quietly start laughing at their interaction, both taking some comfort in the familiar presence.

“So, what brings you to the food table?” Virgil asked, a curious look in his eyes, “Princey abandon you for a cute boy?”

“Not exactly,” Logan took one of the glasses off the try, taking a drink from it, “He’s introducing me to his brother,” he explained.

“Oh, Gods,” Virgil muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

Virgil shook his head, “Nothing, it’s just…” he trailed off, gaze fixed on the crowd of people, “He’s a bit… eccentric, to say the least.”

The statement made something in Logan shift, his questions from earlier returning. What in the world was he expecting from this brother? Virgil seemed unsettled by the mention of him, was that because they shared a previous history that Logan wasn’t aware of?

“Lo-o-ogan!” Romans’ sing-song voice cut through his thoughts, “I have a Duke for you to meet!”

At the mention of Roman’s brother, Virgil quickly made himself scarce, wishing Logan luck as he disappeared back into the bundle of people.

Logan’s eyes locked onto the very messy attire being worn by the Duke. His tie hung lose around his neck, his two top buttons on his shirt were undone, he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and half his shirt was tucked in, while the other was pulled out. In short, he was an absolute disaster compared to Roman, and anyone else in the room, really.

“This is my dear brother,” Roman gestured to the walking disaster, “Remus, a Duke,” he turned to Remus, gesturing to his friend, “Remus, this is Logan, the friend I was telling you so much about,” he explained.

Remus seemed to do a quick once over of Logan’s outfit, offering a lopsided grin and extending his hand, “Nice ta meet ya, Glasses,” he greeted.

“Uh…” Logan had to do a double take. This had been the second time in his life someone had greeted him so unprofessionally, “Did you just call me, ‘Glasses?’” he asked, slowly shaking the hand that had been extended to him.

“Yep!” Remus replied, “Not a huge fan of all that ‘your majesty,’ business. I find it rather stiff, if you ask me,” he rambled, “I mean, why can’t you just talk to someone like a normal person, ya know?”

“Eh, right…” Logan’s brain was still trying to catch up. He hadn’t expected Remus to be exactly like Roman, but this? He was so… different.

Roman smile wide, clasping his hands together, “Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone for a bit,” he chirped, flicking his gaze between the pair, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright!” he practically sang as he skipped off to who knows where.

The prince and duke were left facing each other, a sort of awkwardness in the air as both tried to think of something they could add to the conversation.

“Uh, so,” Logan cleared his throat, gesturing to the unkept outfit, “Your parents let you come here dressed like that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t necessarily mind Remus’ outfit—if he wished to wear it, how did Logan have any right to stop him?—but surely his father would, and the last think Logan wanted was to be lectured about the type of company he kept with him.

“Oh, Gods, no,” Remus replied in amusement, “I did this to make myself more comfortable,” his eyes briefly did a once over of Logan’s outfit for the second time, “I mean, wearing a suit for almost eight to nine hours can’t be that comfortable.”

“Well, what do you normally wear when you go out?” Logan huffed, briefly adjusting his tie.

“Easy, I don’t!” Remus chimed, grin still wide, “Most of the time my parents keep me at home because of how much of a disappointment I am, but what can you do,” he gave a small shrug, his smile unwavering.

Logan blinked, staring at the duke with some surprise that he had spoken the way he did. It had come out out of his mouth with such ease, “They’re disappointed in you…?” Logan slowly asked, unsure of where-else to take the conversation.

“Mhm,” Remus nodded in reply, “In fact, the only reason they let me out of the castle tonight is because Roman insisted,” he briefly turned his head towards the various guests dancing in pairs.

Logan wasn’t sure how to respond. This walking disaster had many similarities to Roman, which didn’t come off as too much of a surprise, but the fact that he seemed to speak with no filter was something the prince hadn’t been expecting, nor that he spoke about his parents disapproval with no care in the world, like their opinions didn’t matter to him.

“Do you want to dance?” Remus suddenly asked, turning his focus back to Logan, a small smile on his face, softer than the grin he had previously been wearing, “Unless your daddy think’s you’re too prim and proper to be seen dancing with a mess like me,” he teased, the wide grin from earlier returning across his face—and did he just wink?

“I—” Logan sputtered, hating the way his face flushed in embarrassment, “For your information, I am fully capable of making my own decisions!” he snapped, crossing his arms and shooting a hard glare at the duke, “My father doesn’t dictate my choices!”

“So, you will dance with me?”

“Sure!” Logan declared, only to pause shortly after as the realization of what he just said sank in, eyes widening in horror, Wait, what?

“Great!” Remus exclaimed, quickly grabbing Logan’s arm and dragging him towards the dance floor, “This is going to be fun!”

“Wait, at least let me put down my drink–!”

————

At first, Logan was practically being lugged around by the duke, who seemed to make his movements flow in a certain way that was difficult for the prince to match. He even took to blinking Morse Code in Roman’s direction, who was pretending to ignore him in favor of talking with Damian.

Something else he was worried about was the whispering among the guests. It was faint, and barely noticeable, but he could still hear the little inquiries—“Why is the Prince of Worene dancing with someone so distasteful?”, “The prince is dancing with another man?”, “Isn’t that the Duke of Cican? What’s he doing with the prince?” “That’s the Duke? I expected far better.”

The endless questions being thrown around the room caused Logan’s stomach to churn uneasily. His father—what would he think if he saw his own son dancing with a man? Surely he would disprove!

“Someone is distracted,” Remus practically sang as he glided along the marble floor, briefly tightening his hold on Logan so he didn’t drop him as he dipped the prince, “Am I not good enough entertainment?”

Logan didn’t respond, gaze locking with Remus’, the light dancing off of him in just the right way. He really was a beautiful sight to see, and had the duke not shifted out of their position just as quickly as he put them in it, Logan would have probably ended up kissing him, which was absolutely absurd. He only just met him after all.

————

“Is he blinking in Morse Code?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Logan being glided across the dance floor by Remus.

“Yep,” Roman replied, an amused smile on his face, “He truly is a gay disaster,” the prince hummed.

Damian nodded in agreement, shooting a glance at Roman, “Like someone else I know,” he smirked, gently nudging Roman in the arm with his elbow.

“Psh,” Roman quickly reasoned, blowing a raspberry, “Since when am I the disaster?” he huffed, crossing his arms defensively, “Last I checked, Logan was the gay disaster!”

“If he’s the disaster gay, what does that make you?”

“The fabulous gay, obviously.”

A snort left Damian as he cupped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, “You are an idiot.”

“A handsome idiot,” Roman corrected, joining Damian in his laughter.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll give you that,” the adviser replied. His face slowly turned into one of seriousness, gaze watching Logan loosen up and slowly join Remus in the flow of the music, “It’s a shame your parents keep him sheltered, but I’m not surprised,” he commented, catching the faintest of smiles on Logan’s face. He smiled at the pair, “Remus is an uncontrollable child at heart, even now that he’s practically an adult.”

Roman let out a light laugh, “Yeah…” he muttered, turning his head in the direction his adviser was looking in, his gaze soft, “Logan will be good for Remus,” he quietly stated, “Just like Remus will be good for Logan.”

Damian nodded in agreement, a comfortable silence settling between the prince and adviser.

————

“I will admit,” Logan began as he stepped along to the beat of music with Remus, doing his best to keep his smile at bay, “This is rather fun.”

The duke grinned in response, “Is that so, Specs?” he hummed, pausing their dance, coming a little closer, “Maybe we should do this more often, then,” his gaze was gentle, his hold on Logan loosening slightly.

Logan felt his heart rate skyrocket, face turning a dark red. His flight reflex kicked in, causing him to let out a loud yelp–turning who knows how many heads–and trip over his own feet in an attempt to back away. His grip held tight on Remus and he ended up bringing the Duke down with him as they fell to the ground, causing an audible thud to echo through the suddenly quiet ballroom.

Various party guests were quick to assets the two royals back to their feet, questioning if they were all right.

Logan silently prayed that his parents hadn’t witness the almost-kiss he had with Remus. If they had, his life would, no doubt, be completely ruined.

His parents did, however, witness it, and both of them dealt with the situation accordingly.

“You owe me ten silver,” the queen state, holding out her hand towards her husband.

“Hang on, I bet that Logan would declare his love for Roman, and–“

“I bet he would fall for another man, which he did,” the queen cut her husband short, a small smile playing on her face, “That’s the duke, dear, not the prince.”

The king scoffed, pulling ten silver from his pocket and handing it off to his wife, “Alright, alright, I know when I’ve lost,” he muttered dejectedly, “Lousy bet, if you ask me.”

Intrulogical Tag List:

I apologize in advance if I forgot to tag anyone that asked or if your tag didn’t work!

If you’d like to be added, just ask!

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #intrulogical #roceit #fanfiction #ask #ask answered

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adventuresofninnaly · 5 years

Text

The adventure begins!

Ninnaly woke up in cold sweat. Nightmares again, this time about a giant, black dragon attacking Helgen. Why Helgen? Why Dragons?! There haven’t been any dragons in centuries, if there were any to being with! Only stories for children.

She noticed the sun had start to rise, so she sat up in the bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, stretched her stiff body and yawning. She grabbed her worktunic and headed out of her bedroom, and down the stairs. She threw some firewood on the firepit, and casted a simple fire-spell on it. “Being raised by a former battle-mage surely had it’s perks.” Ninnaly said quietly with a slight smile on her lips. She sat down and started heating some water for her tea and grabbed a piece of bread. “I will try to remember buying some food later, before I go home from work” she thought. “but knowing myself, I’ll probably forget.”.

Ninnaly sighed and dropped down some lavender, a few juniper berries cut in half and a few drops of honey in her cup and poured some water on top. She started thinking back to her time in Helgen. She hadn’t been there in four years, since she first arrived in Skyrim. The innkeeper Vilod was nice enough to let her stay for as long as she needed, in exchange for helping him with his inn. It was Vilod who had teached her how to make the Lavender and Juniper berry tea. The honey was her own idea, being a sucker for all things sweet. Well, almost everything. She disliked sweetrolls. They looked weird, and was too sweet. Taking a sip of her tea and relaxed a bit in her chair.

“I should take a week and go visit old Vilod” She thought. “Would be a nice surprise for the old fool”. Taking a sip of the tea. “But that will have to wait until next month. I have to travel to Falkreath and deliver some alchemy ingredients to ‘Grave Concoctions’.” she exhaled and took a big gulp from the cup. “After that, I should have enough coin to buy myself a horse. Which will make my job so much easier, and I can carry a greater shipment”.

She sat down the now empty cup, took her waterskin, coinpurse and headed out. She was greeted by an amazing weather, for once it wasn’t freezing cold and raining. The birds chirped and the town had started to move. Adrianne had already started to hammer away at some order from the Imperial Legion. The children of Whiterun was already running around and playing tag. A great day, with other words.

Ninnaly headed to Arcadia’s Cauldron, grabbed the supplies and headed towards the gate. The pouch was fairly lightweight for once. Unlike that time she had accepted a request to pick up a shipment for Adrianne last month, down in Riverwood. Adrianne had forgot to mention that Ninnaly was supposed to bring Ulfberth with her, for the extra muscle. Oh well. At least now on the way back from Falkreath she could maybe get a foot in the newly opened shop in Riverwood and get a customer there too.

The trip to Falkreath was awfully uneventful, only a small fight between the Legion and the Stormcloaks. Ninnaly helped heal the wounded Imperial soldiers after the battle had ended. Ninnaly, being a half-elf, she didn’t sympathize much with Ulfric and his thugs. The leader of the small group asked if she wanted to join the Legion, but answered that she didn’t quiet make the cut. Ninnaly was both skilled in swordsmanship and spellcasting, but not enough at the time. The captain said he would recommend her, which may give her some extra leverage. After healing the troops and sharing a meal and some stories, the captain asked where Ninnaly was heading. “To Falkreath, gotta deliver a shipment.” “Is that so?” he said. “We were heading there ourselves, and as you probably can tell, that there are Stormcloaks in the area.” “Do you want company, miss?” He asked politely. “Yes, on the condition you don’t call me miss again.” Ninnaly responded teasingly. Together with the small band of Legionnaires, Ninnaly continued towards Falkreath. They continued to share stories, but keeping their guards up.

Arriving to Falkreath, the group of Legionnaires went their own way towards the Jarls keep. And Ninnaly went to ‘Grave Concoctions’. Delivering the goods. She was amazed of just how many kinds of poisons and deadly concoctions there actually is.

Happily leaving the ‘Grave Concoctions’ with a heavier coin purse, she went to the local inn, Dead Man’s Drink, to rent a room for the slowly approaching night, and get something to eat. A plate of potatoes, leek and a steak was laying in front of her, as someone approached her, and asked to join her at the table. “If you are here to flirt, you can go where you came from.” she said mockingly. “Oh no no no, I’m not interested in that!” the person said, “I’m Lucien Flavius. Scientist, philosopher, amateur wizard, and somewhat of a musician... but that’s more of a hobby, I guess.”. Lucien continued. “I am looking for someone to guide me through Skyrim. For academic purposes mainly, but the province of Skyrim is so fascinating! The flora and fauna. All the ruins, both Dwemer and Nordic. It’s architecture and politics.. “ He interrupted himself. “But, I’m not much of a fighter. I know a few spells, and can just about swing a sword. I would of course pay you, more than enough! That of course, is if you are willing to part ways with your current work. Pay would be no issue, I’m coming from a wealthy family in Cyrodiil, so gold is of no shortage.”.

Ninnaly sat quiet for a while, nibbling on her grilled leek. “I will do it. I don’t have any more orders as of now, and I certainly could enjoy some time on the roads!” She said. “And it would be a perfect opportunity to visit Vilod back in helgen. It’s only a days travel from here.” She thought for herself. “Splendid! Would 300 Septims upfront be enough for now?” Lucien said excitingly. Ninnaly almost chocking on her leek. “And compensate you for anything useful to my research.” He continued, waiting for her answer. “Y-yes, that would be enough.” She answered. “I’m Ninnaly, by the way.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lily! Let us get some rest for now and get on our way tomorrow!” “Wha.. No, Ninnaly.” She said, with a look of confusion on her face. “Don’t worry Lily! I just like giving people nicknames. Unless of course you have a problem with that.” Lucien said, with a hint of sadness in his voice. Ninnaly had never had a nickname. So she agreed to letting him call her Lily. Feeling a strange happiness about the ordeal she went into her rented room for some needed sleep. The following morning she stepped out into the main hall of inn and asked for some lavender tea and a piece of bread. “Good morning, Lily!” Lucien said happily upon seeing her entering the inn. “I have arranged a carriage to take us where ever we want to go. How does that sound?” “Sounds great, I’ll just eat breakfast and then we can travel to Whiterun. I need some things from my house, if that’s okay?” “Certainly! I have heard about the alchemy shop in Whiterun. I would like to visit it to buy some supplies, so that’s perfect.” Lucien said. After breakfast they left Falkreath for Whiterun. The trip was uneventful, it was spent getting to know each other better. Lucien came from a wonderful home in Cyrodiil, just as Ninnaly. So they were excited they had that in common. Arriving in Whiterun, Ninnaly was greeted with hugs by Lars Battle-Born and Mila Valentina. Her “best friends” according to themselves. “Hey guys, where’s Braith? She got in trouble again?” Ninnaly said with a smile, but also concern. “No, she’s sick. Just a cold, so she wanted to stay home today.” “I see, let me just get a few things, and meet me outside Braith’s okay?” Ninnaly smiled. “Friends of yours?” Lucien said with a smile on his lips. “My ‘best’ friends!” Ninnaly responded. “I usually play tag with them once a week. They really appreciate it. Most the adults are busy doing their work, and don’t have the time. But they like that someone can take their time to play with them.” “I see,” Lucien said. “so where do you live?” “Right here!” she said, unlocking the door to Breezehome. It had cost her a lot of Septims to buy it, and to add furniture to it. But it had been worth it. “I’m just going to get my sword and bow. Will you be a dear and take some lavender, a few juniper berries and the bottle of honey from the table in the back?” “Of course!” Lucien responded. “What is it for?” “It’s for Braith, one of the kids here in the town. A few snips of lavender, two juniper berries and a spoon of hone-” “For tea? Sounds awfully sweet if you ask me.” Lucian interrupted. “Yes, for tea. But it works wonders, and gets a sick child up on it’s feet in no time!” Ninnaly said while walking down the stairs. Now donning a short sword and a bow in her back. After exiting the house, Lucien was directed to ‘Arcadia’s Cauldron’ and Ninnaly went to Braith’s house. Saffir opened the door and greeted them. “Oh Ninnaly, how good to see you!” Saffir said, and gave her a quick hug. “Braith has gotten such a cold you could almost mistake her for a man!” she giggled. “I see. good thing I brought my miracle tea for her then!” Ninnaly answered.

After giving Braith the tea and some chit chat with Saffir, she headed out. Telling Lars and Mila to keep an eye on her house while she was away. Promising to bring them a gift in return.

Lucien stood by the gate and waited for her, and waved when he saw Ninnaly.

“All good? Is Braith okay?” He asked. “She will be. Just need to rest until tomorrow and she should be up in no time.” “Great! So, whereto now?” “Helgen.” Ninnaly said. “To Helgen we go.” -> Be sure to join in on the adventures of Ninnaly over at twitch to take part in her development, and decide her future!

*Edit: Corrected a few mistakes. cuz.. I’m a pepega.

#skyrim #adventure #roleplay #fictional literature #the elder scrolls #story #tes v skyrim #lucien flavius

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studiobeebo · 6 years

Note

Beeeeeeeeeeee~ I'm gonna indulge and ask for a Bakugou and a fem! S/O in a soulmate AU HC's or scenario! As for the Soulmate AU, how about the one where you meet your soulmate in your dreams every night. :)

AHHHHH YOU GOT IT MIA!!!!! HOPE YA LIKE IT FRIEND!!!

It was bound to happen eventually. You had heard the stories a hundred times about how your parents had first met, your father popping up in a dream your mother was having about something involving a ball pit and candy hearts. They didn’t actually meet until a few years later in their twenties, but their love was as real as ever. As a child, you’d often find yourself daydreaming and being excited to go to bed, thinking that maybe one day soon you would meet your destined ‘prince’ in your dreams just as your mother had and that the rest would be a happy, romantic history. Your wishes had remained the same as you grew older, even when you realized that your first meeting might not be as mushy and romantic as your child brain had thought, but then again, this was nowhere near what you were expecting.

It had been a while since you saw going to bed as some hopeful experience, so your night had ended like any other with you getting ready before cozying up into bed and slowly drifting off to sleep and fading into your own world of dreams. Just like anyone else, you had your fair share of strange dreams that you only remember odd little fragments of in the morning, but this one was surprisingly..normal. You were in the grocery store, a bag full of different fruits and veggies in one hand and the other hand was, well, in someone else’s. You, or your dream self rather, hadn’t remembered going with anyone, so it was as if suddenly you had just popped up into this world already hand in hand with someone, and that someone, as you soon came to realize, was not happy about this.

Before you even had the chance to look up and see just who the hell was with you, your ears were assaulted by a loud, frustrated shout as the person ripped their hand away from your own before pointing an accusatory finger in your face and continuing on with his yelling.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Your mouth dropped open for a second as you just stared at this blonde-headed asshole who honestly just dared to scream at you like you were intruding in on his life when he was the one in your dream. You were honestly starting to get more made at yourself though, your brain had never thought up such an explosive person to torment you with so why start now?! That was, unless..This wasn’t your brain’s doing. Your eyes widened in sudden realization and you looked around with your mouth still open as if you were trying to find someone to yell at and say ‘This can NOT be him!’, but your eyes only found his irritated red ones and in the midst of him yelling at you to answer him, you finally recognized him, ironically by the anger on his face and you pointed your own finger at him.

“YOU! THE MAD DOG FROM UA’S SPORTS FESTIVAL!!”

Oh, those were just the right words to literally get him fuming as his face became red with anger, but hey, you were just speaking the truth.

“WHA- DOG!? I’M NOT A FUCKING DOG YOU FUCKING WENCH!”

“They put a MUZZLE on you!!!! You’re a mad dog!!!! And look at you, all..all..insane looking!! Gah, this is ridiculous! Can’t I get a new one!?” You screamed out, look upwards as if whoever was in charge of your fate was looking down and laughing at you right this very second. This could just…not be right! Sure, you’d never met the kid before, Bakugou, you thought his name was, but when you saw him on t.v. he literally looked rabid, and how he was yelling at you just confirmed that. How the hell were you supposed to fall in love with a guy like that!?

Bakugou of course settled down only long enough to look at you like you were some kind of idiot, obviously not following what you were saying at first, but when it did dawned on him that you were an actual person and not just a figment of his dream, he realized that maybe this wasn’t his dream after all, but rather it was both of yours, and that could only mean one thing. The two of you, for some sick reason probably planned out by some god or entity, were soulmates.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

While you thought that you had every right to dislike who the universe had chosen for you, the fact that he was acting like you were the unreasonable one was ridiculous to you. You hadn’t even done anything wrong! Well, you called him a dog, but still.

“Hey, I’m not the one that dropped in and started yelling! You’re the one who was holding my hand!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest with groceries still in hand while sending a stern glare his way. His features still clearly showed frustration, but they had softened somewhat, and you had to admit that despite his apparently abrasive personality, he was definitely easy on the eyes. His own eyes were currently glaring right back at you as he tried to think of some sort of comeback, but really your were right, at least about him just starting off by yelling, so instead he just let out an annoyed huff.

Bakugou had never given much thought to the day he’d meet his soulmate, he had bigger things to worry about in his life and to be honest, he thought that his sheer will to not have one would keep him safe, but apparently he was wrong and now he was stuck not really knowing what to do with himself. He had never even considered working romance into his every day life and he figured once he was on the road to becoming the number one pro hero, he wouldn’t have time for such things. Now it seemed that, apparently, he would fall in love, which sounded like a stupid waste of time, but soulmates were supposed to be indefinite, right? So what the hell could he do to get out of this whole mess? With a frustrated huff he shook his head to rid himself of these rising concerns before looking around what seemed to be a grocery store void of people aside from himself and you. After a moment, he simply started wandering just to get you out of his hair, but you didn’t seem to be done with him yet.

“Where are you going??”

“To waste my fucking time before I can finally wake up from this nightmare.” He spat the word out as if to make it clear that you were what was making this a nightmare for him. You didn’t know him, and you already weren’t too fond of him, but he was supposed to be your soulmate and hearing such words from anyone could hurt someone’s feelings just a tad.

“You say that like this isn’t some shitty deal for me too…” You mumbled out under your breath, but you continued to follow him anyways, not having much else to do in this otherwise lonely world of yours.

“Well it’s not like I’m the one who made the decision, so don’t come blaming me.” He responded, his voice surprisingly softening somewhat. It wasn’t that he cared or anything, and it definitely wasn’t because the pouty look on your face was sort of cute, it was just better to have some chatty chick follow him around rather than a mopey one.

“I’m not blaming you for anything, I’m just saying we’re stuck with each other so you might as well treat me decently.” You retorted defiantly, before stopping and letting out a sigh and continuing on before he had the chance to add another snarky comment. “And that goes for me too I guess. Sorry for calling you a dog.”

Upon hearing your apology, Bakugou rose a suspicious brow and looked at you to see if you were just being sarcastic to make a point of being a dick, but you seemed pretty sincere. He let out a soft ‘Tch’ before averting his eyes and grumbling out an apology of his own.

“Whatever, sorry for calling you a wench.”

You nodded in response, before awkwardly continuing to walk next to him in silence while both of you pretended to be interested in whatever snacks were up on the shelves in each row you wandered through. But after a moment, you let out a surprised ‘Oh!’ and quickly turned to him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves!! I’m (Name)…it’s..interesting to meet you?” You awkwardly trailed off before continuing. “You’re Bakugou Katsuki, right? I remember from– oh, yeah, well from watching you during the sports festival. You were pretty impressive, I would kill for a flashy quirk like yours.”

While Bakugou definitely wasn’t one for idle chit chat, you did have a point in saying that the two of you would kind of have to at least tolerate each other since from now on, you’d be seeing much more of each other. Plus, he couldn’t deny that his ego inflated just a tad in response to your compliment.

“That was nothing, all those extras were weak anyways.” He gloated, a smirk settled on his face as he continued to talk without even thinking about what he was saying. “You’re just lucky you’re ending up with the future number one hero.”

You were almost surprised by the bold statement, just minutes ago he was acting like you were a disease and now that you complimented him, all he can think about is how lucky you are to have ended up with him. You rolled your eyes and let out a soft chuckle, thinking that maybe he wasn’t as terrible on the inside as his fiery temper makes him seem.

“ Ohoho, ‘lucky’, huh? Please, you’d probably end up whining if you ended up with a girl other than myself.~” You teased, jabbing a confident thumb at yourself, but when you heard him snort and look off to a side with a shaky smile on his face that he was obviously trying to hide, your face fell flat in annoyance.

“Don’t laugh!! I can be just as impressive as you, and I can do it without even having to be a hero! Just you fuckin’ see, mad dog.” You ranted, though this time your frustration was more lighthearted and playful than before. You couldn’t really say you were in love with this red eyed asshole just yet, but he was already starting to grow on you and you saw him as a challenge that you just had to win. Apparently, Bakugou was thinking just the same as he heard you scramble to defend your words. As impressive as him? As if. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t up for that challenge.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see then, huh (Name).” He said in a teasing tone just to provoke you a little bit more. However, as annoying and rude as he was, that fire in his eyes brought out your own will to win, and with a smirk and a face and a confident nod, you responded to, in a way, accept this challenge that somehow was meant to lead to love.

“Yeah, guess we’ll see.”

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader

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dust2dust34 · 6 years

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A quick flashfic in the Forever Is Composed of Nows ‘verse, specifically for Nate/Penny (aka BookQueen). This is the one sequel that both @so-caffeinated and I will be writing together like we did with FICoN and early parts of POA. It’s still a ways off, but along with the rest of the FICoN ‘verse, these two are never far from our thoughts...

*This is unbetaed and will likely get edits for the final story.*

(You can read a peek at what their [smutty] future is like here.)

This is how they meet...

June 2051

There is very little that Nate Queen dislikes more than inefficiency.

Chit-chat around water coolers and meandering lunch breaks spent talking about weekend plans is a waste of company time that’s not a whole lot better than stealing, in Nate’s opinion. At work, you have a job to do. You have a purpose and that purpose is not to gush over the newest reboot to hit theaters or talk about the exploits of some celebrity billionaire that got splashed across the gossip blogs.

Okay, that last one might be taking things a bit personally, but his point stands.

The fact that so few people seem to share Nate’s devotion and work ethic is both frustrating and a problem. For the life of him, he cannot seem to find an assistant who can live up to his standards. The job is not, in spite of assumptions, one that runs nine-to-five. The work day ends when the work is completed and not a moment before. Nate holds himself to that standard and he surely holds his assistants to it.

Which is why he’s burned through three of them so far this year and is currently relying on a temp agency while he searches for someone who actually wants to be a professional instead of goofing off half of the time.

His last assistant had been on Twitter while she was working. Ignoring the fact that no one even uses Twitter these days, what could be the possible justification for that?

No one in Human Resources had been surprised in the least when he’d informed them that he was going to need them to vet some new candidates for him, but they’d definitely been annoyed. This time, he tells himself, this time he’ll make sure he gets someone right for the job. This time, he’s going to find a good, dedicated, long-term assistant that doesn’t leave him back in the H.R. department before the end of summer. For one thing, having to spend time interviewing someone so routinely is terribly inefficient. And, honestly, counterproductive.

Knowing him as they do, H.R. has had trouble getting anyone past the first round of interviews. Nate has become somewhat notorious for his exacting standards and he suspects the hiring manager is pulling no punches in describing exactly what working for him is like. He’s not an easy boss, but he demands no more of others than he’s willing to give himself. While he might not be easy to work for, he is fair.

But, there’s something of a deviation from normal procedure today. That alone would be enough to make Nate a little unsettled - he likes routine; procedures are there for a reason - but the reason for it also just rubs him the wrong way.

It had started, of all things, with a call from his brother.

“Hey, so… no pressure here, but I need to ask you for a favor.”

The statement alone had been a surprise, but Nate had assumed he needed a babysitter for some reason and had been ready to agree until Will continued.

“Actually it’s Beth’s friend who needs… No, Micah, don’t you dare put peas up your brother’s nose!... Who needs a favor.”

It hadn’t been the deviation in the middle that had thrown Nate.

“I’m not asking you to hire her,” Will had continued, “but Beth’s got this friend, a girl a few years older than her who tutored her in her business class. And she’s looking for a job. And Beth might’ve promised she could get her an interview at Q.I.”

Nate had barely bitten back a curse. Of course she had. Beth’s absolutely the type to promise something then bat her eyes until other people make it happen.

It’d taken Will a while to talk him into it and Nate had really only been convinced because his youngest nephew had started wailing. Apparently he’d really wanted peas up his nose and it quickly became clear that Will was doing his best to comfort the toddler while simultaneously continuing to attempt to persuade him. And, okay, Nate might be a hard-ass of a boss, but he’s a pushover when it comes to his siblings. So he’d finally sighed and agreed before taking down Beth’s friend’s information and forwarding it over to Human Resources.

Penny Bookwalter.

She was one year out of college with a bachelor’s degree in business administration and an associate’s in administrative assistant studies. She might’ve been a strong candidate for a lower level manager, either as an assistant or working in accounts herself. The education is surely there, but the experience is not. Aside from an internship at a company that went belly-up last winter and a few temp jobs, the only thing to recommend her is a handful of glowing letters of recommendation that Will sends on her behalf.

Except Bethany, of course.

Nate isn’t especially close with his half-brother’s baby sister. He likes her well-enough, he guesses, went to her wedding and wrote a really hefty check as a gift. But they could not be two more different people if they tried and they rarely spend time together or even chat outside of extended family gatherings. So, he’d been more than a little surprised to see her when she’d turned up at his office with a bag of donuts and a toothy smile that meant she had an agenda.

Like Bethany Samayamantula has ever done anything without an agenda?

She’d dropped a bag of bear claws on his desk, perched herself next to it and said, “Hello, my almost-brother. Let me tell you about my amazing friend and why you need to hire her.”

Frankly, she’s going to be terrifying when she’s done getting her real estate license. He’s glad he never has to negotiate with her. Well… for anything other than this, anyhow. Still, he respects her for going to extra mile for her friend and the simple fact that she does builds his interest in the would-be assistant.

She still should’ve gone through the proper channels rather than vaulting straight past the screener appointment to have a sit-down with him, which will be starting in - Nate checks his watch - fourteen minutes. Presuming she’s on time. If she’s not it won’t be starting at all.

His favors only extend so far.

Nate collates the papers for Edgarton into a neat pile before slipping them into a folder. He ignores the twinge of annoyance at having to hope the temp currently working for him doesn’t misfile these, or worse, file them in the wrong place completely like she did with the Applied Sciences project that’d gotten fast-tracked last week.

Collecting the folder and a memo with his notes, he heads out of his office. She’d misspelled words he didn’t even know people could misspell, which simply only telegraphed her laziness not only with his files but his dictations as well. It’s simply a reminder that he absolutely will not hire someone just so that he’s done with hit-and-miss temps. This one is surely a miss.

It might help if she’d actually stay at her desk.

Nate stops dead in his tracks and clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. Only the fact that he hears her heels on the marble floor in his outer office saves her, followed by her saying, “Sorry your coffee’s in a plastic cup, I couldn’t find the real ones.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” someone replies. The answering voice is soft, reserved, and a little nervous, judging by the way the words end in a lilt. She’s being nice, that much is obvious, especially because it’s not fine, not in Nate’s estimation. The coffee mugs are kept on a rack that sits right next to the espresso and coffee machines and he has to wonder where in hell Miss Dunsworth went to get that cup of coffee. The voice continues with an equally soft, “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” Miss Dunsworth says. The casual nature makes Nate’s eye twitch. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Nate raises an eyebrow. Is this his interview? He glances at his watch again, but it’s exactly as he thought, except now he has thirteen minutes before the scheduled appointment. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit impressed. It’s almost enough to assuage the fact that he’s having to do this at all.

“Oh no,” the soft-spoken woman says, “please don’t interrupt him if he’s busy. I’m early.”

“Alright. That’s probably a good idea, he can be kind of a d-i-c-k sometimes.”

Nate isn’t sure which emotion hits him first - aggravation, anger, or amazement that she can spell the word dick just fine, but she thinks the word agreement actually has four e’s. He doesn’t get the chance to react, though, because the person he assumes to be Miss Bookwalter replies.

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Queen,” Miss Dunsworth supplies.

Nate moves to catch a glimpse of his temp leaning against one of the couches in his waiting room as if she’s at home and not in a professional work environment.

His temp isn’t finished.

“The only reason I’ve stuck around so long is because the stick that lives up his ass doesn’t take away from how insanely hot said ass is.”

Oh, is that all? Nate thinks dryly.

Miss Bookwalter doesn’t skip a beat and Nate almost does a double take at the change in her voice as she says, “It sounds like he knows what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Miss Dunsworth says. “To be a dick. Just a little warning, he’s not easy to work for. In fact he’s hard as hell to work for. He made me stay until seven last night to finish some paperwork when it could have easily been done this morning. Hi, people have lives.”

“If the work needs to be finished,” Miss Bookwalter replies, “you should stay until it’s finished. If that’s what your boss needs.”

Yes.

Exactly.

There’s not an ounce of bite to her words, but the point is there, and it’s direct. Nate’s aggravation with his temporary assistant shifts to intrigue as he glances at where Miss Bookwalter sits. All he sees are a pair of simple black heels and bare calves.

“You are way more patient than me, girl,” Miss Dunsworth replies. “I’m just saying, I’ve been temping for a few years now and this guy is by far the worst I’ve ever experienced.”

The silence that follows is almost tangible, and Nate is too transfixed to do anything but watch. He can see with each second that passes that it wears on Miss Dunsworth. She starts to wilt, clearly not finding the camaraderie that she’d been expecting.

“Thank you,” Miss Bookwalter finally replies and Nate’s eyes switch back to where the woman sits up taller. “I’ve been doing temp work, too, and I can speak from experience that not every work environment is right for everyone. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, either. You just have to find the right place for you.”

Miss Bookwalter is cordial and even-tempered and, once again, so damn direct in her own way that Nate almost smiles.

Miss Dunsworth finally picks up on it. “True.” She’s much more muted now and if Nate was a betting man - he isn’t - he’d say she was flush with her own brand of agitation. The silence this time is heavier as she steps back. “I’ll let him know you’re here when it’s time.”

“Tha-”

Nate’s moving before he can stop himself.

The proper thing would be to go back into his office and deal with Miss Dunsworth later, and then take the interview with Miss Bookwalter as scheduled, but he doesn’t do that.

Instead he steps out from his inner offices with a sharp, “That won’t be necessary,” which makes his temp jump.

It’s painfully obvious he’d been listening in, judging by the look on her face as much as by the way he catches the other woman’s shoulders dropping in his peripheral.

“Oh, Mr. Queen,” Miss Dunsworth starts, but Nate waves her off.

“These are for you,” he says, handing her the file. She is flushing, making her skin splotchy all across her chest.

“You’re done with the Everton thing?”

Nate damn near grinds his molars into dust. “Yes,” he replies. “The thing for Edgarton is done.” He forces himself to take a deep breath and says a soft, “Thank you,” before turning to Miss Bookwalter. “You must be…”

For those four minutes he’d been listening in he honestly thought he knew what he’d be expecting when he finally turns to this friend of Bethany’s who had already impressed him with just a few words.

He could not possibly be more wrong.

Penny Bookwalter is absolutely nothing like he might have imagined, as a friend of Bethany’s or as someone who doesn’t back down in the face of unprofessionalism.

The petite redhead immediately stands in response, holding her hand out. The reserved nature he’d heard in her voice earlier is readily apparent in the air around her once more, and the nervousness is back, he notes, as she closes the distance between them. But there’s something else underneath it, an excitement he’s never seen in another person, a vitality that makes him blink twice.

And she’s absolutely beautiful. Shockingly stunning, even.

He’s struck dumb in a way he hasn’t felt in years and it leaves him floundering slightly.

“Penny Bookwalter,” she fills in, offering her hand to him.

He mutely takes it, unable to take his eyes off her. A remnant blush is evident on her cheeks and up over her temples, mixing in the with the vibrant color of her hair. Her eyes are alert, but there’s more than nervousness there. She’s worried, about what he overheard. He immediately wants to tell her that the interview hasn’t even started and he’s already taken with her.

Taken with her?

No, she’s here for the interview, to be his assistant. Not to date him. Date? Nate does another double take, this time at himself, because where exactly were these thoughts coming from? He was at work, meeting with a potential employee, not looking for someone to sweep off their feet.

“Nate Queen,” he replies, his voice low, lower than he intends. Her eyes widen minutely before she catches herself, but she can’t quite control the way her hand tightens in his. He grasps hers a little closer - it’s small and it fits beautifully against his fingers - and is about to add more, but she’s already talking.

“I know who you are, Mr. Queen,” Penny says, giving him a good, solid handshake. If someone would’ve judged her handshake based on the soft way she spoke, this isn’t what they’d get. No, this handshake more matched the woman who’d inadvertently stepped up to bat to defend a job she didn’t even have yet. “It’s so good to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to interview me, sir.”

Something deep inside him tugs, the combination of her voice, so soft and excited and nervous all at once, along with the strength in her personal presentation to him pulls him in even more than he already was. There’s a solid foot of height difference between them and he knows the instant she feels it when he just stares at her for a beat, trying to suss out what it is exactly that’s capturing him so much about her. It’s only when her cheeks flush as red as her hair that he realizes what he’s doing.

“I’m glad to have the opportunity, Miss Bookwalter,” Nate says. When she doesn’t immediately correct him to use her first name, he smiles. Genuinely. He likes that. “Please come inside so we can get started.”

Thank you for reading, we hope you enjoyed it! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

@so-caffeinated has started drafting the first sequel, so the FICoN wheels are in motion!

#forever is composed of nows #ficon #bookqueen #nathaniel queen #penny bookwalter #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust #ficon drabble

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fanficsandfluff · 7 years

Text

The Avengers: Comfort, Dance, Fireplace

A fantastic three-word request from @theart-ofsimpleimaginaton

Winteriron has been her recent obsession, and it’s been my own for a long damn time. I just never had the right content to write really good fics. This isn’t my first winteriron, but this is definitely one of the longest fics I’ve written in a long time. Hope you enjoy!

Words: 3,493

“Hey you,” Tony Stark greeted with a sly smile, waltzing into the rec room to see only Bucky sitting with the television on.

Bucky was sitting with his legs crossed, hair up in a bun, his metal arm draped over the back of the couch. Ultimate comfort position. He turned his head suddenly upon hearing Tony’s voice, a strand of dark hair falling in his face having lost its security in his bun.

“Hi, Tony,” Bucky smiled softly back at the billionaire.

Tony glanced at the TV screen when he walked in and he plopped down directly next to Bucky, ignoring literally every other empty seat in the room.

“What’s this? One of those CIA, FBI shows?”

Bucky felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He shouldn’t be embarrassed about his likes and dislikes, but something about impressing Tony stuck out to him.

“Yeah,” he answered simply, not wanting to draw more attention to the show or his uncomfortable expression.

Tony got comfortable, leaning back into the plush couch, thigh to thigh with the Winter Soldier. Bucky instinctively jerked his thigh away when he felt the touch, but let it fall back into its previous position. Silence. Just great.

Bucky was starting to realize this show’s faults more and more the longer he sat there under Tony’s scrutinizing eyes. He eventually couldn’t take it anymore and he stood up with a quick clearing of his throat.

“Sorry, I gotta.. Here, put on what you want,” Bucky tossed the remote to Tony before leaving in a rush.

Tony looked mildly offended when he caught the remote to his chest.

“Was it something I said?” Tony inquired somewhat innocently, truly not knowing what made Bucky leave so fast. He sat and thought, not changing the channel. As a commercial blared in the background, Tony figured out that he’d never exactly been alone with Bucky before. He’d always been with the group in communal settings. Was Bucky avoiding him? He hoped he knew all that crap was behind them. Bucky shouldn’t be afraid to be near him, even one-on-one. The billionaire playboy let it go for now, stepping out of the rec room. Nothing interesting to do in there anyway.

Bucky had gone off to his room to change into another set of comfortable clothes, ready to head to the gym. It was always his relief when he didn’t feel 100% great. He wrapped up his hand, clad in loose shorts and a tank top. Bucky felt lucky seeing that he was also alone in the gym. He set to work first stretching.

Tony was on his way back to the lab when he passed by the gym. He backtracked and looked at who was actually inside. Upon seeing Bucky, Tony figured a change of plan.

Bucky finished stretching and then moved to lifting weights. He didn’t have a spotter but he figured he didn’t need one.

About ten reps in, a whistle alerted Bucky to someone else’s presence. He set the weight down and turned around, chest heaving from his workout.

“Wow, what’re you benching? 300?”

“335,” Bucky wiped sweat from his brow.

Tony smirked, “You looked kinda lonely in here. I figured I’d stop by and join you. Give you a friend.”

Bucky sighed and he shrugged, “Yeah, whatever you want,” he went to the mats next and started a string of pushups. Tony watched Bucky for a half a second, knowing those flexing back and shoulder muscles were giving him some type of feeling. He ignored it best he could and walked to the treadmill. He never used the damn treadmill. Well, in front of Bucky he did.

They shared a silence, Tony at a simple jog and Bucky grunting with each new pushup.

“Barnes,” Tony began through a pant, “Do I rub you the wrong way or something?”

Bucky fell to his knees and he coughed once, turning over and sitting down, looking in Tony’s direction, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Tony slowed the speed on the treadmill to a quick walk, “You don’t look super comfortable around me.”

Bucky blushed and he ran fingers through his mop of hair, “What gave you that idea, Tony?”

Tony hopped off the treadmill and approached Bucky, “Oh you know. Wanting to immediately leave the room when I walk in. Not wanting to be alone with me. Just things like that.”

The Winter Soldier tried coming up with an answer, “It isn’t... it’s not you.”

“No? Then what?”

“Tony, please don’t make me--”

“What don’t you like?”

“The way you act,” Bucky blurted out, afraid to look up at Tony standing over him.

“Oh...”

“You’re very uh... touchy. I understand if that’s your personality, but I respect boundaries and you less so.”

“You don’t like my acting comfortable around you?”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Hey, you should be honored I’m acting the way I do around you, Barnes. Tony Stark doesn’t open up to everyone.”

Bucky chanced a glance up and he was met with Tony’s hurt brown eyes, “I... so... you weren’t trying to annoy me? Purposely? That was you being genuine?”

Tony rolled his eyes and he scoffed, “Jesus, if you have that little faith in me, guess we’ll have to loosen you up a bit, huh?” he chewed on his lip in thought, “Tell you what, tonight. Me and you. We’re going out.”

“O-Out?” Bucky sputtered, now frantically trying to stand up, “Tony, I don’t exactly go out--”

“It’ll be our little date,” Tony winked at the Winter Soldier, “Meet me downstairs at 7, kay, buttercup?” now he was pouring it on overload.

Bucky’s mouth was agape and he was too stunned to combat anything Tony said. And before he knew it, Tony was gone.

***

Bucky didn’t know what kind of outing he would be having with Tony. But he did know Tony Stark was one to dress up unnecessarily for most occasions. So the Winter Soldier enlisted Steve’s help in lending him some clothes. Steve was able to provide Bucky with a pair of dress shorts and a big dress shirt in order for it to fit over his bulky metal arm.

“So a date, huh?” Steve grinned at his friend while fixing his collar.

“That’s what Tony called it. I think he just wanted to hang out with me.”

Steve smiled, “Well, I hope he doesn’t annoy you too much, Buck,” he slapped Bucky’s shoulder with a chuckle.

Bucky smiled weakly back at Steve and looked at himself in the mirror. He thought he looked pretty snazzy. He just had to do something about his hair. He ventured back to his own room and tied his hair back into a bun best he could, trying to get all those loose strands. Once he felt he was presentable, he went downstairs to wait for Tony. He prayed none of the other Avengers saw him like this, or he’d die from embarrassment.

Tony came down five minutes later, in his two piece suit and slightly open button down shirt. Bucky was dressed similarly minus the suit jacket.

Tony had to pause and then he chuckled, stepping forward. He was eyeing Bucky up and down, “You clean up good, Barnes.”

“So do you. So, where are we going?”

“All in due time,” Tony got inside the limo waiting for them and Bucky followed. He looked out the window at the bright night lights of Manhattan. Nothing was quite like it to him and it still impressed him after all these years.

The limo drove on in silence for the entirety of the ride. Bucky had leaned his head against the window and nearly dozed off before he felt the car stop moving. Tony slid out first and waited for Bucky to exit with him. They were in front of a fancy looking restaurant.

Bucky shifted nervously, knowing nothing good can come out of him eating in a public place looking like he did. He was so changed, and it killed him. Where was his macho, stud persona? The implantation of a new metal limb and years of brainwashing could destroy a man, apparently.

“Welcome, Mr. Stark. I have your area all set up for you,” a woman who seemed to be the manager of the establishment greeted Tony. And Bucky followed them both into... an elevator? Geez, how big was this place?

They went up about 10 stories and then got off, walking through an empty ballroom before ending up on a balcony. Bucky looked around, smiling softly at the greenery and stone paneled floor in the open summer air. It was beautiful.

“Here are menus. You’ll have a private server. I hope you enjoy your night.”

And she left. And now it was just Tony, Bucky, one table, and an entire balcony all to themselves.

“Tony, this is really nice,” Bucky walked up to the edge of the balcony and looked over the gate at the city below them.

“I thought you’d like some privacy. Drink?” Tony came over from a small bar set up outside with them and held two golden drinks in his hands. Bucky nodded and took one, taking a sip.

Tony smirked, holding his glass out to give cheers but Bucky seemed to just want to drink, “So, how was the rest of your day?”

“Fine,” Bucky nodded, stuffing a portion of his metal hand into his pants pocket.

“Great. Mine was good, too. Got some upgrades done.”

“Good,” Bucky awkwardly flitted his eyes about before locking them on the dusky night sky.

Tony took more of his beverage before going over and taking a look at the menus left for them, “Hungry?” man, he was sick of the chit chat.

“Um, yes,” Bucky walked closer to Tony, “Do they have steak?”

“Some of the best I’ve ever had, yeah,” Tony smiled.

“Great, I’ll get that.”

Tony shook his head, still grinning. Bucky was something, alright. Tony ordered for himself and Bucky when he summoned a waiter. Small bits of conversation continued, Bucky getting more alcohol for himself. When the food came, Bucky sat across from Tony and they ate.

Tony could see Bucky’s cheeks staying a light tint of pink, and he smiled at how damn cute that was. The alcohol was probably getting to him and it showed in his face. It failed to show in his mannerisms yet. Yet.

“How’s the ste--” Tony didn’t let himself finish when he saw Bucky’s plate empty save for one small chunk of beef. And when he looked up, he saw Bucky’s cheeks puffed out, a bit of steak juice dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Tony laughed.

Bucky swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin, “What?”

“Nohothing. I got my answer.”

Bucky smiled softly and he downed his third glass of hard liquor. He coughed after.

“Are you trying to get drunk, Barnes?”

“I can’t,” Bucky shrugged.

Tony remembered that little affliction Steve had and forgot it was shared between both super soldiers.

“Oh right,” Tony cleared his throat, “So, anything you do for fun? Does the Winter Soldier even know how to have a good time?”

Bucky grinned, “That would require a lot more alcohol.”

“Then allow me to pour you another drink,” Tony took the bottle of whiskey they’d been sharing and poured Bucky another small glass.

Bucky hummed and huffed a chuckle, downing that easily, cringing afterwards. Tony smiled at him and had no shame in staring at him for a few extra seconds.

Bucky shut his eyes and swayed in his chair slowly, Tony noting he was moving in sync with the slow music floating from inside the building. He bit his lip while considering what he was about to do. Screw it, he could get away with it. He was Tony Stark.

The billionaire tugged on Bucky’s arm, “Alright, get up.”

Bucky rose a brow but stood, “Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m gonna teach you a thing or two about having a good time,” Tony looked up at the slightly taller man. He pulled Bucky in by his waist and entangled his fingers in Bucky’s. The Winter Soldier was at a loss for words, but he could’ve sworn Tony started dancing with him.

Bucky had no choice but to move in tandem with Tony.

“Loosen up,” Tony admonished, giving Bucky’s waist a gentle squeeze, “You’re stiffer than Cap in the snow.”

Bucky huffed out a genuine laugh at both the comment and at the squeeze aimed at his side.

Tony saw Bucky’s smile and felt it was time for more drastic measures. He swayed with Bucky more along to the soft tune wafting out from inside. When the music swelled, Tony honest to God dipped the Winter Soldier. Bucky went down with a gasp and he stared up at Tony wide-eyed.

Tony fell even more for this man, seeing his heated cheeks, wide eyes, and now loose strands of hair falling in front of his face. He pulled him back up, knowing their faces were intentionally closer than before.

Bucky’s lower lip hung open and a fire lit up in his lower belly. Holy shit no. He couldn’t be falling for Tony Stark, could he? Dammit.

Tony guided Bucky’s hips as they stepped in time to the music. This was the longest goddamn song in the history of the world.

“I’m gonna spin you now,” Tony warned. Bucky was still unprepared but flowed as graceful as he could when Tony let him go and spun him on the tips of his fingers. Bucky chuckled softly, embarrassed yes, but also having a damn good time. Tony smiled at Bucky.

“How do you feel?”

“Great,” Bucky breathed and smiled genuinely.

Tony heard the music drift off until there was silence and only the noises of New York City with the two of them.

“James,” Tony used Bucky’s first name instead of his last, “You know when I said this was a date?”

Bucky stood at arm’s distance apart from Tony, “Yeah? And?”

“Oh it was. It totally was.”

Bucky grinned and he stepped forward, “Do you want to kiss me, Tony?” he asked outright. Tony rose both brows and he grinned almost stupidly.

“Yeahah. Yeah, very much. I just wanted-- mmph!”

Bucky pressed his lips to Tony’s before the other could stop him and they meshed together perfectly. They moaned at the same time. Bucky caressed Tony’s arm and slid his hand up until he was cupping his cheek. Tony wrapped both arms around Bucky’s waist.

Needless to say, they went back to the Towers happy, Tony a bit tipsy and Bucky supportive.

“Nohoho, let’s not show everyone how drunk you are,” Bucky chuckled as he walked Tony into the elevator and stood as they ascended the many floors of the towers.

“But why noot?” Tony pouted, “People like me when I’m drunk. ‘M tons of fun.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I saw you crazy drunk once and I wasn’t a fan.”

Tony stuck out his lower lip, hurt that Bucky would ever say that. The Winter Soldier carted Tony out of the elevator and walked him to the appropriate bedroom. Stumbling and giggling like kids, they finally arrived at the intended destination. Bucky felt Tony slip off his shoulders and he watched the billionaire genius flop onto the bed and groan. Bucky chuckled, dark locks finally slipping lose from the hair tie and draping the Winter Soldier’s face.

“Tired?” Bucky asked with a smile.

“Mmmhm...” Tony grumbled back.

This was the first time Bucky had been in Tony’s bedroom. And holy crap was it way nicer than his own. He had his own bathroom complete with tub and shower, a small kitchenette, a fireplace, and a huge TV.

“Alright, well... why don’t we get you more comfortable, hm?” Bucky went by the bed and he bent down, starting to untie Tony’s shoes. He figured the man was too wasted to do it himself. One shoe off, then the other. The problem laid in removing Tony’s suit jacket.

“Noho! Stohop touchin’ mehehe!” Tony giggled childishly, squirming around whenever Bucky tried slipping the jacket off of him.

Bucky found it endearing and he scoffed, “Well, what do you want me to do? I’m not even touching you.”

“Yehehes you ahahare,” Tony squeaked when Bucky gave a particularly hard tug. He soon got it off and Bucky wiped his brow.

“Jesus, you’re hard to work with,” Bucky admonished playfully.

“‘M not. Just a little ticklish,” Tony rolled onto his stomach and hugged a pillow to his face. Bucky’s lip twitched. He walked over to the fireplace and found out how to turn it on so it was soon ablaze. It gave off such a comforting glow and a cozy heat. Bucky turned around to see Tony basically asleep, mouth slightly agape as his breathing became soft. The soldier pouted, not wanting this night to end.

He tiptoed over and sat on Tony’s bed, gently nudging his back, “Tony. Tony, come on, don’t sleep yet.”

“Mmm..”

Bucky laid down behind the billionaire and nuzzled into the back of his neck. Tony shuddered and a surprised giggle was ripped from his lips.

“Nohoho...”

“You’re that sensitive?” Bucky tippled his fingers up the bend in Tony’s waist, to which the shorter male yelped and tried curling up.

“Buhuhucky!”

Bucky grinned, enjoying Tony’s bubbly laughter probably more than he should. He was able to worm his hand underneath Tony’s partly untucked shirt and scratch away at the soft tummy. Tony was already at the level of cackling, tossing his head back and laughing with pure mirth in his eyes.

Bucky blamed part of Tony’s extreme ticklishness on the alcohol, but he really hoped this didn’t change things too much. Having Tony this susceptible to even the lightest touches was precious.

“St-Stop! Stohohop I cahahahahahan’t! B-Buhucky!” Tony wheezed when the tickles went on for too long for him to handle. Bucky left him alone with some remorse, wishing he could hear that laughter forever.

“Gohohod... is it warm ihin here? Or is it just me?”

Bucky grinned, “Well, you were just squirming and laughing. But I turned the fireplace on, too. Thought it seemed more romantic.”

Tony calmed down from his giggle fit and he looked at Bucky. He smiled and scooted over, kissing Bucky on the lips, “You’re right. It’s totally romantic. You know what’ll make it even better?”

“Mm? What?”

“Hearing you laugh,” Tony purred in Bucky’s ear, and even as discombobulated as his drunken self was, Tony was still on top of his tickler game. He laid on top of Bucky and was able to attack his sides with vicious kneads nonstop.

“AHA!” Bucky squeaked when he first felt those fingers. Steve was the only one who knew he was ticklish and now that became two people to know. Bucky tried to resist squirming, afraid he’d hurt Tony if he swung his metal arm in the wrong way.

“SHIHIT! Tohohonyyy! Hahahahaha!” Bucky laughed, snorting when Tony really got to massaging his ribs.

“Got any good spots?” Tony slurred, grinning with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He explored higher up on Bucky’s ribs and started to notice a pattern. Bucky laughed harder the higher up Tony went, and he seemed to be protecting his underarms at all cost.

To allow him to let his guard down, Tony ceased his wiggling fingers and withdrew them from Bucky entirely.

Bucky panted, arms falling limp at his sides, “Thihis is so unfair.”

“It will be in a second,” Tony smirked and he dove in, able to stick one hand in Bucky’s armpit and the other as far to the metal arm attachment as possible. And oh what a sweet spot he found in both those areas. Bucky bucked like a bull and screamed.

“What a ticklish little soldier,” Tony giggled, somehow imagining that to be a real funny line.

When Bucky begged for Tony to stop, the billionaire did so. He plopped next to Bucky instead of on top of him and smiled broadly at him.

“J-Jesus... it is hot in here,” Bucky breathed.

Tony laughed and he started to undress himself, “We can get a bit more comfortable.”

Bucky was wary at first when he saw Tony so willingly get stripped down to his boxers and an undershirt he had on. But the shorter one’s happy face put Bucky at ease, and he soon undressed into his own boxers and tank top undershirt. Clothes tossed to the floor, Tony snuggled up to Bucky.

“I had a great night,” Bucky whispered and kissed the top of Tony’s head.

“They’re all gonna be great nights now,” was Tony’s response, eyes already shut and ready for sleep.

Bucky blushed and he giggled to himself. He couldn’t help it. He fell asleep cuddled up to Tony after watching the fire in the fireplace dance around. They were just the right amount of cozy and warm. Things were perfect.

#ticklish!tony #ticklish!bucky #winteriron #tony/bucky #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #iron man #winter soldier #marvel #avengers #mcu #fluff #relationship building

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