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ceealaina · 4 years

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Title: Time May Change Me Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Time Travel (to the past) Ship: Stony Rating: E Major Tags: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame, Endgame Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Summary: A slight shift in timing during the time heist mission leaves Tony and Steve trapped in 1970. Stuck together while they try and work out a new plan, they instead start to see each other in a whole new light. Word Count: 13,609

It started to go wrong the way these things usually did for them — the second they split up. (You’d think by now they would have learned.)

Tony’s timing (hah, how fitting that time was working against them) had been off by seconds. He was just about to cut into the appropriate container, grab the Tesseract and get the hell out of dodge when he’d been interrupted. It probably could have been worse. At least he hadn’t been cut red -- or blue -- handed. But he was caught so off guard by being met with fucking Howard of all people that he hadn’t been able to find an excuse to stay, walking his father out and making bullshit conversation and feeling his heart sink deeper with every step further he took from the Tesseract.

Steve hadn’t fared much better. He had, initially, gotten his hands on the Pym particles. But, distracted by a glimpse of Peggy, of seeing first hand the life she’d lived without him, he had hesitated a moment too long before leaving. He thought he’d made it out. He was outside and had signalled to Tony -- who was talking to his father, no way that was a good idea -- and was just waiting for him to join him when he heard shouts. Steve had to make a quick get away after that, leaving Tony to extricate himself as quickly and unsuspiciously as possible, and hope they’d manage to find each other again. Steve got away, but somehow the Pym Particles were lost in the process. Because that just seemed to be how their day was going.

Tony found Steve a couple hours later, sitting forlornly on a bench in some little park. He’d abandoned most of his borrowed uniform in an attempt at disguise, leaving him in a white t-shirt and a pair of alarmingly high-waisted bell bottom pants that he’d gotten from god knew where. There were a few birds scattered by his feet and Tony resisted the urge to make a crack about old men feeding pigeons in the park as he flopped down onto the bench beside him.

“Cheer up, Cap,” he told him, giving him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad.”

Steve lifted his head to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best. “Not so bad?” he repeated. “Tony, I lost the Pym Particles.”

“And I didn’t get the Tesseract.”

“Oh, great, things are going to be just fine then.”

“Wow. Sarcasm is not a good look on you, Rogers.”

“I’m not in the mood, Tony. We’re trapped here, and apparently we don’t even have the thing we came for. It’s over, we lost.”

“Well... Not exactly.” At Steve’ confused stare, Tony gave a half shrug. “The good news is, we technically have all the time in the world. Once we get the particles, we can go right back to where we were when we left.”

“We still have to get the particles,” Steve pointed out, but there was something almost resembling hope on his face. “And the Tesseract. And they’ll have stepped up security, if they think there was a breach.”

“Yup,” Tony admitted. “And since bouncing in as Captain America Iron Man could probably result in some catastrophically timeline-altering bullshit, we’re probably going to have to play the long game.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Steve asked. “It’s 1970, and we didn’t exactly come prepared. You technically haven’t even been born yet; I don’t think your driver’s license is going to fly. We’ve got no IDs, no money, and no place to stay -- SHIELD's list of safehouses isn’t going to cut it right now. How are we playing the long game?”

Tony gave him a crooked grin. “I’m gonna tell you something, and I really need you to not judge me over this, Cap.”

“Oh, this should be good.”

“So back when I was thirteen and in my last years of high school, I was young, and bored, and…”

“A pain in the ass?” Steve supplied.

“Precocious.” Tony gave him a dirty look. “Point being, I may have run some scams, started selling fake IDs… Pre technology era, it was surprisingly easy, actually. Which probably doesn’t say much for the security of our country, but works out well for our purposes.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want to run scams selling IDs?”

“Well, the IDs would be for us, but basically… Yeah, at least until we get ourselves situated. Unless you got a better idea? I mean, stripping usually pays under the table. Not sure how prominent male strippers were in 1970, but I’m sure you could fetch a pretty penny with that ass.”

Steve gave a long, pained sigh. “Nope. ID scams it is.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

Steve padded down the hall and into the avocado green kitchen that never failed to make his soul cry a little. Tony was already there, sitting at the kitchen table with a legal pad and a mechanical pencil, muttering to himself as he sketched out equations that Steve couldn’t even begin to process. Steve arched an eyebrow at him, beelining for the coffee pot; Tony’s bad habits were starting to rub off on him.

“You get any sleep last night?”

Tony waved his free hand in a so-so gesture before scribbling a few more numbers and looking up to give Steve a slightly crooked grin. “Couple hours.” He made a show of looking Steve up and down, and even though he should have been used to it by now, Steve felt a shiver run up his spine. “Cute shorts, Cap.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shifting to tug at the super short hemline for the umpteenth time. “It’s July, Tony. It’s 90 degrees out there. And apparently this is what the 1970s have to offer for running shorts.”

Tony leaned back in the chair, balancing it on the back two legs. “Hey, I’m not complaining.” He gave him a wink. “Seriously, Steve. You look good.”

Instead of answering, Steve turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs. Since they’d been stuck here, there had been a million little things that Steve had barely even noticed in the future that he missed terribly now, and currently his Super Special Super Soldier Protein Bars (Tony’d had them patented in 2013) were topping the list. He was sure someone, somewhere would have Thoughts on his shifting priorities and how they reflected the Decline Of America, but energy bars were infinitely preferable to having to mix raw eggs into his orange juice, and there was no way around it. He had to pinch his nose as he knocked the drink back, trying to swallow as quickly as he could, but it didn’t do anything to mask the texture.

The sentiment was apparently shared by Tony, who made a face as he watched Steve3. “I could probably reverse engineer some kind of protein bar that meets your super soldier needs,” he offered.

Steve gave him a fond smile. “I’ve had worse,” he told him, which was true, but not by much. “And I don’t think I’d trust your cooking. Anyway, I think I’d rather you reverse engineer a way for us to get the Tesseract.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony frowned back down at his legal pad and aggressively scratched out a few numbers. “I’m working on it.”

Steve arched his eyebrows at him. “And I’m going for a run.”

Tony waved him off, but as Steve headed back into the hall, he heard him call, “Bye, Cap! Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave!”

As he started his regular run through the winding streets of small town Jersey (ew), Steve’s mind started to wander the way it always did when he worked out -- even if he had to hold himself back to keep from attracting unwanted attention. And, the way it seemed to be doing more and more lately, as his worries took a backseat, his mind drifted to Tony instead.

Steve couldn’t say exactly when things had changed between them. It had been the same as usual, at first, the two of them poking and prodding at each other. Steve respected Tony, always had after New York, and he was pretty sure Tony felt the same way about him. But they also knew how to push each other’s buttons, and didn’t seem to be able to stop doing it.

As the spring had dragged on, and their plans to get back into Fort LeHigh went exactly nowhere, and frustrations grew, Steve had expected things to get even worse between them. But instead the exact opposite had happened. Maybe it was the fact that he had a kid now, maybe it was the fact that it felt like the whole world was against them right now, nothing going right, and they were the only ones who had each other’s back. But Tony was different now, and Steve had a feeling that he probably was too.

They had talked about it, once, after yet another tossed out plan. Tony had admitted how much this was weighing on him, how scared he was that this would fail, how many people were counting on them -- Morgan most of all. And then, in a voice that broke Steve’s heart, Tony had admitted that making the effort to get along with Steve made him feel a little bit better about failing to get them out of there. Steve had tried to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that coming to 1970 may have been Tony’s idea, but that he’d also been right about it being their only chance. But he knew Tony enough to know that that guilt wasn’t going to stop no matter what Steve said. So he made the effort to be kinder to Tony in turn. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being an effort and just became their relationship. They still teased and prodded at each other, but instead of antagonism, it was all fondness, Tony looking delighted every time he’d get a smile out of Steve. They argued too, sometimes, because they were still them, but the arguments were fewer and farther between, and more often than not they’d just fizzle out entirely until they could come back to it later and have an actual conversation instead.

The team was his family, he loved and trusted them with every ounce of his body. But the little house he shared with Tony was starting to feel like home in a way that he hadn’t found since 1942. Steve knew he shouldn’t be getting too comfortable, that he was probably getting too complacent about their lack of progress. But it was easy to take heart in the fact that they’d be able to return to the same point in time. And he was enjoying the familiarity of their little life here. Tony had gotten a job at a local garage, kept making jokes Steve didn’t quite understand about how he was an actual mechanic now, and Steve had managed to pick up some freelance work drawing cartoons for the local paper. On the mornings when Tony hadn’t stayed up all night, Steve would start the coffee pot, making sure there was a fresh mug waiting for him when he dragged himself out of bed for his shift. And in turn, Tony would prepare dinner, because apparently cooking was a thing he’d learned in the past five years, more often than not making Steve’s favourites. They just knew each other now, things easy and familiar. Steve had expected to be bored, to be slowly going crazy with all the sitting around and waiting. But instead it was almost pleasant, like he’d been able to press the pause button on his life for one damn second.

Apparently Steve Rogers was the domestic type, who knew?

And then, of course, there were the other ways that Steve was starting to know Tony. Over the past few weeks, Tony’s teasing ogling had turned a little less… Teasing. Several times now, Steve had caught Tony staring at him when he thought Steve wasn’t looking, his gaze soft and heated and wanting in a way that made Steve squirm. And his comments on Steve’s body had an edge to them, a bit of truth to the words that hadn’t been there before.

And, well, the house wasn’t big. Steve wasn’t going to pretend that he hadn’t heard Tony jerk off on multiple occasions, that he hadn’t strained his ears to listen for the whisper of his name on Tony’s lips, that he hadn’t then jerked himself off with a little more noise than he would normally, picturing Tony do the same. Maybe it was just the fact that it was only the two of them here together, but Steve couldn’t escape feeling that there was something building between them.

***

The day had ended up being scorchingly hot, and Tony had picked up an extra shift at the garage, so Steve had cooked dinner. He’d never really bothered to learn to cook properly -- Tony liked to joke that his taste buds had been so ruined by Depression era food that not even the serum could save them -- but he could manage a few staples. He’d burned the first attempt at cheeseburgers, but the second set were better, and all the chaos was worth it when Tony shuffled into the kitchen, looking exhausted, only to inhale deeply and then positively beam.

“Steve,” he declared, still in his mechanic’s coveralls as he slumped into one of the kitchen chairs with a cold beer in his hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.”

It was fully dark by the time they finished their meal. The windows and the kitchen door were wide open in the hopes of catching a breeze, and the sounds of the crickets outside filtered through the house. The heat hadn’t dissipated at all with the disappearance of the sun, giving everything a hazy, dreamy feel. Tony had unzipped the top half of his coveralls, leaving them hanging around his waist with only a threadbare white muscle shirt covering his chest. Steve kept having to look away but couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from drifting right back. Those coveralls were his number one weakness right now; he’d had multiple filthy fantasies about peeling Tony out of them.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Tony muttered, knocking back the last of his beer. His legs were spread on the chair, posture loose and easy, and Steve watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“You could go and change,” Steve pointed out, even as his dick screamed at him to shut up, that was the last thing he wanted.

Tony sighed. “Yeah, but then I’d have to move,” he complained, offering Steve a grin. “Anyway, it’s my turn to do the dishes,” he added, not seeming to care that he’d just negated his last point entirely.

“No, hey. You've had a long day,” Steve said. “I’ll do them.”

Tony hummed, considering. “You wash and I’ll dry?”

“Done deal.”

Washing the dishes with Tony was one of his favourite chores, and tonight was no exception. They alternated between companionable silence as they worked, broken only by the gentle splash of water as Steve rinsed another dish, and easy chatter, nohing of importance, just dumb jokes and mindless anecdotes.

“So then,” Tony concluded, giving a glass a half-assed swipe with his dishcloth and putting it away mostly wet. Steve thought about calling him on it, but didn’t. “It turned out that he’d somehow wired the radio to the headlights? And every time they came on, the radio would turn off. That’s why it wouldn’t work at night.”

It wasn’t even that funny of a story, but Tony’s laughter was contagious. Steve turned to smile at him, and something in his chest caught. Tony was grinning, face lit up with humor and a hint of anticipation as he stared back at Steve. He had a lock of hair falling over his forehead, curling in the hot summer air, and he was still wearing those damn coveralls, biceps on display. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Steve let the dishcloth slip into the sink and curled a soapy wet hand around the back of Tony’s neck. He had a brief moment to notice Tony’s tiny shiver at the water on his skin, and then Steve leaned in and kissed him. Tony’s lips were warm and soft and slightly parted, practically inviting Steve to deepen the kiss, to suck gently on his upper lip. Tony made a soft noise in response, barely more than a huff of air, and all of a sudden Steve realized what he was doing.

With a start he pulled back, almost immediately missing the touch of Tony’s skin beneath his fingers. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he burst out, staring at the floor and pressing his fingers gingerly to his own lips, like he could hide what he’d done. “I don’t know what that was. It’s just the heat, and, and… You…”

Stomach twisting with nerves, Steve chanced a glance up at Tony, expecting him to be upset, or angry, or even hurt for some reason. But instead Tony was just staring back at him with a soft, pleased smile on his lips. “It’s okay, Steve.”

And sure, he probably just meant that he was forgiving Steve’s lapse of judgement, Steve knew that. But he could also be giving Steve permission, and so he leaned in, kissing him again. And when Tony didn’t shove him away, only sighed against his mouth and pressed his palms against Steve’s abs through his tight, white-t-shirt, Steve deepened it once more, pressing his tongue past Tony’s lips to taste him. His hands shifted to grip at Tony’s hips, thumbs sliding over the bare skin where his shirt didn’t quite touch his coveralls, and he was only half-aware of turning them until he had Tony pressed back against the counter, Steve looming over him and holding him in place.

They were both breathing hard by the time he pulled back again, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at Tony. His hair was more mussed now, though neither of them had touched it, little strands curling around his neck and ears. His lips were red and swollen, eyes dark and heavy, and he was still giving Steve that soft smile. He tilted his head a little, squinting like he was trying to read him, and then he grinned.

“Close the door, Steve.”

Steve blinked at him, wondering if he was somehow so horny for it that a little kissing had completely fried his brain. “What?”

Tony laughed softly, the sound sending something warm and pleasant furling through Steve’s stomach -- though that may have been helped by the way that Tony slid his hands up Steve’s chest, dragging over his tight nipples in the process, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

“Shut the kitchen door, Steve. So we can go to bed.”

Steve nodded, a little dazed, and reluctantly let go of Tony’s hips. He didn’t know if Tony meant to go to bed because if they’d reached this point it was time to call it a night, or to go to bed, but he moved over to the kitchen door. He could feel Tony watching him with every step, his gaze heavy on his back and setting Steve’s nerves into hyperdrive. He shut the door firmly, the click of the lock seeming thunderous in the weighted silence of the room. Swallowing thickly he turned back to Tony.

“So, uh…” His voice sounded strange to his own ears and he trailed off, not sure what he even wanted to ask. Tony seemed to know though, giving Steve an amused smile. He held out his hand toward him.

“Come on, handsome.”

Steve moved back across the room, and curled his fingers around Tony’s. There were calluses on Tony’s hand, dragging against his own smooth skin, and Steve shivered at the sensation. There was a soft huff of laughter from Tony and then he was tugging gently on Steve’s arm, leading him down the hall toward their bedrooms. It felt hopelessly domestic, and something that had nothing to do with sex tugged at his heart. They didn’t speak, not even when they reached Tony’s bedroom door. Tony didn’t hesitate, his hand still clasped around Steve’s as he pulled him inside, and Steve was helpless to do anything but keep following.

Tony led him over to the side of the bed, angling himself to face Steve as he sat down beside him. Steve’s breath caught as Tony locked eyes with him, running his hand lightly over his chest before he curled his hand in the cotton of his t-shirt, tugging at him gently until they were kissing again. Steve let himself melt into it, hyper-aware of every point of contact between them as heat flooded through his body. Steve let his hand slide over Tony’s ribs and the two of them tipped back against the mattress until they were lying side by side, sharing kisses so sweet they almost ached. One of Tony’s hands came up, running through Steve’s hair, and he shuddered against him, pulling back to look at Tony with heavy eyes.

“Tony, what…” Steve tightened his hand against Tony’s waist, not wanting him to pull away. “What are we doing?”

Tony huffed out another soft laugh, shifting closer until his chest was pressed to Steve’s. “I think that’s kind of obvious, Cap,” he told him, voice low and rough.

Steve whined softly, his hand clenching against Tony’s side before he forced himself to loosen his grip. “What… What about Pepper?” he asked, because he couldn’t not.

But Tony just smiled, unperturbed. “Don’t worry about it. We have an understanding,” he told him vaguely before pressing in closer. Steve could feel their lips brush against each other, unbearably intimate. “Just relax, Steve,” Tony hummed. “I want this. I think you want this too, right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice rasping over the word. Tony beamed.

“Then don’t worry about anything else.”

Tony kissed him again, soft and slow, and Steve let himself sink into it, everything that wasn’t Tony’s lips on his fading from his mind. Tony shifted against him, pushing himself up on one elbow so he could press Steve onto his back, leaning over him. He moved his hand up under Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve gasped a little, abs flexing at the touch of his cool fingers. Tony grinned against his mouth, tugging at his lower lip.

“There we go,” he hummed. “God Steve, you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” He pushed at the fabric, movements getting a little sloppy. “Come on, gorgeous. Let me see you.”

Steve felt hot all over, could feel his cheeks flushing red. He pushed himself up far enough to haul his t-shirt off over his head.

“Oh yeah,” Tony breathed. “There we go.”

Steve rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his fond smile. “You know, you have seen me shirtless before,” he pointed out. “This morning, even.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, but he sounded distracted, eyes locked somewhere around Steve��s nipples. “But it’s different now.”

Steve arched an eyebrow, peering down his chest skeptically. “I didn’t run that hard,” he told him, voice teasing.

Tony shook his head. “You’re not different. It’s just… Knowing I actually get to touch you, get to have you?” He visibly shuddered at the thought, and the idea of Tony wanting him that much sent something hot and squirmy rolling through Steve’s body.

“Tony, fuck,” he muttered, hips rolling up as he yanked Tony back down on top of him. Tony made a startled noise that shifted to groan as he ended up with Steve’s cock pressing into his hip.

“God,” he breathed, breath hot on Steve’s skin. He dragged his teeth over the tendon in his neck. “The things I wanna do to you.”

“Please,” Steve moaned, sliding his hand down Tony’s back to squeeze at his ass through the coveralls. “Whatever you want, anything.”

Tony grinned into his neck. “Whatever I want, huh? Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you, Cap.”

Steve opened his mouth to offer some kind of retort, but bit out a string of curses instead as Tony’s thumb found his left nipple, rubbing over the pert flesh. Tony was barely touching him, just flicks of his fingers and teasing little brushes of skin on skin, but every point of contact was setting Steve on fire, feeling like it was on the cusp of too much. He let his eyes fall shut, hands clenching periodically over Tony’s ass and side as his cock throbbed in his shorts.

“Tony, god, please. I want…”

“What?” Tony asked, and his voice was thick and rough. Steve opened his eyes again to see Tony staring down at him hungrily, biting down hard on his lower lip. “What do you want Steve?”

“Please,” he whined, dragging his hand back up to Tony’s hips to hold him in place while he rocked his hips up against him. “Wanna… Touch. Please.”

He could feel the hot air of Tony’s breath as he laughed against his neck, and then he slid lower down Steve’s waist, sucking the nipple he’d already been teasing into his mouth. Steve didn’t even try to hold back his shout as Tony bit down on the tender skin. His body arched up into the touch, nearly unseating Tony entirely.

“Christ,” Tony muttered. “You’re so fucking sensitive.”

Steve whined as Tony’s warm heat left his body, but when he opened his eyes in protest, Tony was grinning at him as he stripped off his tank top. Steve let his eyes drag hungrily down Tony’s chest, noted the way he flushed a little in response, and then scrambled to arch his hips and kick his shorts off down his hips. Tony was doing the same with his coveralls, and distantly Steve felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance to peel him out of them himself. But then his cock was springing free, resting hot and hard against his belly, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from curling his hand around it, groaning in relief.

It took him a minute to realize that Tony had stopped undressing, staring at Steve’s cock with heavy eyes and his lips parted. “Holy shit, Steve,” he ground out. Then he was kicking off the last of his clothes and moving to lean over Steve again, covering his hand with his. Steve gasped at the sensation -- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone else touching him, and this was Tony -- and his cock grew heavier in their shared grip. “Fuck, Steve.” Tony bit down on his earlobe, hard, tightening his grip around him. “You gotta let me taste you, honey, please.”

There was suddenly nothing that Steve wanted more and he whined a little desperately, catching Tony’s lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss before Tony moved down his body, kissing sporadically over Steve’s chest as he went.

From the first flick of Tony’s tongue against the head of his cock, Steve was lost. He rolled his head back, knowing if he tried to look at Tony now he’d last all of five seconds. He panted up at the ceiling instead, body thrumming and over sensitive. The hot summer air was giving everything a dreamy, dazed feel, not quite real, and he gave himself over to the sensation, losing sight of time and what was happening, but hyperconscious of how good he felt, the way his skin lit up everywhere that Tony touched him. His mouth was hot and wet, swallowing around Steve over and over again, until he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Steve had no idea how much longer it had been when he felt his balls draw up tight, his orgasm suddenly right there. He gave a ragged moan, patting clumsily at Tony’s shoulder.

“Tony,” he mumbled, and he hadn’t thought he’d been screaming, but his voice sure sounded like it. “Gonna…”

But Tony didn’t pull off, just swallowed him deeper. Wondering if maybe he hadn’t understood, Steve dragged his eyes open only to look down and find Tony staring back at him intensely. There was a look in his eyes like making Steve feel good was the greatest thing he had ever accomplished, and Steve couldn’t hold on any longer. Clenching his fingers in the sheets hard enough to ache, Steve spilled down Tony’s throat, cursing when that only made Tony swallow harder around him.

When he’d finished, Steve collapsed flat on his back on the mattress, body limp and ears ringing. For a long moment he was only aware of his own breathing, his heart racing in his ears. And then he felt Tony shifting against him, opened his eyes to see Tony on his knees beside him, jerking off frantically. He was running his mouth again, but Steve couldn’t seem to focus on what he was saying, only catching bits here and there as Tony rambled about how gorgeous he was, how hot that had been, how he couldn’t wait to do it again, and again, and again. Steve couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the sight of Tony’s cock moving through his fist. He was thicker than Steve had expected, the tip wet as it poked between his fingers over and over again. He wanted to touch him, taste him, but he could seem to find the energy to do much more than reach up, mirroring Tony’s earlier movements and curling his hand over Tony’s, feeling the rhythm of him jerking himself off.

Tony’s eyes snapped to his, his face looking almost comically startled, and then he was making a strangled noise before he came across Steve’s chest. It seemed to go on forever and then he was collapsing onto his side, not quite touching Steve but close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin anyway. It was like second nature for Steve to shift his arm, stroking his fingers feather light up and down Tony’s back.

He drifted for awhile, everything still having that hazy, unreal feel. At some point he’d been aware of the mattress shifting, Tony getting up only to return a few moments later, giving them both a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth. Distantly Steve had thought that maybe he should get up, return to his own room, that maybe Tony wouldn’t want him actually sleeping beside him. But before he could make a move, Tony had tossed the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and flopped down beside him again, this time slinging an arm across Steve’s waist. His skin was hot and sticky, but Steve couldn’t bear the thought of getting him to move.

He must have slept, because suddenly he was awake again, aware of the crickets chirping outside the open bedroom window and Tony breathing into his neck. His breathing was steady and even, but somehow Steve knew he was awake anyway. He wondered what he was thinking of, if he was just riding the high of an amazing orgasm, or if he was thinking of home, of his family. That made Steve think of Pepper again, wondering what exactly ‘an understanding’ meant, and he felt guilt twist low in his stomach.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was soft but alert, and Steve drew in a deep breath.

“What’s your ‘understanding’ with Pepper? Did you, I mean… You didn’t just say that so we’d keep going, did you?”

Tony made a disgruntled noise and pushed himself up with the arm not draped over Steve. He stared down at him, eyes slightly narrowed, although he didn’t actually look offended. “What, you think I was so thirsty for it that I lied so you wouldn’t stop me from cheating on my wife?”

Steve winced; put like that, it sounded really bad. “Well, no. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly putting much effort into stopping you, I just…” He trailed off, giving him an awkward, helpless shrug. Tony blinked at him a moment longer and then flopped back down on the mattress, fingers drawing idle patterns over Steve’s abs. The silence dragged out between them and Steve was just about to do something to break it when Tony spoke, the words mumbled against Steve’s shoulder.

“Pepper and I aren’t actually together anymore.”

Steve blinked. “Oh,” he said, a little dazed. He didn’t know what he had been thinking, but that was the last thing he had expected. “Oh shit, Tony. I’m sorry.” He felt his heart sink. “Was it… Was it because you came back? To help us with the whole time travel thing, I mean?”

“What? No! God no, nothing like that! Pepper was actually the one pushing me to do it. No, we, uh... actually... haven’t been like that for awhile.”

He sighed, flopping onto his back and slinging an arm across his eyes. Steve immediately missed the weight of his arm across his middle, but he curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck instead and waited patiently for him to figure out what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “After I came back from… From space, things were different. It wasn’t anything she did. It probably wasn’t even anything I did, it was just… Different. Whatever we had wasn’t there anymore. She knew it too. But then she told me she was pregnant, had been before that squid-faced fuck arrived even. And I…” Tony pulled his hand away and rolled his head so he could look over at Steve. “I don’t know, Steve. For the first time since we lost, I remembered what hope felt like again.” He smiled, completely different from how he had smiled at Steve earlier, but just as warm. “She wasn’t even born yet, but Morgan was already saving my life. I wanted that baby more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life.” He snorted, his smile going uneven. “Even my dad’s approval,” he added, and Steve winced but Tony’s eyes were dancing. “So Pep and I talked and talked and talked and talked, and eventually we decided… Fuck it. We may not have been in love anymore, but we still love each other. We’re always gonna love each. And with all the shit we’ve been through together, we figured we could totally platonically coparent a baby.” He shrugged. “It’s been working out pretty fantastic, actually, but uh… Yeah. We haven’t been together in like five years so… You’re off the hook.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. “That’s good.” He knew he should have felt better knowing this and he did. But he also felt weirdly bad about it. He thought every day about what had happened when Thanos’s minions had arrived in New York, replaying it all over and over. This felt like just one more thing that he could have stopped, like maybe if he’d just been there they could have ended it before Tony ever went into space, and maybe Tony and Pepper would still be together.

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course, but Tony seemed to know something was up anyway. His eyes narrowed a bit before he rolled back onto his side, hand resting comfortably on Steve’s stomach like it belonged there. “Hey. Whatever you’re thinking? Stop. This really is for the best, I’m not lying. We still love each other, and it’s working really well this way. Honestly, I’m not sure what would have happened if we tried to do this as a marriage, but I don’t think it would have ended well. And anyway, the past is the past Steve. There’s no point in worrying about it because we can’t go back and change it.”

Steve gave him a look. “We’re living in 1970, Tony.”

“Okay, but we’re not changing the past, we’re just… Borrowing from it. Well, if you ignore the idea that we’re making minute changes in time just by our ongoing existence here, and that the longer we stay the further those ripples will travel. But we’re not actively trying to change the past, and anyway, all of that should be negated when we eventually return the stones to their original point, so…” He waved his hand, giving Steve a sheepish smile. “Point being, I think we both did things we regret. Going over and over them isn’t going to help anything. Just gotta… Stop thinking about it and move on.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, combing his fingers absently through Tony’s hair; it was oddly soothing. “I don’t think I can,” he admitted quietly. He gave a short laugh. “Tactical mind. I keep running through scenarios in my head. All the things I could have done differently, all the ways it could have played out instead… I can’t stop it.”

Tony lifted his head to stare at him, eyes wide and horrified. “Still?” he demanded. “You’ve been carrying that around for the last five years? Jesus, Steve.” He shook his head, blowing out a long breath. “Okay, well. I know I can’t make that stop for you, but I can promise you that even if we can’t change the past, we are going to make up for it. We’re going to fix this, Steve. You and me, together.”

Steve nodded, curling his arm tighter around Tony’s back as something in him eased a little. “Together,” he repeated quietly.

***

Steve woke up the next morning alone in Tony’s bed. The air filtering through the window was already hot and humid, promising another sticky day. For a brief moment he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t woken up with Tony beside him, but he could smell bacon and coffee drifting down the hall from the kitchen, so he slid out of bed, hauling on the boxers that he’d left on the floor and padded down the hall to the kitchen.

Like most mornings, Tony was working at the kitchen table, but he looked up as Steve came in and his expression went a little dazed as he took in Steve’s barely dressed state. “Uhh.” Tony made a punched out noise before he seemed to get himself under control, offering Steve a broad grin.

“Morning, Cap,” he said, voice sounding a little raspy like… Well, like he’d been sucking cock. Between that and his obvious appreciation of his body, Steve felt his dick twitch in his shorts. He shifted a little, giving Tony a bright smile in return.

“Hi Tony,” he said, moving over to the coffee pot. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he poured the mug and when he turned back around it took a minute for Tony’s eyes to drag back up from he’d been staring at his ass. Steve couldn’t help his pleased little grin as he sat across from Tony at the table. “Any progress?” he asked, nodding at the legal pad covered in Tony’s weird shorthand.

Tony shrugged, but he didn’t even glance at the paper, eyes trained on Steve. “Same as usual,” he told him, taking another swallow of coffee. “Surprisingly hard to hack a security system that hasn’t been automated yet. And they’ve really stepped up their shit.” He eyed Steve, tilting his head a little. “You going for your run this morning?”

Steve shrugged, glancing down at his mostly naked state and grinning ruefully. “I mean, I might put on a few more clothes first, but yeah, probably…” He eyed Tony, who was ogling him again. “Why?” he asked, voice a little lower.

Tony slunk a little lower in his seat, eyes going dark as they locked with Steve’s. “I don’t have to go to the garage until a little later this morning, since I worked late yesterday and everything.” He grinned then, eyebrows waggling. “Wanna do a different kind of cardio this morning?”

They didn’t actually make it to the bedroom this time, only getting as far as the kitschy sunken living room before Tony got his hand in Steve’s boxers and the two of them collapsed to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Tony jerked him off right there, whispering filthy things into his ear until he came. Steve had barely caught his breath before he was shoving Tony onto his back so he could return the favor.

Afterward, they both lay splayed out on their backs, panting up at the ceiling. Steve hummed, vaguely aware of Tony squirming around beside him. “I never noticed that crack on the ceiling,” he said. “Should have asked for a discount from the realtor.” Tony giggled, right in his ear, and Steve realized that all the squirming had been so he could move closer to Steve, pressing up against his side despite the heat and slinging a leg over his hip.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time we get trapped forty years in the past and have to buy a house together,” Tony promised, giving a contented little sigh against Steve’s neck. It was strangely comforting having him close like that, leaving Steve feeling settled. He curled his arm around Tony, rubbing over the bare skin at his hip.

“It this… A thing now?” he asked.

There was a long moment of quiet from Tony before he answered, like he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s… Whatever you need it to be, Steve,” he settled on at last. Steve wasn’t entirely sure where that left them, but for now he would take it.

***

Tony whistled to himself as he rooted around in the engine of the Dodge Challenger, in a ridiculously pleasant mood. He was genuinely enjoying working as a mechanic; it was good hands-on work, helping to keep his brain calm, but there was a simplicity to the older engines that he had always preferred. There was a reason he’d kept so many classics in his own garage. It was more than that too though. Since he and Steve had started sleeping together, things felt brighter somehow. The urgency that had been plaguing him since they had fucked up their first time heist, the sense of panic that he had been trying to hide, it had all faded. He was still worried, of course, still working on a new plan, but it didn’t feel so hopeless now. Between the two of them, he knew they’d get it done.

Tony had moved to grab a wrench from the workbench when Joe wandered out of the office, leaning against the doorway. “Barbecue and beers at my place Saturday night. All the fellas are coming. You in?”

“Oh.” Tony couldn’t help his grin. He still wasn’t entirely used to his coworkers seeming to just like him, not wanting anything from him because, as far as they knew, he didn’t have anything to offer. “Yeah, sounds great!”

He turned back to the car, but Joe didn’t move away. Tony could feel his eyes on him, and he turned back, eyebrows arched expectantly.

“You know…” Joe hesitated another moment. “My brother never married. His roommate comes with him to family dinners and for Christmas. Charlie’s a great guy, and he and my brother have a really nice life. No one here would give you grief if your… roommate came along for a drink, is all I’m saying.”

Tony blinked, not quite sure what to do with that. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I will… Let Steve know.”

Joe gave him a warm smile then, followed by a quick pat on the back before he headed back into the office without another word. Tony turned back to the car, utterly nonplussed.

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” he grumbled at the engine, but even as he said the words, his stomach twisted a little and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Pepper yelled, ‘liar!’ He blinked down at the mechanics beneath him, thought of how they ate dinner together every night, how long they could spend talking and laughing together, the animosity left over from the last few years faded entirely. How the sex they had could just as often be considered, well, love making, as much as he hated that particular phrase. Tony felt something catch in his chest. “Oh shit, is Steve my boyfriend?”

When he laid it all out like that, like an equation to be solved, it definitely sounded like a relationship. But even bigger, when he focused on Steve’s face, really pictured his smile and his laugh, he felt something in his belly go warm and soft. He didn’t know how he had missed it before, but it was the same feeling he used to have when he thought of Pepper, and Rhodey before that. Tony groaned, sinking forward against the edge of the car.

“Oh god,” he muttered. “I’m in love with Steve Rogers.”

The rest of his shift passed in a blur, Tony caught off guard and a little overwhelmed. The thing was, when he really stopped and thought about it, these feelings weren’t exactly new. In fact, he had a feeling that even while he’d been completely in love with Pepper, and even when he and Steve had been at their absolute worst, there’d been a part of Tony still a little in love with Steve. The way they’d worked so intuitively together, even when they were at odds, the way they’d be so in sync over the weirdest things… there’d always been a spark there. And now alone together, able to talk, and relax, and really take the time to understand each other, he supposed it made sense that that spark would grow into something real.

When he finally wandered in the front door, mind still a bit of a wreck, Steve was standing in the kitchen, cooking them dinner, which looked like it consisted of panned fried hamburgers and… Tomato soup, for some reason. He must have heard the door, but he didn’t look up, humming to himself as the meat sizzled in the frying pan. His hips were swinging a little in rhythm to whatever song he had playing in his head, and his shoulders were loose and relaxed, carrying exactly none of the tension that Tony typically associated with Steve. The whole scene was hopelessly domestic, and Tony wanted nothing more than to step up behind Steve, wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the back of his neck, just to see the squirmy little ticklish shoulder shrug that he would get in response. He was totally gone for the man.

“Aw, fuck,” Tony muttered to himself.

Steve did look up at that, looking over at Tony with a bright smile. “Hey Tony.”

“Hey honey, I’m home,” he answered automatically, getting a chuckle out of Steve before he frowned at Tony a little.

“Hey, you all right? You’re looking a little stressed.”

Tony waved him off, stripping off the top of his coveralls and noting the way Steve’s eyes went dark at the sight -- it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Steve had a thing for this particular look. “Just a long day,” he reassured him, hopping up on the counter beside Steve. He made a grab for some of the cooked burger and got his hand swatted with the spatula for his trouble. “Wow, domestic abuse,” he deadpanned.

Steve rolled his eyes. “What a drama queen,” he retorted, equally dry. “They’re almost done, just a few more minutes. Then we can sit down, and you can tell me allll about your long day.” He looked back up to give Tony a lecherous look. “Or not, and we can just skip to the part where I make you feel better,” he offered, waggling his eyebrows and looking pleased when Tony snorted.

Tony was quiet a moment, watching Steve’s hands manipulate the food. “Hey, Steve?” he said finally. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Tony fluttered his eyelashes at him, not wanting it to come across too seriously, in case he was reading everything all wrong. “Are you my boyfriend?” he sing-songed.

Steve choked on his own spit, coughing for a minute, but when he’d caught his breath back he was grinning like an absolute idiot. “I mean, I guess, sure,” he offered. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him; he knew Steve well enough to know that the flush on his neck said otherwise.

“Okay, I’ve maybe thought about it once or twice,” he admitted sheepishly. “We can be, uh… Boyfriends, if you want. Like you said, this is whatever we want it to be. I know these are weird circumstances, but if we want to, we can call it boyfriends for now.”

For just an instant Tony felt his smile freeze on his face, but he masked it quickly, leaning forward to give Steve a sloppy kiss on the cheek before he could read the look in his eyes. “In that case, boyfriend, call me when dinner’s ready. I’m just gonna wash up.”

He slipped off the counter and headed down the hall for the bathroom, adding an extra wiggle to his walk to make Steve laugh. But once he hit the bathroom, he shut the door behind him and leaned back against it with a sigh. Boyfriends for now pretty much said it all. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. These were wild circumstances. There was nothing wrong with Steve wanting to take a bit of comfort where he could find it. And if Tony had been hoping for something more, that could stay between him and the bathroom walls.

***

They didn’t talk about it again, at least not in so many words, but they talked about everything else under the sun and that was somehow even better. Steve loved sex with Tony, really truly did. Just a look from the other man could set him shivering, heat spiking up and down his spine. Tony seemed to take special delight in finding all the ways he could make Steve fall apart, surprising him over and over again. Steve had all but given up his own bedroom, spending his nights with Tony instead and they’d spend hours lying there sometimes, Steve splayed out and feeling like he was slowly going out of his mind as Tony kissed and touched and teased every square inch of his body.

But afterwards, when Steve had come more times than he’d thought possible, when Tony’d had his fill and would slide off Steve to stretch out beside him instead, for Steve that was almost better than the sex. They’d talk well into the early hours of the morning. Steve had told Tony how desperately lonely he’d been for the past five years, how nothing he’d done seemed to ease that ache inside him. Tony talked about Morgan, how completely he missed her, telling story after story about how brilliant she was already, putting him to shame, but also how creative and sweet and kind. He’d sound awed when he talked about her, which had led to confessions about how his own father had been. Steve had been horrified, hands tightening around Tony like he could somehow make up for it. And then next night, when he told Tony how proud he was of him for letting the bullshit die with Howard, that even from the brief interaction he’d witnessed, he could tell Tony was an amazing father, Tony hadn’t bothered to hide the way he’d choked up a little.

Nothing was off the table (except, perhaps, their exact feelings for each other, but neither of them brought it up so it was fine), the darkness, and the heat, and the fact that they were the only two here who could understand their situation making it easy for secrets to spill out. Maybe it was just the fact that they were caught in a bit of a limbo, that deep down Steve knew that nothing they did here would really matter once they got back to their proper point in time. But his time with Tony was easing something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was aching, was making him feel whole again. He wanted to get back, to make things right, of course he did. He just also couldn’t help thinking that he wouldn’t mind being stuck here with Tony just a little longer.

They slowly settled into even more of a routine than they’d had before. They ate dinner together every night, talked about their day before they’d slink off to bed together. Some nights they wouldn’t even do anything, just sprawl out on the bed, touching despite the heat until they drifted off to sleep. They went grocery shopping together once a week, and one day Tony came home with a second hand badminton net that he’d found somewhere. Steve had never played badminton, but they set the net up anyway, and Tony had showed him how to play. There were more barbecues, with the guys from Tony’s work, mostly, but there were a couple for the paper that Steve worked at too. Nobody seemed to look askance at Steve bringing along his roommate. Maybe it was just an extension of fighting side-by-side for so long, but having Tony with him here just felt right in some kind of visceral way that Steve couldn’t put a name to but that he loved anyway.

***

Steve was once again going over the Fort LeHigh plans that they had managed to cobble together, when the front door slammed open. “STEVE!” Tony hollered at the top of his lungs.

“I’m right here,” Steve answered, turning to meet Tony as he heard him rush up the hall. “What’s wrong?”

But even as he asked, Tony came into view, an enormous smile on his face, and it was pretty clear that there was nothing at all wrong.

“What?” he asked again, because there still had to be a reason that Tony was home hours early, grinning like an idiot.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Tony told him. “Do you know what tonight is?” he added, even though he knew perfectly well that Steve didn’t. “Planet of the Apes comes out. In theatres!”

Steve blinked at him. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Tony repeated incredulously. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Steve cracked then, laughing. “Tony, you’ve seen that movie more than a hundred times. Which I know because you’ve made me watch it a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but this is different,” Tony insisted. “It’ll be in theatres, Steve.”

“You’ve done that before, too,” Steve pointed out. “Remember? That 45th anniversary theatre showing or whatever? I distinctly recall you and Colonel Rhodes talking about it.”

Tony just shook his head. “It’s different,” he said again, making a face at Steve. “Just hurry up and get dressed, you damn dirty ape.” He waggled his eyebrows, making a show of staring at Steve’s bare chest; he hadn’t bothered getting redressed after his run. “I’m taking you out.”

And really, Steve was helpless to resist that thrilled look on Tony’s face. And even though he had to pinch Tony several times to keep him from whispering the lines along with the characters, it was a very enjoyable evening. They’d sat at the back of the theatre, Tony claiming it was because Steve would block the view for whatever poor asshole got stuck sitting behind them, but halfway through the movie, when their shared popcorn was gone, he curled his greasy fingers with Steve’s, rested their joined hands on Steve’s knee, and snuggled into him a little, resting his head against Steve’s shoulder. He could smell the faint, pleasant scent of Tony’s shampoo, and couldn’t resist turning his head a little to press his face against the soft curls of his hair. He pressed a soft kiss against Tony’s scalp and in return received a soft little content sigh from Tony.

Abruptly Steve realized that, for all the activities they’d done together, they hadn’t been on an actual proper date before -- and that’s what this was, whatever Tony’s original intentions had been in dragging him out.

Settling a little more comfortably against Tony’s side, Steve decided that was something he was going to fix immediately.

So the next morning, after Tony had made their customary Saturday morning pancakes, and they were sitting around the kitchen table, pleasantly full and content, Steve curled his hand around Tony’s. “So listen,” he said, doing his best to ignore the way Tony gave his hand a heated look before glancing up to meet his eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and we’re under a lot of stress, with working and trying to find a way out of here and everything.” Admittedly, it wasn’t his best excuse; the stress was real, but he felt a step removed from it, and was pretty sure Tony did too. Even from a purely business perspective (if you could consider the Avengers a business), this had definitely become the easiest mission he’d ever been on. Tony seemed to agree, giving him a mildly skeptical look but gesturing for him to continue. “So I was thinking that it probably wouldn’t hurt for us to plan to take a break regularly,” he said, feeling his cheeks starting to glow. “And I had a really fun time last night, so I was wondering if you’d let me take you out tonight? Repay the favour?” he added, all in a rush.

Tony tilted his head at him, curiously, and then he was beaming bright and wide. “Steve. Are you asking me out on a date?”

Steve shrugged, but he was helpless not to return Tony’s brilliant smile. “I mean, I guess?”

And just like that, Saturday night date night was born.

Steve knew he shouldn’t get too complacent, that getting used to this was only going to end in heartbreak. Tony had said this was whatever they needed it be, just whatever it took to get them through. The implication was pretty clear that once they got back home -- and they would, eventually, Steve had to believe that or else what were they even doing anymore -- things would go back to something like normal. He probably wasn’t doing himself any favors, giving himself this glimpse of what they could really have. But he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t going to be able to forget it either way, so he figured he might as well enjoy it now.

***

Tony actually happened to think vegetables were delicious. But there was something about the very specific look of consternation that Steve would get every time he found another box of poptarts or gummy candies or whatever hidden in the cart that Tony couldn’t get enough of. He was feeling punchy today for some reason, snickering to himself with everything he managed to slide into without Steve noticing. There was a good chance that Steve was just humoring him, since Tony couldn’t imagine anyone actually sneaking something past the man, but then again he’d worked with the STRIKE team for almost a full year without realizing they were literal Nazis, so who knew? Either way, he was having a stupid amount of fun with it.

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned as he realized that under the loaves of bread and packages of pasta, Tony had managed to fill the entire bottom of the cart with bags of jumbo marshmallows. “You are literally five years old,” he added.

Tony just shrugged, giving Steve a sugar sweet smile, and Steve fought back his own laughter.

“Make you a deal,” he offered. “You can keep three bags of marshmallows if you stop adding in everything else you see.”

“Oooh.” Tony eyed him; he didn’t actually care about the sweets, but tormenting Steve was its own brand of delightful, especially now, when Steve took it as the gentle teasing it was meant to be, didn’t get his back up about it. “Throw in some chocolate and graham crackers, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Steve stared blankly back at him. “What do you need graham crackers and chocolate for?”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony hissed. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know what s’mores are?”

Steve didn’t even last a full second before he was breaking, snickering to himself. “You’re so gullible sometimes. I may not have ever had them, but I do know what a s’more is, Tony.”

Tony frowned, tilting his head before shaking. “Okay, nope, I give. I can’t tell -- are you telling the truth, or are you still fucking with me?”

“The… Truth?”

“You’ve really, honestly never had a s’more before? How is that even possible??”

Steve gave him a fond eye roll, even as he added the extra ingredients to the cart. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I wasn’t ever actually a boy scout. There weren’t any camping trips in 1930s Brooklyn. Where do you think I would have melted the marshmallows? On the heater? Admittedly, I spent a lot of time in the woods during the war. But that wasn’t exactly a romp with campfires and ghost stories, what with the whole hiding from the Nazis and Hydra thing.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Tony muttered. “But after that? You’ve really never had s’mores since? With the team or something? Nat seems like she’d enjoy a good s’more.”

Steve just shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. Never had ‘em.”

“Well, that changes tonight, Rogers. We’re having a bonfire.”

Tony had added three packs of hot dogs to the cart -- Steve would eat them, he knew -- and after they got home, relegated him to the kitchen while he got everything set up in the yard. Steve had looked skeptical, but when Tony finally called him out to where he had a bonfire burning brightly and a blanket spread out on the ground (because some of us have minor grass allergies, Steven), he looked impressed.

“Wow. Tony, this is… Really nice.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he grumbled, offsetting his complaint by wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“No, I’m not,” Steve said, holding Tony against him a moment longer when he started to pull away. “You just… Don’t really seem like the camping type,” he added tactfully.

Tony snorted. “I’ve camped! … Once… Okay, a camper I am not. But Rhodey and I used to have bonfires on the beach when we were at MIT, and I was the designated fire starter. And when I was a kid, Jarvis used to let me help set up the fireplaces in the old house. I don’t know why, that was one of my favourite things.” He hummed, quiet and contemplative for a moment, and then pulled away to grab a package of hot dogs, slamming them into Steve’s chest. “Now grab a stick, Rogers, and start roasting.”

They sat out there for hours, cooking, and talking, and laughing. The sun had faded and the stars had come out long before Tony pulled out the s’mores ingredients, the two of them getting in a sticky mess as they squashed together the sweet treats.

“So?” Tony asked when they were full and satiated and sitting back on the blanket. He arched an eyebrow at Steve. “What’s the s’more verdict, Captain Handsome?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, I think they’re kind of overrated. I prefer the marshmallows alone,” he told him, popping one of said marshmallows, unroasted, into his mouth.

Tony blinked at him. “Overrated?” he repeated incredulously. Then he saw the way that Steve was grinning at him, lips twitching up in a smirk. “You are such a troll,” he grumbled. “I’ll show you overrated.” Without any further warning, he launched himself at Steve, feeling a little gratified at the almost inaudible grunt that Steve made as he took his weight. He knew Steve could take him easily, especially when he didn’t even have an Iron Man suit, but Steve pretended otherwise for a minute, letting Tony knock him back as the two of them rolled around on the blanket and then into the grass, each trying to get the upper hand.

It didn’t take long before their movements shifted, less wrestling, more sliding up against each other with purpose. Tony could feel his cock thickening in his pants, sparks of pleasure going through him every time Steve’s hand would slide over his skin just right. He shifted a leg, getting it between Steve’s knees, and when he pressed up he could feel Steve hot and hard against him, the feeling made better by the sharp, needy little gasp that he made in response. They ended up with Tony spread out on top of Steve, the two of them rubbing off against each other as they shifted and rolled in the grass, stifling their noises against each other’s skin so the neighbours wouldn’t hear. Tony had his hand shoved down Steve’s pants, jerking him off with quick, sharp motions, and his face buried in Steve’s neck. He could smell wood smoke in his hair, and when he pulled back a little, he could see the starlight reflected in his eyes before they clenched shut as Steve came over his hand. Steve lay there for a moment, panting, and Tony took a moment to look him over in the dim light from the fire before Steve pulled himself back into awareness to roll Tony over onto his back and pay him back in kind.

It was up there with some of Tony’s best memories.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

***

They were at the grocery store again, goofing off and being idiots, probably laughing too loud, when all of a sudden Steve froze, going pale. Before Tony could ask him what was wrong, he was grabbing Tony’s arm and dragging him around the corner and down an aisle, leaving their half-filled cart abandoned in front of the cereal.

“Steve, what?” Tony finally managed to hiss as Steve pulled him past the baking supplies and then zig-zagged ridiculously through the produce section. He half expected Yakety Sax to start playing over the loudspeaker.

“I just… I saw someone I recognized. Like from the forties recognized,” Steve answered vaguely, aiming for the front door.

“Do you think they’d recognize you?” Tony asked a little stupidly, although his behaviour made the answer pretty obvious.

“Uh, yeahhhh,” Steve answered anyway. “I think so.”

They made it out of the building without being caught though, Steve looking over his shoulder as they headed down the street. He made Tony cross the road, turning down a side street they wouldn’t normally take, and he was just breathing a sigh of relief when they rounded the corner and were met with Peggy, standing there waiting for them with a furious expression on her face.

For a long moment everything went almost comically still, Peggy and Steve standing frozen, staring at each other, Tony looking back and forth between them in a mild state of shock. Then the anger seemed to fade out of Peggy all at once, shoulders sagging a little as she took a half step forward, making an abortive gesture like she was going to touch Steve’s chest before she remembered herself.

“It is you,” she breathed.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he had the chance he was interrupted by Tony, still staring at Peggy with wide eyes. “Aunt Peggy?!” he blurted out, because he knew Peggy had cofounded SHIELD, and he knew she had worked with his Dad, he just somehow hadn’t expected her to be here, looking almost exactly as he remembered her from when she’d come visit when he was growing up. She used to spend hours sitting with him, listening patiently as he explained the workings of all his machines and inventions. She’d always encouraged him, and he found himself getting choked up seeing her now.

And then he glanced over at Steve, saw the look on his face as he stared back at her, and Tony felt his heart sink a little.

Peggy had turned sharp eyes on Tony at his outburst, looking him over, but now she looked back to Steve and without hesitation poked him square in the chest. “Explain,” she told him. “How are you possibly here? And why is this man who looks exactly like Maria Stark calling me ‘aunt?’”

Tony would never fully understand how, but somehow Steve managed to convince Peggy to come back to their place. And then he sat her down, and told her everything. How he’d been found in the ice, how the avengers had formed, about Tony being her ‘nephew’ and also Iron Man, and then about Thanos, how they’d lost everything and were doing everything in their power to make up for it now.

The one thing he didn’t mention, Tony couldn’t help noticing, was the relationship they’d developed over the last few months.

Peggy took it far better than Tony would have expected. Although, he supposed, if she’d helped found SHIELD, she’d probably been dealing with far crazier shit than this for years.

“So if I’m to understand correctly, you two are from the future. And you,” she turned to Tony here, “Are my godson. And you used Hank Pym’s… science experiment to figure out time travel and come back here and get that cube that Howard found in the ocean. To save the world.” She drew in a long breath as Tony and Steve both nodded, waiting for her to process the information. “God, Hank is going to be impossible to live with when he finds out,” she muttered. She drew in a deep breath, smoothing down her hair -- a move Tony remembered from when she’d try to keep her cool with Howard when he was a kid -- and then looked back over at Steve. “I take it you two are responsible for the breach a couple months back?” She didn’t wait for their confirmation, the question rhetorical. “Well, I suppose once again it’s up to me to clean up your messes, eh Captain?”

The smile she gave Steve was a little dry, but fond and familiar in a way that made jealousy twist low in Tony’s stomach. But even worse was the way Steve smiled back at her, sheepish and full of so much history and love that it almost ached to see. For a moment Tony felt like he had disappeared from the room entirely, the two of them only having eyes for each other. Somehow Tony managed to act normal as Steve and Peggy made plans for when and where they’d meet and how they’d stay in contact, even though it felt like he was losing a little more of Steve with every word that passed between the two of them. And when Peggy had left, and Steve turned to him with the broadest grin Tony had ever seen, still looked awed and dazed and delighted in the wake of her presence, the smile Tony gave him in return was almost genuine. He waited until Steve had left the the kitchen, wandering down the hall for something, before he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and whispered a very quiet, very heartfelt, “Fuck,” into the empty room.

***

Tony wanted to go home. More than anything in the world he wanted to see Morgan again, missing his little girl a constant pit in the bottom of his stomach, even in his happiest moments. But being here with Steve was easy in a way his life had never been before, no stressors, no superheroing, no being recognized on the street… No end of the world barreling toward them faster than they could stop it. Now that they were close to going home, he couldn’t seem to appreciate the last few days they had here together, just he and Steve alone. They still talked, and fooled around, and did all the things they’d been doing before, but the time was passing in a blur. It didn’t help that Steve had been distracted since they’d found Peggy; more than once Tony had caught him staring into space with a soppy smile on his face. There was a growing feeling creeping through his stomach that he might be making the return trip solo.

And then he was out of time entirely, the two of them meeting Peggy in some back alley for the hand off. It had, she assured them, gone off without a hitch, but that wasn’t a surprise. Peggy had always been strong and brilliant, confident and capable. On some level it probably should have been weird that he was jealous of his aunt, but mostly Tony was just resigned to the fact that this was it. Peggy and Steve were staring at each other again, couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, and Tony felt like his heart was somewhere around his ankles.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you two… Chat,” he mumbled, uncharacteristically awkward as he took the two briefcases that Peggy had brought and headed for the main road, forcing himself not to look back at them.

In a weird twist of deja vu, he ended up sitting on the same bench where he’d found Steve on that first day, after everything had gone tits up. He sat there, staring off into space and thinking of a million things at once, and it hadn’t been a full half hour before a shadow passed over him and then Steve took a seat on the bench beside him, their thighs not quite touching.

Steve was staring forward, maybe trying to figure out what Tony was looking at but he hadn’t spoken, so Tony didn’t either. Eventually, though, he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, clearing his throat.

“You, uh… You don’t have to come back with me, Steve,” Tony told him, giving him an out. He felt Steve snap his gaze to him, heard him make a strangled sort of noise, but he narrowed his focus to a tree in the distance and kept going. “If you’re finally happy… We can do it without you. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. I know you’ve already sacrificed a lot, more than anyone ever should have to, really. You can be selfish, for once.”

He turned to face Steve then, because he really didn’t want Steve to stay, but he needed him to know that he truly meant the words he was saying. He had fallen in love with Steve, and because of that he couldn’t bear to stand in his way.

Steve was staring straight again, leaning forward with his elbows braced against his thighs, hands clasped together between his knees. He blew out a long breath, and Tony tensed, bracing himself.

“You’re right. I am selfish, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.”

Tony bit down hard on his bottom lip; expecting it didn’t make it hurt any less. But then Steve was turning to face him, a shy, hopeful smile on his face offset by the determination in his eyes.

“And no way in hell am I giving this up. Giving you up.”

For a moment Tony was actually rendered speechless. “You… what?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m in love with you, Tony. It’s as simple as that. And I know you said this was whatever we needed it to be, and maybe that means you don’t have the same kind of feelings, but --,”

“God no, are you kidding?” Tony burst out before he could even stop himself. “I was already half in love with you when I said that, and it’s just gotten... more since. I just… I know that extreme situations aren’t the most conducive to long-term relationships, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured, so…”

He trailed off helplessly and Steve chanced a quick look around before darting in to kiss him. It was quick, because it was still a public place in 1970, but full of love despite that. When he pulled back, Tony shifted his hand to curl over top of Steve’s, squeezing tight.

“What… What about Peggy?”

Steve’s eyes were dancing. “What about her? She’s married, Tony, happily so. I just… I wanted to see first hand that she was okay, and she is, more than. She’s moved on, and… And so have I.” He grinned then. “She did tell me I was an idiot though, if I didn’t say anything to you because she’d never seen two people more obviously pining for each other. And uh, then she threatened that if I didn’t treat her godson right she’d be bringing me a wealth of pain.”

“Oh,” Tony said faintly, but he was laughing then too. “Well alright then.” He leaned in to give Steve one more quick kiss. “I love you, Steve,” he told him, because it seemed important that he say the actual words. “Now let’s go home and save the world. Again.”

THREE DAYS LATER

Tony snapped back to consciousness all at once with a sharp gasp, blinking his eyes open. The first thing his gaze focused on was Pepper and Rhodey, standing at the foot of his bed with watery, relieved smiles, Pepper holding Morgan in her arms.

“Daddy!” she shrieked. “You’re up!” She started wriggling frantically, attempting to leap onto the bed and making Pepper wince.

“Morgan, sweetie, remember how we talked about how you have to be careful with Daddy for a bit?”

“I don’t know.” And that was Steve’s voice, sounding gruff, but when Tony snapped his head up to see him leaning against the doorway, he was beaming brightly and looking just a little smug. “I think he can take it.”

After solemn promises from Morgan that she would be careful, Pepper finally set her down and Morgan scrambled up on the bed beside him. With strength that he knew he shouldn’t have had, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight enough that Morgan protested a little. She smelled fresh and clean and like her apple honey shampoo, and it was quite possibly the best thing that Tony had ever smelled. God, he had missed her so much.

Morgan settled onto the bed beside him, telling him stories about everything he’d missed the past few days, everything she’d been doing with Uncle Happy. Tony did his best to follow along in his shell-shocked state, because the last thing he remembered was snapping his fingers, all of the infinity stones in his hand, and he was pretty sure that meant he wasn’t supposed to be here now.

Eventually it was decided that Tony should get some rest, and so with a final, clinging hug from Morgan, Pepper escorted her gently off the bed. Her hands shook a little as she closed them around Tony’s, leaning in close to place a soft kiss against his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered softly, a slight tremor in her voice.

They headed for the door but Rhodey lingered a second longer to lean in and give Tony a hug. “Gotta stop doing this to me, man,” he told him, and Tony could hear the tears in his voice, felt his own throat close up as he hugged Rhodey as tight as he could manage.

“I know,” he mumbled, burying his face against his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Rhodey pulled back just a little, enough so he could meet his eyes and give him a pointed look. “And sometime soon,” he added, “You are going to sit down and tell me exactly what the hell happened between you and Rogers while you were getting the Tesseract.”

Then he was moving away, leading Pepper and Morgan out the door with a hand on the small of Pepper’s back. Steve had moved out of the way to let them pass into the hall, but once they were gone he moved back into the room, coming to sit on the side of Tony’s bed now that it was just the two of them. For a long moment they just stared at each other and then Tony shook his head.

“Steve… What did you do?”

Steve shrugged, feigning casual. “Funny thing about spending so much time together. I knew exactly what you were planning with the stones. So I just stepped in and… Helped.”

Tony stared back at him incredulously, still half feeling like he was dreaming. “Right,” he said, voice a little faint. “Okay. And we’re alive and healthy and whole… How?”

“Uh, Carol brought a special something from somewhere. I didn’t catch the details; I was pretty fucked up for a bit too. But…” He gave Tony his best innocent, hopeful smile. “As you can see it did the trick.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered. Then he was lunging forward, practically crawling into Steve’s lap in his haste to kiss him. Steve took his weight easily, pulling Tony the rest of the way toward him as he wrapped his arms around his back, mumbling soothing words and stroking a hand over Tony’s spine. “You absolute idiot,” Tony gasped, allowing himself the comfort as he buried his face in Steve’s neck. “You could have been killed too. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, but his voice was rough and thick when he spoke. “I thought I told you, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.” He pulled Tony back so he could see his face, see how absolutely serious he was. “No way in hell am I giving you up.”

@tonystarkbingo @not-close-to-straight

#tonystarkbingo2020 #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #time travel #endgame fixit #friends to lovers #canon divergence #romance #fic #my fic #lemon

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butterfly-winx · 4 years

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its probably the helia stan in me but id love to read an origin story! idk if youre planning one for all of them but i really like your worldbuilding so id read them! and i know others would too! 💞 (also that fairy sketch was beautiful and if youre planning on it id love to hear more about him 👀)

Aahh ugh, I don’t actually have a lot fleshed out for Cyanox, except that he is the Guardian of Prometia and neutral to a fault. And also unintentionally the reason for why/how Layla gained the ability to modify Sirenix into Crystal Sirenix to adapt to cold and high pressure environments.

I am far too disorganised to make one collection post for the backgrounds of all characters I messed with, so I guess, here goes nothing. *cracks knuckles* Buckle in for the ride! (content warning for death and lethal illnesses)

Helia was born on Lynphea in a middle sized settlement in the moderate-warm Eastern Forests of Lynphea. I talk about the zones, culture and dangers of Lynphea here, so I don’t want to repeat myself too much, but Helia’s village was much closer to the borders of the Death Zone the virus has claimed for itself than what would have been advisable. Back then, they thought Viaj would exhaust the surrounding natural resources and its people would move on long before the spread of the virus would become a danger to them. Oh how wrong they were. All it took was the change of the wind one summer.

Helia had been only five and then some and the world was still too vivid in his eyes, lights filtering through leaves a spectacle every day he accompanied one of his caretakers on a simple errand. He was the one who found the earliest warning sign, a fungal growth on a long leaf of gras that was the manifestation of the plague befalling its plant hosts. Not quite comprehending what that meant in his young age, Helia struggled for a long time with guilt about the terror his discovery brought, wishing he would have never played in the prairie. Like that would have avoided anything.

The inhabitants of Viaj actually gained a head start through his discovery though that potentially spared other communities, however it couldn’t help theirs. They quarantined immediately, drew up a magic barrier to protect everyone from the airborne spores that carry the virus from plants to humans. But doing so they gave up hunting and gathering and were entirely reliant on the rations the other communities would send with the quarantine workers. Though even those trickled to a stop when the first person fell sick with the cough and the tell-tale black spots formed on their mucous membrane. People saw no use in wasting resources on people who were damned to die. The best they could do now was limit travel to the edge of the Eastern Forest and set more scientists on recalculating the projected spread of the virus.

Lynpheans practice a philosophy of “live and let die” not hanging onto things beyond their lifespan, so this was seen as neither cruel or unusual, but show me one person who is truly prepared to die such a horrific, slow death in order to upkeep the natural order. The people of Viaj didn’t want to die, and they certainly didn’t deserve to die. But people fell like flies, until about three months later only Helia, Naoqi, the last adult, and Tsilla, the very last baby born in midst of all that, were alive. Naoqi cared for Helia and the baby as best as he could and in doing so became a replacement parental figure in Helia’s eyes. He did everything he could to make the horrible experience slightly lighter to bear for the children, but when the magic barrier keeping the wind away fell, there was little he could have done to stave off the inevitable.

Helia was left alone, with a not even five moth old baby and no way of feeding himself or the baby. With nothing else left, he braved the forest and looked for the quarantine workers who were no doubt overseeing the area, which marked the last time Helia ever walked in the forests of his home. The quarantine workers were more than surprised by the tenacious boy with a baby in his arms and finding out he was still alive after what they thought was final exhaustion has set in.

The next thing after that that Helia actually remembers is waking up on Magics with Saladin greeting him, introducing himself as a distant relative. The truth was a lot more complicated than that. The quarantine workers have taken Helia to the nearest hospital to treat him for the effects of starvation, because miraculously, the disease had still not taken hold of him after five months of exposure. Hermetically locked in a wing of the hospital, he was the most prised and most dangerous person and study artefact on the whole planet. His comatose slumber was watched from behind plexi glas and every then available humoral test was run on him to find out why he of all people had proved to be immune. If he was immune at all.

Meanwhile Saladin arrived on planet as he heard the news of the demise of his hometown, of his family. Even back then he had not been the pride of the planet and his relationship with his family had been strained because of the wars he had chosen to be involved in. All of that didn’t matter the instant lives were on the line and Saladin wanted nothing more than one last exchange of letters he would never get to make everything alright again. No power in the world would ever grant him that, but having powerful friends in the right circles granted him something else. Information, that a young Viaj boy was still alive in the Epidemiology Research Centre. He may be the future, the solution to all of their problems with a DNA hiding the secrets to immunity. Saladin immediately inquired, dug deeper demanding to see the boy, but the Council denied him visitation rights. He had to strike an underhanded deal with the co-leader of the research project under a false name to find out Helia wasn’t even awake, but held in a magically induced coma for observational purposes. The scientist talked on and on about the possibilities and what they would do after they go the genes needed but Saladin blew up at that point. How dare they treat this boy like an object, like his loss wouldn’t be felt by anyone, should one of the procedures go wrong. Like all his life could hold from now on was an ultimate sacrifice for the benefit of the many. He wouldn’t even be able to comprehend that if told. With Saladin blowing a fuse, the research centre blew up too and he fled the planet that night with an unconscious Helia in his arms.

So what felt like a night of knocked-in-the-head-by-a-horse sleep to Helia was actually close to four weeks in real world time. He has no concrete memory of what Saladin saved him from, but enough peripheral perception of what transpired planetside to make sense of the ramifications. Technically, Helia’s DNA is public property of the Lynphea Council, and technically both him and Saladin have an arrest warrant hanging over their head for the destruction and property damage caused. If Helia were to ever set foot on Lynphea again (or even go to a country that has an extradition treaty with them) he would be taken back to the Research Centre to be dissected to the smallest molecules until he yielded answers.

While Helia was able to grow up in Magics in relative safety, the virus was still wreaking damage on Lynphea. Saladin (and to a lesser extent Helia) made the incredibly difficult decision to reject the experimentation on Helia and thus deny the population of their home a potential treatment to an otherwise lethal infection. It is an incredibly heavy burden and no day passes that they don’t question the rightness of their choice.

Helia can certainly appreciate the moral conflict now, but as a child he was much more difficult to manage. The switch from a huge nurturing family to one primary carer to rely on was harsh on Helia, who was already traumatised and needing love and affection. Saladin did the best he could, but running a school and otherwise being a Universe-wide known hero didn’t help. After they grew close on the tail end of Helia’s childhood, they explosively drew apart during his tweens, Helia not able or reluctant to understand the restrictions Saladin placed on his life.

First, he was unwilling to share as much about Lynphean culture and way of life as Helia wished to know, saying that he wouldn’t be able to apply it there on Magics anyway. The deeper reason for that is more likely buried in his resentment for Lynphea rejecting him as harshly as they did after he helped save the Universe from the Ancestresses, but Helia of course knew nothing of that. Then when he moved over to adapting to life on Magics “in the Magics” way, he begged to be taught magic for which he had developed a budding talent. Saladin refused again for related trauma reasons. He didn’t want Helia to wield a power that could potentially make him a weapon in someone else’s crusade. Being his only personal student would only paint a target on Helia’s back.

Helia was having none of that, fiercely objecting to the treatment. He had his own trauma to deal with. Like death by illness. (People falling ill was a lasting trigger he has been continuously working to overcome, but the first time Saladin came home with a cough Helia immediately worked himself into a panic attack so severe he couldn’t stop vomiting and had to be taken into a hospital himself. ) He shouldn’t have to shoulder the repercussions of Saladin’s problems too!

People who say old teens and their wilfulness are hard to deal with, haven’t met twelve year old Helia yet. To think he actually mellowed out by the time he hit Red Fountain. In any case, Helia and Saladin weren’t really speaking civilly with each other anymore by the time Helia met Krystal. (More on her side of things here) Krystal, ten and absolutely blind to seeing obstacles, offered Helia her books on basic witchcraft and with that the opportunity to take his magic learning into his own hands. After all, sorcery required a lot of detailed instruction, but witchcraft was available to any odd fool who could set up a passable reaction equation. It took half a year of trials and encouragement for his efforts to yield a result and for Krystal and Helia’s friendship to bloom. It took Saladin much longer than that to catch on to Helia’s secret tinkering. The old man should have suspected something to be up after their disagreements magically disappeared after Helia and Krystal met twice. The aftermath was ugly and lead to Helia and Krystal reluctantly parting ways.

Helia was inconsolable an dedicated a large part of his life to making it as difficult for Saladin as possible. His grades dropped, his art got angry and choppy and he had to be escorted home by peace keepers for having snuck into places he shouldn’t have been in. Year fourteen and fifteen of Helia’s life have been by far the most difficult to deal with with no improvement in sight. Under pressure from his school and Saladin to choose a path for higher education after his year nine exams, Helia thought it would be most spiteful to chose...nothing. He would simply stop going to school at 15 years of age and just become whatever. Maybe a full-time artist or a busker. “Hah, that’ll show Saladin!”- he thought, but he severely miscalculated.

Saladin had often threatened with making Helia enrol in his school if he didn’t behave and Helia never though he would make good on his words until he was dropped off at the main entrance with all his bags like the other freshmen filtering in through the gates. Being the headmaster, Saladin allowed Helia some liberties, trying to demonstrate to him that he shouldn’t see this as a punishment, but as an opportunity to further his life. Cue Helia’s biggest pièce de resistance, showing just how much he didn’t think so. As mentioned a few asks ago, he was given the liberty to chose where he lived and which team he chose, but not like that goddamit! He took shameless advantage of the loose wording Saladin used and hopped between rooms and teams completely ignoring conventions. He was the bane of the school, found on the roof, in supply closets and in the middle of hallways. Teams feared him, because they knew if Helia was assigned to them they might as well have been one person short, his flaky nature making it hard for them to work with him. Codatorta wrote as many warnings for Helia in that one year as he did in his whole career before that. Students at Red Fountain tended to be disciplined and dedicated to becoming Specialists, but Helia was the absolute antithesis to them. At the end of the year no amount of Saladin’s half-hearted excuses could save Helia from the overwhelming force of the teaching staff getting him sacked. Not that Helia minded, though. It was exactly what he wanted.

Saladin more or less gave up on him then. If he wanted to be on his own then fine. Saladin would help him with finding an own apartment and give him his first moth of rent, but after that Helia could go and find himself a purpose in the world alone. Fine. Fine. Alright!

It was not alright at all, but it was buried under a very thick layer of “I’ll show ya” which made Helia want to live his best liberal artist life. He enjoyed creating as much art as he wanted, but he craved social contact and being engaged in something with a common goal, so he started getting involved with local pacifist groups. He had always preached a path of non-violence, which was about the only thing that had been ingrained in him from his Lynphean upbringing. There he started to expand his horizon beyond what his gut feeling taught him about pacifism and got into reading theory seriously. He was surprised how many of those books shared around had originally belonged to the Red Fountain library and even more so that they have ben written by the founders of the Red Fountain Cavalry. And that was when Helia bust down Saladin’s office door.

“All of this theory was in the school’s library the whole time!!?? And all everyone was ever talking about was warfare!! Why was I never told the best pacifist philosophers of the century were all Red Fountain members???” “You never showed up to any of the philosophy lectures! How am I to blame?” A deep breath from Helia, re-evaluating all of his 17 years of life choices. “Dada Saladin, you have to let me back into your school please.”

And Saladin refused. To let him back without repercussions that is. Helia had to prove that he took his education seriously and was ready to commit by taking the entrance exam like everybody else to earn his place at the institute. He scraped the bottom of the scoreboard with his first results, but took the first year foundation course with a mile long stride. He was allowed to skip quite a few modules and ended up in the same year as the protag specialist boys with quite a reputation to his name. In the process of reacquainting himself with the school and its philosophy, he learned humility, respect, and when to keep his head down and mouth shut. The upperclassmen from his original year group barely believed he was supposedly the same person they got to know as an absolute menace . There are many rumours about twin brothers, brainwashing and Saladin’s terrifying magic might turning him into this new person.

Helia has come an extremely long way becoming the well-tempered and balanced person known from the show’s timeline. It is almost as if he compressed a lifetime of angst into three years, thus min-maxing his character development coming out more adult in the end at 18 years old than many people at 30. He lived through a lot of things and it shows in how he behaves and what he cares about. He is a passable fighter, but his main aim is always to protect and to avoid conflict if possible. He is a trained negotiator for that purpose and prefers to act as tactical support for his team. It all changes however once Riven and Sky both decide to quit the team leaving Helia, Brandon and Timmy with a very difficult decision on how to go on after that.

(Aand we have arrived at present day for my AU timeline with this. I hope you made it this far, I‘ve never written this much for a tumblr post before)

#winx club #winx helia #asks #see this is why I can't make a nice neat summary post about my headcanons because as soon as I start talking it becomes a word vomit #helia #butterfly fic #Anonymous

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justaniche · 4 years

Text

Never Have I Ever...(accidentally) let someone meet Rebecca

heres the link to chapter 2 on ao3

let me know what you think and happy reading!

word count: 4,622

His talk with Devi shifted from the forefront of Paxton’s mind soon after he got home. Once he finally got home and was ready to collapse, Rebecca found her way into Paxton’s room knowing of his arrival despite his exhausted attempt to hide it and with her came several and I mean several sketches of clothing she had drawn and that meant Paxton had to wake up and fast.

One time, Paxton, following a long day, had fallen asleep an hour into one of Rebecca’s ventures to bounce fashion ideas off of him and he had to work for weeks to make up for it. He loved his sister to death, but he was so tired he couldn’t help it and now he learned to keep energy drinks in their house for moments just like this one. In a movement perfected with repetition, Paxton grabbed a bang energy drink from his side dresser and down it while Rebecca pulled drawing after drawing out of the roll she brought with her.

Paxton hadn’t gotten in as late as he had in the past today so Rebecca had time to show him a good portion of her ideas before they had to start their movie so that they could get some sleep. Rebecca showed him a golden dress with a sequence pattern going down the left side, a take on a plaid skirt, paired with a shirt, she even shows him shoes and accessories to go with each individual outfit among many more. Becca wanted to be a fashion designer and hoped to soon apply to fashion school but she had to complete her portfolio first and did not hesitate to enlist Paxton’s help to do this.

After Becca finished showing Paxton all she wanted for the night, they settled onto the couch to watch the movie that had caught Becca’s eye 2 days prior, After The Ball . The movie included an identity switch, a ball, and a touch of romance. It's a regular Cinderella tale with a twist, the protagonist was an aspiring fashion designer! Paxton could evidently see why it caught Rebecca’s eye. The movie ended rather quickly with Rebecca and Paxton engulfed deeply into the story although the latter tried to hide it. With the energy drink’s buzz leaving Paxton’s mind, his exhaustion followed and he was yawning despite himself. He and Rebecca exchanged goodnights and went to bed.

The next few days went off like normal, school was still new off of summer’s high and students and teachers alike needing time to bounce back, school work was nonexistent. The classes consisted of syllabi and classroom rules and expectations. This caused widespread boredom but fortunately, on this day, lunch approached rapidly and with lunch starting, Paxton found himself in the center of it all with his group of friends inside what students called The Hotpocket.

Lunch unfolded as it always did, after they finished whatever lunch they had that day the soft hum of their light discussions broke out into full-fledged banter and laughter. Accompanying that laughter was parts of the aforementioned group messing around and sometimes engaging in ridiculous activities. Today that activity was Trent and Marcus, another close friend of theirs, battling with their lanyards. They were being dramatic as ever holding their IDs like nunchucks and swinging them about. Paxton was entangled in a lighthearted conversation with Devin, stopping on occasion to eye Trent and Marcus and laugh at their behavior.

Paxton was looking away when he heard someone exclaim “Ow. Goddamn it”. The entire Hotpocket looked up to cringe at the scene that was, apparently, a girl getting, accidentally, slapped in the face with a lanyard. Paxton’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Did I just hit you?” Marcus asks tentatively

“It’s cool” The reply from the girl, Devi, came rather fast considering her reaction from just moments ago. She adjusted her grips on her backpack straps, “Hey, Paxton, can I talk to you?”

Paxton turned towards his friend, giving him a pat and chuckling through an ‘i’ll be back’ while shifting up to stand. “Okay,” his face straightened as he followed Devi out of earshot from his friends.

“So I thought I would follow up on our conversation from the other day and ask if you wanted to hang out later?” The sentence was cool leaving her mouth, none of the ever-building anxiety leaked from her words.

Paxton had to think quickly to what Devi was referencing but it came to him milliseconds later and he blinked through his realization, “Oh, oh, you mean, uh, like, have sex?” he gave a soft smile hoping to give off a comforting vibe despite the twinge of uncomfortableness brewing in his gut. “Sure, uh, maybe” he paused to think “after school today at my place?”

Devi’s calm facade seemed to shatter and the word tripped from her mouth, eloquence long forgotten, “Today?” Her mind blanked with panic for a split second and the words TOO SOON flooded her brain. She hadn’t expected this.

“Yeah.”

“That’s super soon, which is great.” Devi had a feeling she was more so trying to convince herself than anyone else. “Soon is great, it’s just…” an answer popped into her head, “I have orchestra after school today, so I can’t.” she had to stall, to prepare herself but couldn’t for too long. It was a miracle that Paxton had agreed in the first place. If she messes up he could change his mind so she mindfully finished “But maybe later this week?”

Paxton wanted to laugh but held it in, he opened his mouth to answer but just exhaled. His charming smile ever-present as he answered while backtracking returning once again to the Hotpocket effectively ending the conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He turned, striding away.

“Okay, great” Devi called, “We’ll compare calendars tomorrow or something. We’ll figure it out. Later, skater.”

Paxton had already begun to join Marcus and Trent in their makeshift game when he registered Devi’s continued speech, “What?” He asked but she tucked her head, shamefully, and walked away.

~~~

Succeeding lunch, the day sped up considerably. With the commencement of the last class of the day and everyone going to their lockers and then out the door, Paxton was joining them. Today there was no swim practice so Paxton was, thankfully, headed home early. That was his thought until of course his English teacher thought now would be a great time to talk to him about his supposed “lack of participation”. This normally would be something that Paxton would care about and attempt to contemplate but not now, not today when he was getting an early day to relax and who knows what else with this extra time.

It was probably 15 minutes max, but to Paxton, it felt like a lifetime. He was at his car door about to get in as someone called him from his right.

“Hey. I can actually come now. The scheduling conflict I had cleared up.” Devi stated, hands gripping her bookbag’s straps.

Paxton didn’t miss a beat, a split second earlier and he would have cut her off. He found himself buzzed with some semblance of happiness for the company. “Cool. Get in.”

“Okay.” Devi smiled and hurried t0 the passenger side of the car and climbed it as Paxton got settled and they set off.

When they got to Paxton’s house, he got Devi inside before his phone rang and he left the garage to answer the phone. The conversation was rather brief and as it was concluding Paxton re-entered the garage still speaking Japanese into his phone. He hung up.

“Sorry. That was my grandpa,” Paxton clarified, “Can I get you a drink?” he was already making his way over to the mini-fridge he kept in the garage before she could answer. He knew how these matters, if not handled carefully, could easily tip from comfortable to awkward if he didn’t mind sharp, and that was the last thing he wanted with Devi.

“Sure. Do you have any chocolate--” Devi stopped, rather abruptly, when Paxton spun around to face her, beer in hand. She grabbed it despite herself. “Ah. Beer. You read my mind.”

“All right. Well, my mom will be home soon, so...better get to it” Paxton gave a half shrug before stripping off his shirt from the bottom. If there was anything about himself that Paxton was securely confident in, it was his physical appearance. Being that Paxton was a swimmer, he could not afford to think about how others would feel about his appearance at every opportunity. Giving into potential insecure would only throw him off mentally during swim practices and comps, Paxton resolved himself a long time ago that it would help no one. So he tended to, or at least tried to, not think about it every time he showed a part of his body. Plus it’s not like any girl he was interested in who got far enough with him complained, thus taking off his shirt was no big feat and he did so without hesitation.

Devi was sort of freaking out at this point but was doing a great job of not showing it. That was until Paxton’s shirt came off. The beer she was sure she had a good grip on slipped and hit the floor with a thud. Paxton’s eyes followed it, slight confusion on his face but he didn’t comment.

“Oh.” the urge to explain the state of his chest took over, “Just so you know, I have to shave my chest for swimming, so the stubble might, like irritate your skin a little bit.” He lifted her limp hand to his chest for emphasis moving her hand to feel, he looked down following their joined hands, and then looked up making eye contact with Devi. He gave a small smile and she gaped.

“Oh, God”

Her mouth opened and closed for a few moments before her brain reconnected with her mouth. She had just touched the chest of Paxton Hall-Yoshida! Fab and Eleanor were gonna flip! But wait, her mind was now at red alert at the close proximity between her and Paxton that she’s just now processing. And so she did what any normal person would in her situation, she panicked.

“You know what? I just remembered. I have to go home,” She snatched her hand back like it was on fire leaving Paxton surprised and his hand hanging in the air as she patted his shoulders for good measure, “because I have a package coming that I need to sign for.” she nodded trying to regain her composure, it wasn’t working.

Paxton nodded and chuckled as he and Devi switched positions in her attempt to get to the door, he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Word?”

“Yeah, It’s medication for my mom’s...polio.” What the heck Devi? Polio, really?

Paxton could only nod through Devi’s hidden meltdown.

“Yeah, so…” She slowly retreated to the door through her word vomit when she misstepped and a sharp pain spread at the base of her leg, “Ow. Goddamn it!”

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” Paxton’s stance broke as he rushed forward to the injured girl. She leapt back before he could reach.

“Yep, yep. I’m fine” Devi’s aim to reassure fell short as Paxton’s concerned eyes looked closer.

“Are you sure? You’re...bleeding.” he gestured to her leg

“It’s chill. I’ll see you tomorrow” humiliation ate at Devi’s very being. She had majorly fucked up, in various departments and she was out the door before Paxton could utter another word.

Paxton was extremely bewildered and it showed on his face. With Devi gone the garage fell silent. Paxton stepped back from the door, considered his options. He could go after her or stay home and like she said, see her the following day. He weighed it and decided against trying to catch up to her. She really did seem like she just wanted him to think she was fine and to leave it alone, he wanted to respect that. His gaze swept the floor before it landed on the theorized perpetrator. It was sharpish, in a box on the floor, and sticking out in his direction; one of Paxton’s old swim trophies. He crouched down with a sigh as he picked up the award and rolled it around in his hands examining it. At the very tip was a trace amount of blood, where it had punctured Devi’s cafe. Paxton could not help but think about how strange that was, try as he had to make the whole interaction go as smoothly as possible there was no predicting that and therefore no thwarting it. With the knowledge that there was nothing Paxton could do to help the situation with Devi gone, Paxton shrugged his shirt back on and proceeded with his day.

~~~

Contrary to what Devi said and to what Paxton thought, Paxton did not see Devi the entire school day. He found himself expecting to see her somewhere but always fell short when she was nowhere to be seen. The end of the day came and once again no practice, coach explained it as a new regime he was trying out, sorting out on days and off days and said it would vary until he decided what worked. Paxton was restless after two days and decided on a run after he got home.

He was finishing up his 2-mile run when he saw Devi pacing in front of his house, he ran up behind her. “Sup,” he panted, her response was a scream as he had seemed to startle her. He smirked faintly, “I’m just finishing up a run,” Paxton began. He wanted to get her talking, particularly about why he found her in front of his house talking to herself. He was vaguely relieved to see her but ignored that.

“Okay, cool” she crossed her arms, her demeanor chill. “So do you need to stretch or something, or are you good to just go into your garage and have sex with me?” The words marched from her mouth clear and confident. Let us take a minute to appreciate both the awkwardness of that sentence and applaud the boldness of it.

“Um…” Caught off guard Paxton frowned deeply into his shrug, “I’m good to go to the garage.” She struts passed, her head held high, and as soon as she did Paxton swiftly lifted his shoulder to sniff his armpit, reassuring himself that he did in fact not smell. He pivoted and followed her inside.

Unfortunately, the blind confidence coming from Devi’s words did not translate well into action. That is how they found themselves sitting on Paxton’s couch, Devi’s arm along the back of it, their vicinity too close to not be at least talking and the tension was building. Paxton looked to her for a move and Devi jumped on it.

“So, here we are…” she weirdly stroked from his collarbone down, the tone from outside back on, “about to pleasure each other.”

Paxton did not know if he should be weirded out by her word choice but Devi was proving, with every meeting, to be not like any of the other girls he tends to interact with. He nodded vaguely but when she tapped his nose twice he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from coming together, what exactly was happening?

“But before I can rock your world, I need to freshen up.”

Paxton couldn’t decide if Devi did not see anything wrong with this whole situation or if she was choosing to ignore it, that decision would dictate how he would respond so he needed to figure it out and soon.

“Can you point me in the direction of the ladies’ room? I wouldn’t wanna pee in the middle of doing it.” One point for ignoring the problems, zero for not seeing them. There’s no way she didn’t realize how that sounded coming from her mouth but her face gave no emotion but certainty.

Paxton wasn’t sure if he should respond to the second part but did anyway although the words came slowly full of apprehension, as he lifted his finger in the direction of the bathroom. “Yeah, that’d be bad. First door on the right.”

“Thanks” With that Devi was gone.

Paxton breathed a sigh of relief, he couldn’t think properly with her here. She came back on a new day seemingly ready to have sex despite yesterday’s debacle. The odd opening word choice might have been endearing had it not been followed by a tense silence and more questionable sentence phrasing. It was quickly bordering on uncomfortable but awkwardness was a natural occurrence in sex so this was not a real reason to bail. He just had to wrap his head around her way of speaking and this would be fine. Paxton repeated this in his head, this will be fine.

Several minutes had gone by and Devi had yet to return. Paxton got up from his position on the couch to find her, she really should not have gotten lost. He checked the bathroom to no avail and stopped confused then he continued down the hallway when he heard voices coming from Rebecca’s room.

“I’m Devi. It’s nice to meet you.” Paxton turned glimpsing into Rebecca’s room to see her shaking hands with Devi. Irritation started to build in Paxton’s chest.

“What are you doing?” He directed at Devi but didn’t wait for a response before addressing his sister, “Becca, I thought you were at work.”

Paxton walked deeper into the room, “I switched with Lisa. She gets her braces off tomorrow.” Rebecca explained, satisfied with the answer he received, Paxton turned back to Devi.

“You said you were just going to the bathroom. What the hell?” The irritation was quickly turning to anger at Devi having met his sister. If people knew about Rebecca things could turn ugly, fast.

“Wait. Are you mad at me or something?” The disbelief Devi felt was clear on her face, what was the problem here?

Paxton simply didn’t respond, the budding anger brewing substantially at her attempt to play coy. He walked clear out of Rebecca’s room without a word, his expectation was clear, she was wearing her welcome thin, and she was to go with him outside.

“Why are you sneaking around my house and talking to my sister?” Paxton was comfortable to let his annoyance into his voice with his sister out of earshot.

“Was I not supposed to? I didn’t even know that you had a sister.” Her voice was soft as she tried to get him to understand the genuine misunderstanding but it was far from working and Paxton was too cross to see reason right now. Come on Devi, read the room. Paxton saw this as a jab,

“Oh, you think I’m hiding her now, because I’m embarrassed of her or something?” It was definitely a question but he certainly did not want a response. Seeing someone with his sister sent Paxton into a sort of panic mode. Devi was going to go to school and tell everyone all about his sister and hell if he wasn’t going to get in a lot of fights defending her.

“No, I didn’t say that,” Devi stated, slightly defensive at the attack.

“Okay.” He didn’t believe her for a second as he looked away trying to gather himself, he wanted her out now. He shook his head as the words came out his mouth spiced with venom, “I don’t think this is gonna work. All right, you should probably just go.”

Devi felt the air forced from her lungs leaving her speechless, she knew there was nothing more she could say and honestly couldn’t find the words either way. She gave him one last look before leaving.

Paxton went inside, not stopping to see her go, so many emotions flowed through him but most of all he was scared. Scared of what people would say and all because he didn’t think to make sure Rebecca wasn’t home before he invited Devi inside. He was scared because he loved his sister and could not deal with people and their ignorant words and dumbass opinions but he was helpless. Paxton could not stop people from talking, couldn’t stop Devi from sharing. And Paxton hated feeling this way, the powerlessness ate at him because he was meant to always take care of his sister. So he bundled the emotions up into something he could control, aggravation, and directed it at the person who triggered the emotions, Devi.

~~~

The day passed and Devi and the situation with Becca plagued Paxton’s mind. He was upset, yes but he was also rational enough to know that he couldn’t completely blame his feelings on Devi but he was at a loss. He had accused her and gotten mad entirely too quickly. He now felt stuck between his emotions and the urge to talk to her, to say what? Paxton wasn’t sure as of yet but he couldn’t speak to her, he didn’t know how to.

~~~

Morning classes were a bore especially considering Paxton’s mind was not exactly on task so he found himself once again immensely thankful for lunch’s social reprieve. Paxton was surrounded by his friends and he could almost forget that something was bothering him. That was until the person Paxton was consciously avoiding called to him.

“Paxton, can I talk to you?”

The liveliness among the group died briefly before light laughter spread between them. Paxton’s energy dropped but it did not climb with the rest of his friends’. Paxton looked over, face straight, his eyes met with the expectant Devi. She sort of looked how he felt but he couldn’t compel his body to make a move. His eyes dropped from hers unable to maintain the contact with shame stewing over his behavior. Without a word to Devi, Paxton turned to his friends and continued to converse.

~~~

There was a chance although slight that Paxton held on to that he would not run into Devi during lunch. That did not work out. There was no chance that he could go to their shared history class and not be at a close distance seeing as he sat in front of her. He sat in front of her trying to focus but his mind was racing and he was dumbfounded.

He still didn’t know what to say. The reasons to simply ignore her compiled, her meeting Becca, his anger, his reaction, and now him disregarding her at lunch. He was making this worse instead of better, he knew this but he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. He hated being mean to people, he hated to leave things unsettled, but this time was different. He couldn’t get a grasp on the words that would make this better, so he chose not to say anything at all.

~~~

That night Paxton laid down, progressively his pent up energy was coming to a head and it was coming out as restlessness. Once he had gotten home, Paxton ran until he was spent but still he was unable to relax. He had done a series of activities including various workouts, watching movies, and cooking but nothing was untangling the knot he felt in his chest. The complete stress he felt at being a jerk to Devi. Paxton had to do something. He felt okay at first but it has gotten so much worse in such a short span of time.

He had to talk to her, and not tomorrow, no he needed to apologize tonight, right now. So he grabbed his keys and started to walk to Devi’s house. Thinking about it in a way that makes sense, he would have reached her sooner had he driven but Paxton wasn’t thinking. He was going totally on emotion and that was causing him to act rashly. He made it to Devi’s house relatively quickly and he rang the doorbell before processing a thought. When his finger released the doorbell, he took a breath that finally felt like it entered his lungs. Within moments a woman was answering the door,

“Hello?” she began, despite the door being wide open. She appeared suspicious of the unknown young man who stood at her door at this hour. “Can I help you with something?”

“Um...yes I am sorry to bother you but is Devi home?” He realized at that moment the strangeness of his request and how it could be taken considering when he had shown up.

“Hold on” The woman disappeared, leaving her door open and Paxton again was left to wait.

Paxton took a breath to help calm himself then turned to face the door upon hearing the shuffling of footsteps and was relieved to see Devi at the door.

“Hey”

“Hi”

The greeting was short as they both caught sight of Nalini Vishwakumar, Devi’s mom, leaning along the top of the staircase, eavesdropping not so subtly. Devi could not have her mom listening in. Devi did not know what this conversation would entail but given the nature of her past talks with Paxton, her asking him to have sex with her after all, she could not have her mom hearing that. She would very possibly kill her.

“Let’s talk over here” Devi offered, walking outside and shutting the door behind her. Once they were at a safe distance, Paxton let what was bothering his mind spill out.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for yesterday. I’m just kind of protective of my sister. She used to get bullied pretty bad...even by people I thought were my friends. I guess I’ve always been a little too protective. Like, when my parents first adopted her, I used to sit by her bed every night with a Nerf gun. That’s why our cat only has one eye now.” Paxton finished slowly, slightly embarrassed that a funny story had turned into him admitting to mistakenly hurting their family cat.

Paxton did not know why exactly he was sharing so much with Devi but it felt nice. It started to seem to Paxton that he did not think about every word when it came to Devi. It was weird but it was nice to share this with someone.

“Paxton, I would never make fun of your sister. She’s super fashionable and way cooler than me.” They were sharing a laugh at that blatantly honest remark when Devi’s mom knocking on the window interrupted them.

“No laughing.” She warned

“Mom!”

Paxton had to interject, recalling something Devi had said in his garage, he lifted his hand in greeting. “I’m so sorry about your polio, Doctor Vishwakumar.”

“What?” Nalini shot back but she didn’t care for an answer and that showed when she let the curtain fall.

“Well, thanks for the apology. If we’re cool, should we meet in your garage tomorrow?” Devi’s tone was hopeful but Paxton had other plans. He made a face.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore. It just got weird, you know?” He felt a lot better and his voice took on a relaxed feel.

Despite the disappointment Devi felt, she played it off, she scoffed “Yeah, sure. I was gonna say the same thing too.”

Paxton smiled and Devi gave a small one back, “Okay.” His words felt final and they knew their conversation was coming to an end. “Well, uh...I’ll see you at school.”

Paxton, pleased with the way the talk went, began his trek home and Devi dejectedly retreated back into her house. Paxton was once again walking away from Devi, but this time there was a difference. This time, Paxton looked back.

#never have i ever netflix #never have i ever #nhie #nhie fic #nhie season 1 #netflix #netflix original #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall-yoshida #paxton is baby #Paxton is soft #nalini vishwakumar #fanfic #nhie rewrite #season 1 rewrite

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patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)

AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)

“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”

A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.

“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”

Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.

“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”

I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.

“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”

As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.

“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...

Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!

I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.

I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.

Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.

“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”

Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”

As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.

They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.

“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”

“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”

“H-he’s not that bad...”

“Ohh...?”

Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.

“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”

Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.

“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”

Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).

“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”

“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”

At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.

“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”

“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.

“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”

Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.

“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”

“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.

“I don’t know...”

Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.

Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:

He knows.

“Kyou-chan?”

The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.

“Right. Well, you see—”

“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”

“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”

There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.

“Would you two just SHUT UP!”

Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.

“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”

“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.

“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”

I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.

“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.

“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.

She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.

“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”

“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.

I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.

“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.

I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.

I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.

And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.

That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.

I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.

I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.

“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”

I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.

“What about him?”

I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.

“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”

“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”

“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”

I scowled.

“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”

And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.

“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.

“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”

He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.

“Kyou-chan?”

I bit my lip.

God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...

He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.

No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

No. Don’t think about that.

Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.

“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.

He slowly reached for my hand.

“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”

“No!!”

I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.

“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.

“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”

Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.

I flushed.

“You creep!!”

I clambered to my feet and stormed over.

“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”

Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.

“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”

Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”

At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.

“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.

“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”

I stopped.

I turned and gave him an exasperated look.

“Depends.”

I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.

“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”

“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

I scoffed.

“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”

I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”

“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”

I froze.

There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.

“It starts on page fifty-three.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder.

“Where did you get that?”

Dazai shrugged.

“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”

I took a step forward.

“Give that back.”

“Back?”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.

“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”

“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”

I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.

“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”

“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.

“Give—it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.

But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.

I felt my blood boil.

“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”

I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.

“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.

I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.

In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.

I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.

“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”

“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.

I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.

“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”

Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.

He got me. He got me good.

Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?

I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...

A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.

Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...

“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...

I shook my head to clear the thought away.

No. Bad idea.

That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.

I squinted at it.

“Who...? Oh.”

It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.

“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.

My eyes widened.

Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.

My mind raced.

When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?

Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.

“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”

Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?

The reply was prompt.

“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”

Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai x oc #kunikida x reader #kunikida x oc #kunikida doppo #dazai #kunikida #doppo kunikida #bungo stray dogs

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spacesnail3000 · 5 years

Text

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 5: I Can Teach You Everything I Know

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: Turns out abstinence-only sex education from a private Catholic school doesn’t prepare you for the real world as well as conservatives think it does. Shocking.

Word Count: 4,940

Warnings: Language, dubcon smut (fingering, thigh riding), manipulation

(This story is starting to get much darker now so please pay attention to the warnings!!! It doesn’t get better from here!!)

Masterlist / AO3

The rain didn’t clear up for a couple more days, but they didn’t mind.

She and Steve spent the mornings together at the kitchen table, Y/N writing and drawing in her journal, and Steve sketching in his notebook.

He mentioned offhandedly one day that he missed painting, and then she asked him if he would teach her how. So they went out to a little art store and bought a bunch of watercolor supplies and he taught her everything he knew. How to control the saturation of pigment with the amount of water on the brush, how to bloom the color across the page, how to layer the shades to add more depth to the picture.

She ate up every little tip he told her. It reminded him of when his mother taught him how to paint. He hadn’t had much time lately for hobbies, so he was enjoying the opportunity to indulge his artistic side. He enjoyed spending the uninterrupted time with her just as much.

In the afternoons, Steve had business to do. He’d spend hours on the phone with Tony, planning big things for the coming weeks. Not even Bucky was allowed on these calls—which annoyed him at first, but it gave him more time to spent with their girl, so he took it in stride.

It was the morning after the long night Steve and Bucky spent together, and Steve was making breakfast for them. While Y/N was setting the table, Bucky snuck up on Steve in the kitchen, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. Steve jumped and pulled him aside into the laundry room.

“What happened yesterday,” Steve said, voice low so Y/N wouldn’t hear. He rubbed a hand over his face. “We can’t do it again.”

“What?” Bucky frowned, “Why?”

“Peggy, of course,” Steve said it like it was the most obvious thing. Steve couldn’t serial-cheat on his girlfriend. That would be unacceptable. “She doesn’t deserve that. It was a one-time-thing. Keep it between us, got it?”

Bucky smiled tightly. “Of course, Stevie. Whatever you want.”

Afterwards, he went for a long run along the beach to clear his head, and for the following days, he tried to stay clear of Steve. Truthfully, it hurt a little. He and Steve had always been on and off, but Bucky liked it best when they were on. If it were up to him, they would be on all the time.

Bucky didn’t really see the reason for Steve to date Peggy, but Steve seemed to be happy—sometimes, at least. He seemed less and less happy the past few months as Peggy expected more and more out of their relationship. Every time Steve complained about Peggy suffocating him or not understanding his obligations to the mob, Bucky wanted to yell at him—shout out, that if Steve chose Bucky, it would be better. If Steve chose Bucky, they would be happy.

Bucky didn’t know what to do about it, though. Steve didn’t want him now—he wanted Peggy, apparently.

So while Steve holed himself up in the cottage’s office in the afternoons, Bucky would seek out Y/N to distract him. Their time together was peaceful, spent cuddling together on the back porch with a thick blanket and watching the rain. They would reminisce over their childhood memories, show each other books and music they liked, and talk about almost anything that came to mind.

She tended to be more vulnerable with Bucky when it was the two of them alone, snuggled up together, and Bucky couldn’t help but go even softer for her. He loved the way she felt pressed up against him, the way she would look up at him for validation or reassurance, the way her eyes would light up whenever she spoke about herself.

Since Steve had rebuffed him, he couldn’t help but feel a little spiteful, a little dejected. His deep-seated yearning for Y/N was only growing now that he and Steve were on stricter terms.

Sometimes when Steve took her in his arms at night when they watched movies, Bucky would feel a little unwelcome spark of jealousy popping off in his chest. He wasn’t sure who he was jealous of. Certainly he wanted Steve to show that kind of affection to him, but he also wanted her in his arms almost all the time.

Seeing them curled up together so closely, he had to admit that they looked good together. Steve was the strong protector type, and she needed something like that.

He wondered if he could be that for her, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t in him. Still, despite that, he couldn’t help the way he felt towards her. She was sunshine personified—how could he not love her just a little bit?

In the back of his mind, he hoped he would get the chance to get closer to her again, that the moment would come for him to take her in his arms like he had the night of her birthday.

But it was too far-fetched. He knew that.

The moment happened to present itself in the middle of the week.

They were all on the couch watching a thriller movie, and she was curled up into Bucky’s side. Bucky wasn’t even paying attention to the television. His mind lingered on how she felt against him, the feeling of her soft skin as he stroked her arm, the way her hair tickled against his chin where he rested it on her head.

He thought the movie was probably just getting intense, because Steve’s phone rang, and both Y/N and Steve jumped in their seats at the shrill tone. Her head jolted against his jaw and made his teeth click.

Steve’s brief shock disappeared when he checked the caller ID. “It’s Peggy!” he said excitedly, jumping up. “I’m going to bed, goodnight!” He ran up the stairs, and they hear him answer before he shut himself in his room.

Bucky huffed, “About damn time…”

“Why has Peggy been ignoring him all week?�� the girl in his arms asked, stretching out more on the couch.

“She didn’t like that he had to come here,” Bucky answered.

They went silent once more, watching the movie—or in Bucky’s case, pretending.

“Is it my fault?”

Bucky kissed the top of her head. “No, doll. It’s not your fault,” he lied. She believed him though, and his words seemed to reassure her enough that she relaxed into him. “Let me lay down, doll. I’m getting stiff here.”

“Hmph…” Grumbling, she allowed him to maneuver them so he was laying behind her, her back pressed against his front. Bucky didn’t hesitate before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, spooning her. She was soft and warm against him, and he relished it for the remaining hour and a half of the movie, lost in the way she felt against him.

He hadn’t even realized when the credits started rolling until Y/N turned her head a little bit. “Steve’s asleep,” she whispered. It was only then that he heard the faint sound of snoring upstairs.

“You wanna go to sleep?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

She shook her head. “Not tired.”

She took the remote and played another movie, then settled back against him again. He was glad she had elected not to go to bed yet. He wanted more time with her in his arms.

Burying his face into her hair, he smelled the salon shampoo she used, and something sweet like vanilla. He stayed there, arms anchoring her against him.

His grown-out stubble scratched at the back of her scalp and at her neck and she squirmed against him. Bucky only realized the effects of her squirming when it was too late, and then the bulge in his pants was pressing against her ass.

She turned in his arms to face him. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the movie anyways. “You’re tickling me,” she pouted.

“What?” he asked, oblivious. “How?”

Her hands came up and cupped his jaw, her fingers running along his stubbly cheeks. “Your beard,” she answered, eyes fixated on his strong jawline.

She was so close to him now. He could smell her perfume, floral and fresh. Her sun kissed skin glowed in the faint light of the television.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ll shave it.”

“No!” she said, too quickly. Thoughts of his scruff chafing against her lips and chin when he kissed her flickered through her mind, and she blushed.

Bucky smirked at her reaction. “No, you don’t want me to?” he teased.

She shook her head, fingers still playing at his beard. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, hands splayed across her lower back, stroking lightly there. She was sensitive there, he learned from the daily applications of sunscreen. He dug his fingers in to tickle her, and she squirmed against him again, trying to move away from his fingers but only pressing herself up more against his hard body. If she noticed—well, he wanted to see what she would do. It thrilled him a little that she would experience this for the first time with him.

She had noticed the hardness in his shorts, but she ignored it—not really knowing what she was supposed to do about it. She knew it happened when a man was aroused, but Bucky—he couldn’t be…

Well, he did try and kiss her. But that had been weeks ago, she reasoned, and he hadn’t made another move since. Not that she really knew how their relationship was supposed to progress from there. He had just gone back to acting like her best friend.

At least he hadn’t ignored her like Steve had, but she and Steve were back to normal, too.

Still, Bucky had to have kissed her for a reason, and the way his eyes kept flickering down to her lips confirmed as much.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Why’d you kiss me on my birthday?”

Bucky stiffened, not anticipating that question. She hadn’t brought it up yet, but he didn’t expect her to ignore it forever.

“I…” he didn’t know how to answer. “I wanted to,” he said simply.

“But why?”

He thought about it, how he had been tempted. “You just looked so pretty that night, I couldn’t help myself.”

She mulled this over. “So you’ve been able to help yourself since? Or have you not wanted to kiss me again?”

He knew what she was doing—trying to see if he had lost interest in her. “I liked the kiss, darling. I just haven’t had the chance to kiss you again.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks were flushed now, pink and pretty. “So you want to?”

Well, she was basically inviting him to kiss her now. What else was he supposed to do?

He leaned forward and kissed her—softer than he had before, just a gentle press of his lips against hers. Then he pulled back all too soon and licked his lips. Her lip balm tasted like candy.

“There. Happy?” he asked, unable to repress the smirk on his lips.

She was pouting. “No,” she answered.

“No?” He raised his eyebrows, playing innocent. “Why not? Not a good kiss?”

“Bucky,” she whined. “C’mon.”

“What? I don’t know what you want unless you tell me.”

She huffed, then said, “I liked how you kissed me on my birthday.”

That was what he wanted her to say, and now she had fallen right into his hands. He brought one hand up to cup the back of her head, pulling her into him for the same kind of bruising kiss he had given her before.

This time, she didn’t freeze up. Instead, she worked her lips against his and matched his vigor, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth and tangle with her own. She tasted like cherries, and he groaned into her mouth, unable to help himself. She was everything he ever hoped—so receptive and willing.

He was rock hard by now, and he couldn’t help the slight press of his hips against hers. It caused her to gasp into his mouth, which pleased him. He groaned low in response, and she could feel the vibrations all throughout her body. That paired with the feeling of his stubble scratching at her skin, the feeling of his arms compressing her body around the middle—it was overwhelming, too much sensation for her inexperienced body to process at once.

She turned her head, breaking the kiss, but Bucky didn’t stop, lowering his head and kissing down her jaw and neck. As he sucked and licked at the sensitive skin, she let out the sweetest little sounds—gasps and whimpers, one hand grabbing at his shoulder and the other one in his hair. One of his hands came up to roam her body, brushing along her side, rubbing over her back, drifting down to caress her hip—he just wanted to feel her, every part of her.

When his hand skimmed over her ass, she started pushing at his shoulders. “Bucky,” she gasped as he bit at her clavicle, “Bucky, wait—"

“Quiet,” he shushed her, hoping she wasn’t loud enough for Steve to wake. He didn’t want to stop, and he certainly didn’t want Steve to catch them, so he brought his lips back up and kissed her hard, silencing her. Maneuvering their bodies just so, he shoved one of his thick thighs between her own, effectively pinning her body down with his leg and his arms tight around her torso.

She squeaked into his mouth when his thigh ground up against the space between her legs—nobody had ever touched her there before, not even herself. Her heart was racing, not sure what was supposed to come next, not sure how far he was going to go with her. It was all too much too soon, and while her body was tingling with his touch, skin burning, her mind told her it was wrong.

At the feeling of his hand groping her ass, squeezing tight, she yanked especially hard on his hair. Their lips detached at his pained gasp, which gave her the opportunity to turn her mouth away from him again.

“Bucky,” she panted, “Stop!”

It confused her when he chuckled, his laugh rumbling through both their bodies. He dipped his head, running his nose along her throat, ending with a press of his lips under her earlobe. “Why do you want me to stop, baby?” he asked, voice gravelly with lust. “You asked for me to kiss you, remember?”

“I know, but—”

“This is how I kissed you at your birthday. This is how it would’ve gone if Sam hadn’t interrupted us. You know that?”

She shook her head, mind swimming with arousal and panic. “But Bucky,” she pleaded, “I don’t know—I’m not sure—”

“Hey,” he stopped her, gripping her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t do nothin’ you ain’t ready for.”

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” she whispered, eyes dropping.

“Look at me,” he growled, voice firmer. She did, eyes shimmering with uncertainty. “Do you trust me?” She nodded, and his grip on her tightened. “Need to hear you say it, doll.”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

“Then let me take the lead.” The words sounded like a request, but his voice left no room for argument. “Quiet your mind. Listen to your body. Your body knows what to do,” he said, running his fingers gently along her side. She shivered. “You were made for me, baby.” His thumb ran along her lower lip, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of his hands mixed with his words.

He truly believed it—the more he touched her body, the more he realized it. She was perfect. All of her sounds, the way she clung to him; she was so receptive to his touch, her body so responsive. The goosebumps on her skin, the way she shuddered, the unconscious clench of her thighs on his—they betrayed her pleasure, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

Plus, he had already had a taste of her—he would never be able to let her go, now.

“I don’t know what to do, though,” she murmured, lips brushing deliciously against his thumb.

“I’m gonna teach you, sweetheart.” With that, he kissed her again. He would try not to overwhelm her tonight—there was always next time.

And there would be a next time, if he had anything to do with it.

For now, he just enjoyed kissing her, touching her body. Her lips were plushy and slippery wet, swollen from the scratch of his beard. She kissed him eagerly, tongue curling with his, only pulling back when she began to run out of breath.

As he kissed her, his hands roamed her body over the fabric of her dress at her waist and hips. The material was so thin he could feel the heat of her body through it, the way her flesh yielded to his grip.

His hand slowly inched down to the hem of her dress. The skirt was very short, and their position caused it to hike up more than was appropriate so it ended just under her ass. He bypassed the hem at first, hand running down her thigh, feeling her soft skin. Then he traced up the back of her thigh and dipped underneath the hem, gripping her ass beneath the fabric.

Her ass cheek was half bare, covered only by a pair of skimpy panties. He wanted to see them, so he swiftly flipped up her skirt over her hips to bare her ass.

“Bucky!” she gasped, breaking the kiss. They both looked down at her bared bottom, her gaze was panicked while his was lustful. The panties weren’t quite a thong, but they weren’t covering much of her ass; rosy pink lace dipped down between her cheeks, lost between her thighs.

“Look at you, baby doll,” he groaned, palming at the swell of her ass. “Lookin’ so sweet for me.” He ran a finger along the waistband, tracing the top hem and then down where it clung to the round flesh of her ass, ending with a soft press to the crotch of her panties.

She was soaking wet.

“What’re you—”

He cut her off, “Quiet, baby. Let me show you what your body wants.” His finger ran across her clothed pussy. “You’re wet for me. You know what that means?” She shook her head. “It means you like it. Your sweet little pussy gets wet when it likes what I’m doing to your body. Understand?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. Did she understand? Sure, she had had sex education, but she had gone to a private Catholic school in Brooklyn that only taught abstinence. Her health class had barely covered human anatomy, and the nuns had discouraged any questions about sex or pleasure, stating that sex was solely for procreation.

Her body was telling her different, though. She didn’t quite understand why her body was reacting so much to his touch.

She knew she liked it, though. Every brush of his fingers on her skin had her lighting aflame, and now he was touching along her panties and it felt like her pelvis was getting tighter. Everything just felt so good, and she had no idea how it could get any better.

“Sweetie,” Bucky’s hand stilled. “Have you ever touched yourself here before?” He asked, punctuating the question with a press against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling and then shook her head. His index finger found her clit through the fabric and rubbed light circles over it. “When I touch here, and I rub it or press against it, it feels good, doesn’t it, honey?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, hands clutching to his shoulders. She was breathing heavier again, and the blush on her cheeks had sunk down to the skin of her breasts, making her look like she had spent a little too much time in the sun. As he kept rubbing, her head tilted back, eyes fluttering closed. He pressed down a little harder and she keened, hips jumping against his hand. “S-sorry,” she gasped, trying to still her hips.

“No, sweetheart, don’t apologize,” his voice was low in her ear. “Don’t hold back. Move your hips if it feels good. I just want you to feel good—and there’s a lot of different ways for you to do that.”

At his words, her hips twitched again. He continued to rub against her, occasionally pressing harder, occasionally pinching her clit lightly. With each new sensation, her thighs tightened on him, her hips grinding against his hand, hands fisting his hair.

Bucky kissed her lightly on the mouth, skimming his lips along her cheek and down her jaw. He nipped lightly at her pulse point and brought his lips down further to her shoulder. He nudged the strap of her dress off, pressing his mouth against the skin there and sucking.

She jolted against him, gasping loudly, “Oh!” The spot he was kissing on her shoulder felt so good, like a direct line to her groin. “That’s—”

“Shh,” he hushed her, murmuring against her skin, “Gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t want Steve to wake up, right?” However, he kept sucking at the spot, noting how it made her squirm and grind down harder on his hand.

She thought that the idea of Steve catching them might dampen her arousal, quell the burning throughout her body, but she felt no panic at the prospect. Instead, the feeling in her tightened even more, making her body tense in the best way.

She felt hot all over, her skin moist with sweat, and she felt so, so slick between her legs. Her panties were completely soaked and they slid against her lips with each movement and shift of her hips, sending more jolts through her body.

“I said quiet, baby,” he admonished her when she whined more. He gave a sharp pinch to her clit to warn her, but it had the opposite effect.

She buried her face against his neck and bit into his skin there, knowing if she didn’t, she would make more noise. She couldn’t help it, though—that pinch had her flying into some depth of pleasure she hadn’t known about before. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, surging through her body. Every nerve was flaring, her skin tingling, mind going fuzzy in her frenzy.

Bucky rubbed her through her orgasm, relishing the way her whole body shook, her thighs clamping down hard on him. When she bit into his neck, it only fed his own arousal, his cock painfully hard in his sweatpants, pressed up against her writhing body.

Finally, the pleasure ebbed away like the surf during low tide, the boiling in her blood lowering to a simmer. She breathed hard against his neck, catching her breath. She vaguely registered that he was rubbing her back, his hand having retreated from her panties.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered into her hair. He pulled her back and kissed her lips gently, sweetly. “That was beautiful, doll.”

She would have blushed more if she could have. “What—”

“You had an orgasm, sweetheart.”

The nuns said that an orgasm happened during sex when a man came, but apparently women had orgasms, too. She never expected it to be so… wonderful.

It was the best thing she’d ever experienced. And she wanted more.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he teased. He knew full well that she did.

She didn’t catch the teasing in his voice or the smirk on his face, so she nodded vigorously. “That was—that… Bucky,” she sighed, a wide smile coming over her face. She giggled, high on the endorphins from her pleasure. “That was amazing!”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you liked it, but you gotta keep your voice down. Steve’s asleep, remember?”

She nodded. “Sorry,” she whispered. She was silent for a moment, pensive, and he allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts. Finally, she asked, “Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“You… you said… that there were a lot of different ways… for me to feel good… like that…” she looked away from him as she spoke, embarrassed still. “What are the other ways?”

He smirked, smug that she wanted more from him and was going as far as to ask him for it. “I can show you everything I know, baby,” he offered, “You want that?”

She nodded quickly again. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll show you everything I can, but it’s not all gonna happen tonight. Alright?”

“Okay… Thank you, Bucky.”

He smiled, kissing her head again. “Good manners, sweetheart. I like to hear your manners.” It turned him on, in fact. His cock couldn’t possibly get any harder.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“…Is that all you’re going to show me tonight?”

He thought for a second, wondering what else he could ease her into. Something not too far off from what they just did, and maybe something that could get him off, too.

“No, honey, not if you want more. Do you?”

“Yes, please.”

He looked down at her, the lust taking over his eyes again. Slowly, he moved his thigh back between hers, pressing up tightly against her pussy. She let out a breath at the sensation, the more intense pleasure that came from the constant pressure.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good,” she sighed, moving her hips against him of her own volition, just to see how it felt—and it felt wonderful.

“Good, sweetheart, just like that,” he praised her, one hand falling to her hip to help guide her movements. The other arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her tightly against him so he could get some friction of his own as his clothed cock pressed against her hip.

Her dress had been rucked up to her waist now, so she felt him against her bare skin through the thin material of his sweats. He was hard, unyielding, and it felt so hot against her. Something wet was soaked through the fabric and she could feel the large damp spot.

They ground their hips against each other, creating a sensual rhythm as the feeling in her belly built, grew taut once again. Bucky staved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, instead focusing on getting her to her own.

He kissed her deeply, licking into her mouth and swallowing all of her little whimpers. His hands both slid to her ass, gripping her flesh tight and pushing and pulling her hips against his. Rutting his hips into her, he bounced his thigh a little bit and she broke off their kiss, panting against his mouth with a pained whimper.

Bringing his lips to her shoulder, he scraped his teeth against the delicate skin, making her keen and whine. Her hands ran from her shoulders to his back, finding the bottom of his shirt and shoving her hands below the hem, wanting to feel more of his skin on hers.

When her fingernails scraped down his back, he groaned into her neck, the pain bringing him ever closer to his finish.

“Bucky,” she gasped, her hips stuttering in their rhythm, thighs clenching together around him. She could feel it building up again, the same as last time.

“That’s right,” he rasped in her ear, “Come for me.” His words seems to spur her on, and he continued, “Look so pretty when you come. C’mon, so sweet for me, just like that.”

“Oh!” she moaned, and he pressed his lips to her again to keep her quiet. He felt her body shaking again, signaling her orgasm, and he ground his hips further into her, his body going tense as he came. His hips rutted against her sharply, and they gasped the last of their orgasms into each other’s mouths, foreheads pressed together, hips twitching, bodies slowly going slack against the other.

Finally, Bucky pulled back first, looking at her. She was blissed out again, and Bucky wished he could see her like this all the time. He kissed her gently, dominating the kiss, all resistance she had previously harbored gone.

When they pulled back from the kiss, she looked down. “Your pants are wet,” she said, voice soft and sleepy.

He chuckled, “I’ll bet your panties aren’t too well off, either, honey.” He was glad he could still get her to blush furiously, and he kissed her swollen red lips to distract her. “C’mon,” he said when she yawned into the kiss. “Gotta get you to bed.”

Separating their bodies, Bucky took stock. His sweatpants were ruined, and her pussy had even soaked through a spot on his thigh. She was in a state of disarray, so he pulled up the strap of her dress and straightened the hem before scooping her up and standing.

By the time he made it to her room, she was already falling asleep in his arms, her body worn out from two consecutive orgasms. He tucked her in, brushed a hand over her hair to tidy a few errant strands.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly, sleep already taking her.

He slipped out of her bedroom and into his own. Steve was still snoring, which was a good sign, and as Bucky took off his dirty clothes and slipped into the shower, he realized he felt better now than he had in a long time.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mcu #stucky #stucky x reader #brooklyn’s sweetheart

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Serendipity, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

ser·en·dip·i·ty | n -- the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery.

It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant.

Modern AU, Zemyx, Ienzo is afab trans

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo hated parties.

No; "hate" was a strong word. As an eternal introvert, parties took a lot from him, and required several days' of mental preparation. But it was not always avoidable.

And anyway, he did want to go to this party. It wasn't often a childhood friend got their own gallery show, after all. There would be art and wine and probably intellectual conversation--something as designed for Ienzo as possible other than the social interaction. He sighed. All Naminé had said about the dress code was to "wear black" and the only thing he had since his unfortunate rebellious goth phase was a slightly-too-tight turtleneck that made him acutely aware of the fact that he was not in shape.

There was no point caring about his appearance. Who did he have to impress? If he cared, he'd actually do something about the hair growing directly into his eyes.

Ienzo was early. The city streets were narrow, and he needed a parking space. He walked slowly to the door of the gallery, trying to gather himself and smile. Naminé was already inside, of course, talking to one of the curators and adjusting the tilt of the frame just slightly. A few people were milling about, picking at the crudités that had been left out. He should've been later. Easier to blend in.

Well. No point backing out now. Once she turned away from the curator, she spotted him and smiled. "You made it," she said. "I thought someone was going to have to drag you." She leaned in for a hug.

"Congratulations," he said earnestly. "I do hope everything is for sale? I'd love to support you."

She waved a hand vaguely. "I'm just so in shock, to be honest. First time I haven't had to pay to be featured anywhere, never mind possibly making a profit. It does look so odd, right? To think most of this lived behind my couch until yesterday afternoon."

"Well, it's very much deserved," he said honestly. "It's about time someone noticed your talent."

She blushed. "Do you want any wine? Any snacks? It's all offered by them, so don't be shy."

He sighed. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

By the time she'd walked him over, a handful of other people had entered the gallery, all of them wanting to congratulate the artist. Alone in her flowy white dress, she looked very much like a spec in the darkness. Pretty, free, glowing from the attention.

Ienzo spent a half hour or so wandering the gallery, with its exposed brick walls. It was nice, to have the excuse not to talk. She'd done a series based on portraiture and memory, something he forgot entirely until he was looking at a (thankfully small) charcoal sketch of his own face. Naminé had a bad habit of drawing anything not nailed down, and asking permission later.

"Hey, that's you!" a man said. Ienzo looked up.

He was blonde, his undercut gelled on the top. His black shirt was wrinkled and French-tucked. Ienzo knew this person was familiar, but wasn't sure how. Small town?

"Well--yes," he said. "I forgot I consented to sharing this."

The man reached up almost to touch the sketch. "She's talented, isn't she," he said, positively glowing with pride. "Oh! I'm not a creep, I'm her brother." A wry laugh. "Demyx. Hi." He offered his hand.

"...Ienzo. Pleasure." His hands were rough, callused.

"Oh, I know," he said breezily. Then, at Ienzo's blank look, "you're her friend. She talks about you."

"I'm sorry--all the years I've known her and she's never shown me a photo of you."

He laughed. "Our family is… weird," he said slowly. "It doesn't surprise me."

"...I see," Ienzo said. He wondered if it would be rude to go get more wine. "I suppose… every family has its quirks."

He nodded once. There was something in his teal eyes that contradicted the friendliness of his expression, something sharp and aware. Something that--to his chagrin--Ienzo found fascinating. But why?

"Are there any of you?" he asked lamely.

Demyx laughed again, that awkward, staccato sound. "Yes," he said. "It's--ah, over here." He rested a hand on Ienzo's shoulder and pointed him to another painting. Ienzo wouldn't have known it was a portrait unless he was told; blue green swirls and a flash of blonde showed an abstracted version of a person. "I almost drowned when she was little," he admitted. "I think she took it to heart."

"...I see." Ienzo looked over through his bangs at this man. He saw, very quickly when Demyx thought he wasn't looking, the man give him a once-over.

Ah.

He couldn't deny that he also found him attractive, despite the man being most definitely not his type (with that hair?). It was the look in his eye. The something more. "So what do you do?" Ienzo asked.

"Well, I'm also kind of an artist," he said. "A musician."

Figured. "...I see," he said politely. Well. No matter dwelling on a passing attraction.

"But for my day job I teach," he added, wrinkling his nose. "Music. At the college."

Ienzo's eyebrows shot up. (His heart fluttered.) "You're a professor ?"

Demyx snorted. "I don't look it, right? But I can prove it." He took out a beat-up wallet and brandished a faculty ID. "Read it and weep."

"You just look so--young," Ienzo said lamely.

Demyx shrugged. "It was sort of a happy accident," he admitted. "I was finishing my master's and the guy they hired to teach theory I and guitar crapped out. They offered me the job for a semester, and, well, I guess they liked me enough to stop looking." He grinned. "I tend to thrive under the radar. Want more wine?"

Ienzo's heart was racing. "Yes. Please."

---

They ended up talking for hours. Long enough for the gallery to close, for Naminé to waggle her eyebrows at him when she saw them sitting together. Long enough for Demyx to ask him to get another drink. Ienzo wasn't sure if it were his tipsiness, but this conversation didn't exhaust him the way previous dates so often did. It wasn't until the bartender was asking for last call did he realize how late it was--that, and he was in no shape to drive home. "Oh, goodness," he said. "I'm afraid I got carried away."

"Like how?"

"Like--I came out expecting to spend two very proper hours admiring my friend's art. Here we are."

Demyx smiled. "I don't know why she was hiding you," he said. "I've had… a lot of fun."

"Me too," he said earnestly.

"Would you want to go on an actual date sometime?"

He smiled. He was tired enough not to psych himself out. "Absolutely." He sighed. "Though I'm afraid I'm in no condition to take myself home."

"You could crash at mine," Demyx suggested. Then, seeing Ienzo's expression, "on the couch! Not what I meant at all." He chuckled. "Or I can call you an Uber."

"Is it far?"

"A couple of blocks. Think you can make it?"

"I'm not that drunk--just shouldn't drive."

He followed him out of the bar. It was very late, the moon hanging high in the sky, making everything quiet and silver. Demyx slid his hand into Ienzo's. He felt a little thrill, trying to recall the last time he'd enjoyed being touched so. His own attempts at dating hadn't exactly been fortuitous. Rarely did he ever meet anyone on an app that inspired real chemistry.

"I love this time of night," Ienzo said.

"Me too," Demyx said. "Nobody has expectations--the world is asleep. So calm. I come up with my best stuff at night. It's like I can breathe."

He bobbed his head. "I do sometimes have trouble with that. The annoying grind of mundanity. Easy to lose yourself."

"Yeah." He smiled sadly. "Well, here we are. Second floor."

It was a relatively new apartment building. The stairwell smelled like Pledge and dust. When Demyx unlocked the door, a small gray cat meowed indignantly.

“That’s just Janice,” Demyx said. “Come on. Be nice,” he added to the cat.

It sniffed Ienzo’s hand and nuzzled him. Blearily, Ienzo took in the apartment. It definitely seemed to belong to a bachelor--the furniture was plain and shabby, and the “couch” was a futon. The coffee table was a pair of milk crates with a board over it. There were some band posters on the wall. Thankfully the place seemed clean. It actually had good bones; the appliances seemed relatively new, the cabinets real wood.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” Demyx said. “Bathroom’s through there if you need. I might have a new toothbrush somewhere--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ienzo said. “I’d hate to trouble you. Really.”

He blinked wearily. “Alright. Hang tight.” He came back with two blankets and a pillow. “Wifi password’s on the router.”

“Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Of course. Hope you sleep well.”

Ienzo was too exhausted to do much more than curl up on the lumpy futon. His tipsiness was good to him, and he drifted off.

---

Ienzo woke up to gold sunlight coming in through the blinds. There was something warm by his feet; he sat up slowly and saw the cat curled at the foot of the futon.

So. This had all happened.

Ienzo rolled onto his back and watched the light play on the ceiling. It had been a long while since he’d had so much fun on a date. It felt almost… odd. He’d told himself he was too busy to date, too set in what he wanted. But honestly? If he had seen Demyx on one of his apps, he probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

He heard movement from the other room. The other man was still in pajamas, his hair mussed and loose around his face. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock--then again, I always do when I’m drunk.” He sighed. “Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Don’t mention it. Better than you trying to get yourself home. Though I have to admit, it’s rare Janice cuddles up to a guest.” He leaned over to pet the cat, giving Ienzo a peek of his (surprisingly toned?) chest under the collar of his T-shirt. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’d hate to be any trouble--”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Which is it?”

“Whichever you’re having, I guess.”

He was handed a mug of black coffee. “I never asked what you do,” Demyx said. “We talked about so much stuff other than our actual lives.”

“I’m a librarian,” he said. “I work mostly in the research department.”

“Do you like it?” He sat on the other end of the futon.

“I love books, and I love research,” he said honestly. “It’s the best of both of those things. Sure, sometimes I have to help certain… characters with questionable projects, but it’s worth it to have so many resources.”

He cocked his head. “What do you research?”

“What don’t I research?” Ienzo asked, with a sigh. “Whatever strikes my fancy at the moment, I suppose, but I have a soft spot for linguistics and psychology. And gothic literature, but as my father is fond of telling me, that won’t pay the bills.” He rolled his eyes. “The joys of capitalism.”

Demyx laughed. “Sounds like he’s fun at parties.”

Ienzo smiled. “Oh, incredibly,” he said sarcastically. “But he… means well. Very doting.”

“Are you two close?”

“Closer than we were when I was a child,” Ienzo admitted. “His husband came ready-made with a child, and that transition wasn’t necessarily easy.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. “You are… astoundingly easy to talk to.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here all week.” He looked into his mug, the glint in his eyes becoming sad. “I don’t remember my parents much,” he said.

“Naminé never brings them up.”

“They were… not so into childrearing,” he added, with a shrug. “Especially when I got older… there’d be food in the fridge, checks in the mail, but for the most part they sort of did their own thing. They call, once every few months, to see if we’re still alive, but that’s about it."

“So you were kind of on your own,” Ienzo said.

“Eh, I try not to get too hung up on it,” Demyx said. “No point, right?”

“I suppose not.” The coffee was strong, warming the pale shadow of his mild hangover.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the mug. “So about that date,” Demyx said. “The library’s closed on weekends, right? How about today?”

Ienzo felt his face warm. Normally he’d need more warning, more time to mentally prepare himself, and to groom. But something about Demyx’s nature made that not matter. “Sure. Why not?”

They spent most of a day wandering around town, grabbing meals when appropriate, talking. Walking around the park, talking. Ienzo didn’t know how many words he’d been holding inside until they were coming out. It felt so good to hold Demyx’s hand, or to feel it on the small of his back. Something about it was so familiar. So… comfortable.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. And it wasn’t love, not yet; but rather an intoxicating slurry of attraction and interest. Something that could… become. Perhaps this was why when Demyx asked him if he’d like to come up for “a cup of coffee” at the end of the day, he said yes.

And to be fair, there was coffee; they just didn’t drink much of it.

Ienzo found himself making out with him on that horrible lumpy futon. He wasn’t averse to casual sex, had done it multiple times, but typically when actually dating he didn’t immediately hop into bed with that person right out of the gate. With Demyx, he was absolutely breaking all of his own rules--seeing a creative, not making an extra effort with his appearance, not taking the time to fully process things before moving forward. But oddly, the rush of this made that all not matter.

Ienzo was sitting in his lap. He wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse, but Demyx was a very good kisser, especially compared to his last failed date. Ienzo’s mind stubbornly did not wander as it was normally wont to in these situations. Demyx’s hair was deceptively soft as he tangled his hands in it. Too soon, Demyx broke away. “This isn’t too fast for you, is it?” he asked breathlessly.

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I just… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this.”

“What, instead of taking your time seducing me?”

He giggled. “Well, kind of.”

“I don’t usually either,” Ienzo admitted, kissing his jaw, his throat. Demyx was pressing up against him, the strangeness of hardness against denim. Despite himself, he felt his heart skip, this time with an anxiety. They’d talked about so many things, but not so much about one of the most important. He took a breath; and broke another one of his rules. “I… have to tell you something.” He swallowed.

“What?” Demyx touched his face. “Are you a virgin or something?”

“No, but it… might change things?”

“You’re shaking,” Demyx said. “What is it?”

He hated that he constantly had to explain himself. “I’m… trans. Transgender?” He shut his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you want to cut things where they are.”

His expression was hard to read. “Oh.”

“I should’ve said something sooner.”

His hand was so warm through Ienzo’s shirt. “No. Thanks for telling me. It doesn’t change anything. I mean. It changes things, but it doesn’t change things. You know?”

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved. “Oh?”

Demyx blushed and bit his lip. “I’ve never been with… a person with those parts. I’d… kind of thought, when I didn’t feel anything between your legs… I just thought I was doing a bad job.” He laughed awkwardly.

“That’s not it at all. I have a… packer I wear, but sometimes I can’t be fussed, honestly.” He could feel his face burning. “But it isn’t… difficult, if you’d be comfortable with that.”

His hand was shaking a little; Ienzo could feel it. “I’d be willing to try.”

“I could… show you, if you like,” he said slowly, unable to make eye contact. “Some other time… or now, whichever.”

Demyx kissed him, and for a moment they were lost in each other before he broke away. “I could try now.”

His heart skipped again. “Okay.”

“Come on.”

Demyx led him deeper into the apartment. Ienzo could barely take in the details, a combination of nerves and excitement making him feel vaguely dizzy. He thought he could smell incense, clean laundry, instruments on stands, a record player. Most of his focus was on the queen-sized bed. When was the last time he felt such genuine lust during a hookup, instead of mere curiosity? It was almost unfamiliar, making him shake and quieting the ever-present noise inside of his head. Demyx kissed him again, deeply, his tongue flicking against Ienzo’s before reaching for the hem of his turtleneck. He took him in with something like reverence before leaning down to kiss his collarbone, sending a fizz through his body. Ienzo reached up to take off Demyx’s own shirt, only able to look at him for a moment before he was eased onto the bed.

His thoughts were muddy, murky, and yet he was so inside of his own body. He struggled to unbutton Demyx’s jeans and felt him working at Ienzo’s, slipping them off. The nerves returned, making him acutely aware of the dampness between his legs, the insistent throb of his clit. He wondered if he might combust, and if that would be so awful.

Demyx broke away from the kiss. “Can I see it?” he asked.

“Yes--just--”

Demyx helped him out of his underwear. He was infinitely glad he was meticulous with his own personal grooming. He had not honestly thought this day would end with him getting laid. It felt a little awkward, to part his legs. Demyx ran his hand along the inside of Ienzo’s thigh, making him shudder. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe this is the first one you’ve seen,” he said, attempting a drollness and a coolness he did not feel. “Not at all.”

“True, but… not in real life,” Demyx admitted. “But you’re so… god, you’re beautiful.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Really.” He leaned down to kiss him. Ienzo tried to take off Demyx’s own underwear, his dick already straining against them.

The skin of it was warm against his palm. At least Ienzo knew he was competent at this. Demyx moaned against his shoulder.

“Before you… really go at it,” he said, with difficulty. “First tell me how to--”

A blush made him hotter. “Right. Ah--” He’d never had to explain this to any of his partners. “There’s a… little nub, the--”

“The clit?”

Thank god he knew that much. “Yes, just… that’s the most important bit.”

“Can I… can I touch you?” His expression was so tender. There was no way this was all real, Ienzo thought. There had to be a catch.

“Yes.”

He felt Demyx’s callused hand slide down his body, bringing with it a rush. After a moment where he seemed to struggle to find the nerve, he eased his hand over it, almost making Ienzo spasm. Demyx felt at it for a moment before he found the clit. “This?”

He swallowed. “That’s it. The… testosterone makes it… like that.”

“As long as I can make you feel good.” He kissed him again and began to stroke it, rolling it between his fingers. The feel of the calluses made Ienzo gasp aloud. “Is that bad?”

“No, no, it’s…” He could barely speak. “It’s very good.” With a trembling hand he fumbled to find Demyx’s dick, trying to move in rhythm with him. Hearing him struggle for breath only turned Ienzo on more. He could already feel the sensation building along his body, hot and electric. “If you want, you could… you could go inside me.”

Demyx looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Just--do you have a condom?”

His breath hitched. “Sure. Of course.” He dug in a bedside drawer that Ienzo honestly hadn’t noticed. He could feel his knees shaking. “Do you need lube?”

How had Demyx not felt how wet he was? “No.” Ienzo took the packet from him and eased it over his dick.

He laughed. “You might have to help me.” He guided the tip of it into him with one hand and gasped, his eyes closing. “It’s different.”

“In a bad way?”

“No.” He pressed into him a little more. “God, no. That doesn’t hurt you?”

“Doesn’t require as much preparation,” Ienzo explained. He opened his legs a little more, letting them rest against Demyx’s hips, for a moment just taking in the feel of his dick. It was more substantial than the hands or toys he’d taken over the past few months.

Demyx moaned. “You feel so good.”

“I could… say the same. Just kind of… slow and deep.”

He started to move against Ienzo. His skin was tingling, the warmth and weight of Demyx’s body combined with the thrusting bringing him again closer to that edge. The grind of Demyx’s hips brushed against Ienzo’s clit, forcing a small noise from him. He felt as though he were losing control--another rule broken--but found, in the moment, he didn’t care. Ienzo tangled his hands in that blonde hair and kissed him, finding a rhythm with him, smooth and gentle, a steadily growing heat blocking out anything else.

“Maybe a little faster?” he asked in a voice that wasn’t quite his.

Demyx made another noise and obliged him, moving harder. Ienzo could feel every bit of it, his body getting so sensitive the more excited he got. “Fuck,” Demyx said to his shoulder. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, his chest. “I--”

He let himself get lost in his body, his trembling thighs, the little waves of feeling starting to break over him in earnest, building smoothly towards that finish. “I’m really--”

Demyx’s hand reached down into the tangle of their bodies to find his clit again, and it was this more than anything that forced him over the edge.

It overtook him so fully and completely that for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, a hot and demanding pleasure holding everything out at arm’s length. He couldn’t stop shaking. He could feel, on some level, Demyx thrust into him once or twice more before he seemed to finish too, his dick twitching a little inside of him.

Ienzo came back slowly, seeing the ceiling first, his hands trembling, his skin borderline raw. Demyx eased out of him, making him shudder, and threw away the condom. “Are you okay?” Ienzo heard.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m still--coming down.”

“...Me too.” Demyx settled next to him on the bed, breathing hard. “Do you cuddle?”

Another rule that would be broken. At this point why bother keeping track? “Yes.” If anything, the arms around his waist helped. “I’m not sure I believe that was your first time.”

He laughed. “What, because I paid attention to you for five seconds? What idiots have you been sleeping with?”

“...Idiots, indeed.” He found himself relaxing in this strange bed. He’d almost forgotten that sex with another person could be satisfying instead of mere physical upkeep. “I do believe that’s the best I’ve had for some time.”

Demyx brushed his cheek. “Fuck, me too. I just… where did you come from, Ienzo?”

“Here. Planet Earth.” He smiled. “Though I… haven’t experienced something so instant in a long while. Maybe ever.”

“Me either.” He kissed him, and for a moment Ienzo used that to ground himself. “I know it’s been… like, a day and a half. But I really like you.”

The smile was involuntary. “Maybe it’s against my better judgement… but I like you too.”

#serendipity #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #ienzo is afab trans #unplanned pregnancy

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thatsadorbsyo · 5 years

Text

Ichika - Ego

(cw: sexually explicit content)

My undoing, such as with most things I suppose, began with a spark.

I sensed her eyes on me long before she approached with an unlit moko cigarette, asking with a foul tongue if I had a light. I thought nothing of it. I’m well familiar with being gawked at from across a room while someone tries to place the tug of familiarity at my sight. I left her to her devices, as I often do, preferring to give these strangers privacy for their journeys of dawning comprehension. Sometimes their memories of Kugane’s pleasure district are far too personal for me to insert myself in the process, as much as my ego might like to catch their eyes and make them sweat as they recall my breasts in the theater of the mind’s forgiving soft focus.

Most of them never say anything to me, but she was bold enough not only to stride up and ask for a match, but also to hold her hand out expectantly, the business end of her cigarette pointing at me as though it was a foregone conclusion that I would acquiesce. She stared up at me with big brown eyes, vertical pupils wide with starlight under the Whispered Wish’s porch awning. Her aggressive brows dared me to say no, to have somewhere better to be than consorting with the riff raff of the crowd, much less a fan.

Of course I gave her a light. I love to reward people for having balls.

“Heard about what happened to the Star Sapphire Theater. Ain’t that a kick in the dick, huh? Bet you’re glad you retired when you did. Coulda been you in there.” Her smoke blew in my direction every time she spoke, an acrid twinge that perfectly matched her raspy tone. Brash, unpolished. A little too honest. Perhaps it shocked me into being more forthcoming than usual, how close she managed to hit the ringing truth.

“The woman who died in the fire was a close friend,” I intimated, waving a hand in front of my face for fresh air. “A mentor, really. It’s difficult to feel lucky, knowing that she’s gone.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s fuckin’ rough.” For a moment, she looked like she was going to probe further, but blessedly she did not. Rustic, but not completely without manners. “A friend of mine, she dragged me to one of your shows a few years ago when I was in town. Some kind of archery exhibition? But with ribbons? I was pretty blasted for, uh... almost the whole thing, sorry...” Her eyes gleamed with mayhem, not cowed in the slightest. "But do I remember being impressed by more than just your tits. You were acrobatic, passionate. You looked like you had an arrow with everybody’s goddamn number on it, like you wanted to fuck everyone in attendance with one perfect, piercing blow. Guess I can relate to that. It stuck with me.”

I startled into a laugh. She kept doing that to me, somehow. I wanted to keep following the threads her quaint little mouth wove with such harsh color. She spoke in acid yellows and caustic reds, occasionally soothed by a ribbon of velvet purple, and they painted me perfectly. My ego grew accustomed to being sated. “Fumiko choreographed that dance. It might make a felicitous tribute to her memory, should I ever find myself fit enough to perform it again.”

To her credit, the glance she made at my ass was subtle. Had I not been expecting it, I wouldn’t have caught it at all. “Dunno. You look pretty fit to me.” The butt of her cigarette disappeared under her boot heel, and she tilted her head toward the burlesque theater door, her long black ponytail swaying over her shoulder. “Hey. Come get a drink with me. I betcha it’s what Fumiko would have wanted, for you to slut it up right proper on foreign shores. It’s the best thing you can do after cheating death. Trust me, I’d know.”

Her stance squared, chin up in preparation for a gentle rejection, but when I did an accounting of my desires they turned up in her favor. To my own surprise, I wanted nothing else out of the night than to listen to her talk.

I don’t know when I made the decision to let her fuck me. It was somewhere between the first plum wine and the third or fourth anecdote about she and her best friend’s myriad triad sexual escapades. She had earned a reward--for her insight, for her cleverness, for finding a way to string words together that actually made my cheeks warm. She had no pretense. Everything that came out of her mouth was pure id.

My own reward was the sheer novelty of a polished wooden cock. I’ve been around the world and never experienced that until now, somehow. It hadn’t occurred to me in all of my years that women could fuck each other like that. Perhaps things would be different if my imagination had struck upon that sooner. Lots of things. I struggle with the accounting on that scenario--the implications are vast and... daunting. Disheartening in retrospect.

It was psychological warfare, make no mistake. Having my face in the mattress and the deep, steady pound of her hips against my backside, a slow and hypnotizing pace set purely for my pleasure, by a cock that would never fire too quickly, or fail to start, or push faster before I was ready. Everything she did was specifically and oh so explicitly for me. She was neither selfish nor greedy, and had no ulterior motives aside from making me come. Gods. To think that I’d never had that in my life. Could this be pleasure? Is this what it’s like to crave more out of pure desire rather than the lingering bitterness of dissatisfaction?

I had to have it again. Immediately, the moment it was done. I sketched a quick portrait of her as she laid in bed after, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling with the perpetually ready cock still standing up straight where it was attached to her pelvis. She signed it with a lazy flourish. K’tara.

I keep it in my purse, touching it lightly throughout the day and letting the thrum of her inside me resonate through my body again, unbeknownst to anyone around me. Fuck. It’s exhilarating!

K’tara. K’tara.

My cunt has ached with bruises and memories ever since. K’tara. I daydream about her hand in my hair, her haunting grind, her sharp teeth. K’tara. I know nothing about her, but I am smitten, my body broken down and laid out into component pieces, every one of them singing. K’tara. My ego is full to bursting.

I need it again. I have to find her.

#ffxiv rp #mateus rp #mateus #crystal rp #ffxiv #IC post #ichika tanaka #k'tara tyatu

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silvergrimoire97 · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1

You open the door to the strong aroma of coffee. The smell jolts your brain into reality and you take out your gold Starbucks rewards card.

‘The usual Y/N?” Hoseok asks you’ve been coming here ever since Freshman year of college.

“Yep, today is the calm before the storm.”

“Which final has your panties in a twist?” he wiggles his eyebrows as he swipes your card.

“The MCAT, I need to get at least a 520 to get a good shot into Seoul National University med program, and I got a 518 on my last practice, so my mind is buzzing with frustration on those two problems.”

“Well saying that you're already going to SNU for a master I think you have a good shot.” He winks at you as you grab your cup of coffee.

Just before you leave a wall of hard muscle bumps into you.

“Whoa!” You steady your coffee before looking up at the person who has a firm grip on your arms.

“Watch where you’re going,” his low voice huffs.

“Sorry?” You reply with a slight bite in your tone before walking around him and out into the busy street. But before the door closes behind you, a faint call tells you to stop. You ignore it and continue walking to the bus stop.

You grab onto one of the dangling handles in the bus as you sip your coffee. You stare out the window, watching the busy streets go by in a blur as you head to university.

The bus comes to a slow stop and you hustle out with all the other students as you head to your 8 am class. As you walk towards the lecture hall someone slings their arm around your shoulders. You stumble a little but look to see it was Taetae.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes today?” he jokes.

Ah, your best friend since junior year of high school. Tae also wanted to be in the medical field, but his dream is to become a pediatric surgeon since he loves kids so much. You, on the other hand, have no patience for such things because they are mere burdens to take care of.

You raise an eyebrow at his question.

“Please, you had a resting bitch face on which only meant that in the two hours that it took for you to come here, something went wrong. So?”

He knew you like the back of his own hand and you always saw him as an older brother, you both tried kissing to see if things could get farther, but it was merely teen hormones messing with your friendship. As sexy and hot Taehyung was, both of you knew that your relationship was just a protective platonic older brother-sister relationship. So sometimes people thought you two were acting too cozy, but that’s only because you had no boundaries.

“I ran into a jerk leaving Starbucks and his rude attitude got on my nerves.” You explain before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Really? Could it be because you were too busy gazing after Hoseok that you weren’t looking where you were going?” He wiggles both of his eyebrows at you.

“Oh shut up, you know that I would never date Hoseokie, I just admire him from afar, like a celebrity crush. You know that they will never be with you, but you still love them to your heart’s content.” You look up to see him give you a pointed look. “Well besides that, the sheer annoyance in his voice just ticked me off, as if I stained his 200 dollar Gucci tie or something. By the way, I didn’t spill my coffee, so it was a win-win situation sort of.” You puff your chest at the last sentence because people usually spilled theirs, but you didn’t because surgeons have to have steady hands.

“My oh my, could this be a new love interest?” he swoons.

You sigh with longing as you stare up into Tae’s big chocolate brown eyes, how you wish they could be yours, but all the same, you didn’t because you couldn’t force anything.

“I love you,” you blurt out, to gauge any emotion from him.

Without missing a beat he responds with, “I love you too sis.” He smirks knowing that we both had no chance with each other. Some people would think that he’s gay, but he isn’t. I just happen to be his long lost twin and we understand each other in an unspoken way.

“You know what if this rich guy is a secret gangster who makes his money off of killing people? I would be dating a murder and then you’ll never see me again.” I pout up at him.

“Well, it was nice knowing you Y/N.” He salutes as the two of you head into your premed course.

One lecture and three classes later…….

You and Taehyung head to the library and as you set up the little wall of books, Taehyung pulls out two bowls Jajangmyeon. The librarians would kill us if they found out that we bought food that can stain the precious pages of the books. You usually studied with Taehyung at the library because it was quieter and there was an actual sizable desk to spread out all your textbooks and notebooks.

You take out your pencil pouch along with your laptop to type up the notes rather than hand write them. You highlight in the textbook since you got a full ride scholarship to university having worked your ass off since elementary school spending everyday in the library reading anatomy books. Taehyung on the other hand printed out the entire textbook one night when he snuck into the teacher’s lounge and decided to use the free ink and paper. To make the story short, he came back with a gleam in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed from physical exertion.

You begin skimming over your lecture notes and working on the assignment and paper at hand while Taehyung looks like he’s texting Jimin to find out what time is the party' this weekend. Tae somehow managed to keep a 4.0 GPA while also getting slam dunk drunk every other Friday. How you don’t know, but you are somewhat envious of his hidden brain. Of course, you were smarter than him since those long hours crying in the library weren’t for nothing.

“The party starts at 10 so I’ll be gone from 10:30 till noon the next day, so while that is happening and I’m getting laid, go call that Yoongi guy up and go out on a date with him,” Tae says over a mouthful of noodles.

“How about no because we have a quiz coming up and that quiz also has bonus points on it so it won’t hurt to study a little.” You remind him as you highlight a section that was a little confusing.

“Or maybe you can quit your dry spell and have some fun in your life since being a doctor also means to have creativity. You gotta think outside the of the box when you’re faced with a challenging case.” Tae says as he sketches out the surgery that you had trouble remembering.

He was always a visual learner and it helped since he drew badass diagrams for you to help study with. While he drew you filled in the picture with words, which made you two the ideal study buddies.

You and Taehyung spend the rest of the night studying at the library and finally leave when the librarians kick you two out. You slide into Tae’s car and the smell of coke and popcorn greets you. Tae’s parents are well off, but to an extent Tae survives off of his allowance. Not needing to work a single day in his life. Well he did become a lifeguard with you because he wanted to show off his body and get a good tan, plus him being the perv that he is, there were people in bikinis all the time at the pool, so there was that reason too.

Tae drives his matte black Porsche back to your luxury studio apartment that Taehyung’s parent spay for. You’re like the daughter they never had, so you don’t feel that guilty that you freeload off of them.

You look at your phone and realize that Friday is two days away and maybe you should give that person a call just because. Maybe he won’t answer and if he doesn’t then fate has spoken. Yeah, you will give him one chance and one chance only.

Throwing your backpack on your bed, you take out today’s books and replace them with tomorrow’s, but it’s only a couple since you have two lecture and one philosophy class that you decided to take just for fun. After making sure you’re prepared for tomorrow you head into the shower and grab your pajamas, which is just one of Tae’s shirts since their the perfect length of covering your ass, and big enough not to show your perky nipples.

After showering and washing up you holler goodnight to Tae and he does the same before you close your lights and wall asleep.

RRIIIINNNGGGG

The alarm blares in your eardrums and curses out as you hit the off button. Rolling out of bed and waddling over to the bathroom to wash your face and do your daily skin routine that takes about five minutes since it’s just toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen. QUite basic for people in Korea. You walk out the door and don’t bother to lock it because of the fingerprint lock.

You walk the one block to Starbucks and stand in line for your usual order.

“Good morning.” Hoseok flashes his sunshine smile.

“Ah,” you grunt out as you hand him your card.

“No, it’s on the man that you ran into yesterday.” Hoseok winks.

“Well then, I’ll pay for his order and tell him that I call it even.” I sigh.

“Someone has her panties in a twist.” Hoseok frowns.

“Well, you don’t have a sugar daddy making moves on you.” You deadpan.

“Well, that sugar daddy said to give you this.” He slides a receipt across the counter and on it reads a phone number and the sugar daddy’s name.

882- 576-8765

Call me, Min Yoongi

You give an amused smile and thank him for the drink before crumpling the receipt and tossing it into the trash can.

Little did you know that someone in the corner saw you throw away his number and his eyes glinted with an emotion he hasn’t felt in a while.

You walk to the lecture wall and set up as your little desk as you prepare for a two-hour lecture, fun.

After what seems like forever your phone vibrates and you see an unknown number pop up with a text.

Unknown id: Friday night I’ll pick you up at 8

Y/N: Buy me a dress, shoes, and clutch, what is the dress code?

Unknown id: Formal so wear makeup and don’t look like trash

Y/N: Wow thanks for the compliment :)

Unknown id: Don’t be late or else I’ll murder you in your sleep

Y/N: huh, I was right. You are a murder. Do I need to send my address or do you already know where I live?

Unknown id: I already know where you live since I followed you home once, but don’t worry I’ll sprinkle your ashes down a river if you want ;)

You smirk and save the number as Yoongi.

The day goes by and you flop onto the sofa as you soak in the peace and quiet since Taehyung is at his night class doodling the time away. You don’t particularly miss him because he’s always screaming into his headset playing Overwatch.

After a couple minutes of looking up at the ceiling, you sigh as you go and make yourself cereal for dinner. Pouting yourself a generous amount of Frosted Flakes the doorbell rings and you walk over unsure who it could be. You weren’t expecting a package of any sort and Taehyung has his fingerprints in the system. But as you turn the door handled it dawns on you that it was probably Yoongi sending over your outfit. You open the door and a guy who is a couple inches taller than you with a small smile hands you over a large white box tied with a blood red ribbon. You thank him with a smile and wonder if you can hook up with him instead of Yoongi.

Your phone buzzes in the back of your pocket and you see Yoongi flash on the screen.

Yoongi: Did you get your very expensive outfit that you had me buy for you

Y/N: I did not force you to buy it only strongly suggested and thank you I did get it. You really did stalk me and get my address

Yoongi: you think I was kidding?

Y/N: Yes because I didn’t think you were creepy

Yoongi: I was merely making sure that you weren't some criminal living in a dump. By the way, you seem pretty rich yourself.

Y/N: I suck off of my rich boyfriend Taetae and maybe I’ll cheat on him with that delivery boy you sent over.

Yoongi: well I may just have to kill him then along with your boyfriend

Y/N: So I’ll be going out with a serial killer??!!

Yoongi: Don’t worry it’ll be painless

Y/N: The date is tomorrow so I have one last day of freedom

Yoongi: Freedom?

Y/N: Of being single

Yoongi: What about your boyfriend taetae?

Y/N: I never said that it was a closed relationship ;)

Yoongi: hhhmmmm

You give a small smile and continue eating your cereal as you watch Grey’s Anatomy catching up on last week’s episode. You wish being a surgeon was that easy, but it’s not and that’s why you were drawn to it. A challenge that can be conquered.

Looking at the time you give up on waiting for Taehyung and head to bed.

RRRIIINNNGGGG

The familiar sound wakes you up and you head to the bathroom to wash up and head to class, this time choosing to ride with Taetae instead of taking the bus. Waiting at the door eating a granola bar you wait for him. He was always late somehow, don’t know how. After giving him an extra minute, you walk to his bedroom and knock on the door first, giving him that decency at least. After waiting a second you open the door and see bruises mar his face and dried blood from a split lip. He snores softly and you walk over to him quietly.

Taking in a breath you lift up his shirt and see fresh stitches. And curse under your breath. What the actual fuck? You don't disturb his slumber but go to your room and quickly write on a sticky note.

Took your car because you made me late by not telling me that you are basically dead. Will be home around 3ish after my lectures.

You run out of the apartment and unlock the Porsche pressing on the gas pedal accelerating from 0 to 100 in just a few seconds. Racing out of the apartment’s garage you head out onto the road and make it to university in record time.

As you get into the lecture hall and choose a seat in the middle you pop a stick of gum into your mouth. The burst of spearmint wakes you up and you sit at the desk looking at your phone to realize that Yoongi has spammed you.

Yoongi: Where are you

Yoongi: Y/N

Yoongi: Y/N answer me

Yoongi: Y/N I’m going to track you down and make you answer me

Y/N: I’m at school

Y/N: Do not follow me and how do you get this worked up at not seeing me get coffee?

Yoongi replies a second later

Yoongi: It just seemed out of character for you to skip your daily coffee, Hoseok said that it was like a grandma taking her daily meds.

You roll your eyes and begin texting back, but out of the blue Yoongi responds with another text.

Yoongi: How’s your boyfriend Taetae doing

You smirk at the slight tinge of jealousy laced in the words.

Y/N: Tae is doing fine why?

Yoongi: Just making sure the playing field is, even so, when I snatch you it will be fair

Y/N: LOL

You place your phone face down on the desk as the professor walks in and you bounce your leg as you wait for the minutes to tick by so you can see Taehyung quicker.

Halfway into the lecture, your phone makes a small noise and you quickly turn off the ringer and see tae texted you.

Tae: Why did you take my car :(

Y/N: it’s not like you need to go anywhere with how bad you’re bruised and don’t even get me started on how you could not TELL ME ABOUT THIS just be lucky that I prioritize my education over you. Or else you would be DEAD! DEAD KIM TAEHYUNG

Tae: please show me mercy, I beg of you. I’m injured, you can’t kill me. That would be unfair.

Maybe you were thinking too much about things but you ask.

Y/N: Do you know anyone named Min Yoongi

Tae: yeah he’s super rich why

Y/N: if he’s super rich then why does he buy his own coffee and not his secretary?

Tae: Idk maybe he’s a high-end snob with a specific order that no one can get right

Y/N: KIM TAEHYUNG I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SET THIS ALL UP

Tae: don’t u have a lecture u should be paying attention to

Y/N: fuck u this is not over

Tae: :p

You continue typing your notes as the teacher drones on and on. After what seems like forever you decide to skip your next two lectures which are optional but tell the professors you are sick and ask if they can email you a master copy of the notes. They agree and you drive home to kill Kim Taehyung.

You lock the car and take the elevator up, pressing your finger to the pad the door gives a soft click and you drop your backpack in your room and walk to Tae’s. The door is a ajared and you hear two voices, one being Tae’s obviously. Leaning against the wall you listen to the conversation.

“Why didn’t you just stay at the house?” A low male voice asks.

“Because if I stayed Y/N would think that something was up because it wouldn’t make sense for me to not come home after a night class,” Tae responds.

“You could have just texted her that you crashed at a friend’s place after a study session.” The man counters.

“Remember that Y/N has known me since I was in elementary school and she is my other half, so if I didn’t return home then it would scream that something was wrong,” Tae states a matter of factly

The man sighs, “She doesn’t know right?”

“No, she thinks you want to be her sugar daddy, but I mean it. If you hurt her in any way I don’t care about ranks or anything, I will kill you.” Tae states in a cold voice that you had never heard him use, ever.

“I know.”

You look through the crack and see the man come into your view. As the Min Yoongi opens the door and closes it behind him with a soft click, you put your finger up to your lips and grab his hand you drag him into your room, locking the door behind you.

Yoongi’s eyes widen and you lean against the door.

“What happened to Taehyung last night and what do you do for a living?” You deadpan.

“Do you promise to listen until the end?” He asks slowly.

You give a nod and he lets out a breath before sitting at the foot of your bed.

“That cute delivery guy is park Jimin and he’s our messenger of sorts. Taehyung had a mission to infiltrate a gang and do so by any means, things got out of hand he had to call for backup. He got captured for a couple of hours and got interrogated, but didn’t give the, anything valuable just plant seeds of discord amongst rival gangs. My real name is Min Yoongi which is true, but I’ve known about you since the first day of high school when Taehyung told us about you. I’m the CEO of Min Corporations which is a software system and I make billions, but I’m also a part of a gang called BTS. I’m not the leader, but I’m in charge of the all the technical aspects such as changing the security cameras, hacking into computers and those type of things.”

He looks up at you, anxiety filling his eyes and fear.

“Let me see your gun?” You push off of the door and walk over to him.

He does so and hands you the weapon with the safety on. You take the gun from him and the barrel warm from his body. As your hands slide over the material you turn the safety off and cock the gun. You aim the gun at the door and on cue Taehyung flings the door open, how he picked the lock within milliseconds only confirms your theory. Yoongi stills beside you and Tae freezes at the barrel pointed square on his heart.

His eyes widen with fear and you smirk as you turn the safety on and hand the gun back to Yoongi.

“I’m going to leave now, but are we still on tonight?” He asks in an unsure voice.

“Yeah, but should I bring my own Glock or will this dinner be peaceful?” You quirk an eyebrow.

A small playful smile graces his features as he says,”Bring your own just in case, you never know when danger can come.” He winks before closing the door.

“You will not need to bring a gun on your date because Yoongi is not taking you anywhere dangerous and if he does I will gut him in front of you,” Tae says through clenched teeth.

You bat your eyelashes at him and ask, “Do you not think I can carry my own gun?”

“From the way you were aiming at my heart, I would say that you know how to use one from experience which both worries and excites me.”

You stand up from your bed head to walk out of your room before saying, “Order pizza and then I might just tell you my secrets as you tell me yours.” You give him a pointed look.

He nods and follow out to the living room couch. As you plop down Taehyung asks, “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.”

He flips the coin and it lands on tails. Heaving a sigh you look at Tae and for a second you wish that he could be your boyfriend so you can distract him with a kiss.

“I love you,” you blurt out again.

“Nice try,” he glares at you.

You lean over and go to kiss his lips but he sticks his hand in your face and pushes you back. He laughs as you groan. Why must you be unlucky?

“Spill the details,” he says in a serious voice.

You roll your eyes and lean onto his shoulder for warmth, knowing that some part of you is going to go numb at reliving your past.

“I was an orphan as you know and somehow I managed to scheme my way into that high end elementary school so I can start my life outright. Did you ever wonder how an orphan can go to a private school that cost more than a car? How a girl with no money managed to be at the top of her class and pay for all the textbook and eat the school lunch while also owning enough uniforms to not look like a slob?” You look up at him waiting for him to respond.

He nods for you to go on and you nestle deeper into your position.

“I was an orphan, but I had an older sister who whored herself for us. She fell in love with EXO’s Baekhyun who took care of my schooling. I always went to your house for play dates and study sessions, you never came to mine. My sister loved me, she really did, but Baekhyun didn’t love her the same way. He dumped her and gave her enough money to keep her contempt. She took care of me for six years, so it was time that I returned back the favor. In middle school I would always say I was too busy studying at the library when really I was worming my way into EXO and learning how to hack from Sehun. They didn’t know of course because I watched from the vent. I also got payback on Baekhyun, till this day he’s still afraid of bunnies. He sleeps in fear every night,” you give a hollow laugh at the memory of him writhing in pain from that time his chest turned into nothing but shredded flesh.

“Back to the story. At first I transferred one thousand into our bank accounts taking one dollar from a thousand bank accounts. As time drew on and my sister needed to go to college I began taking money from other gangs, it was already dirty money so why not get it dirtier? She was able to go to any college she wanted and now she’s a kindergarten teacher dating a wonderful CEO of some stock market company. She sends me money for school and instead of using it I’ve been saving it to buy myself a house and car along with money to get by in case I need to run away. All those sleepovers we’ve had well, while you were sleeping safe and sound, I was out in the night sneaking into stores shoplifting, getting jewelry to pawn, or sneaking into banks to crack open safes. Along the way I made a few enemies, and that was when I taught myself how to shoot. At first I practiced in abandoned building and then I went into gun ranges overnight to work on my shooting at night. I used a flashlight for some guidance, then I trained my vision to guess and then I bought night vision goggles, well stole them.”

“I’ve been in this world from the day I was born after finding out that my mother was a whore who overdosed and my father is now dead after I killed him. He was a pimp who worked under a rather dirty gang that has now been dealt with. I guess the only thing that I need to tell you is that I knew who you were from day one. I have dirt on all the gangs in this district and I still keep up with it from time to time. But it’s been awhile since I checked on my tabs, so it was quite a surprise that you were in a gang. Although I never took you for a gang member.”

As he opens his mouth to talk the doorbell rings and Tae jumps over the couch to get the pizza as you go to the fridge to get two cokes. After settling back in and sitting cross-legged, eating pizza, and looking at each other Taehyung begins his story.

“I was born rich obviously, but when I was in preschool I got bullied, the kids were jealous and I would come home with bruises under my shirts. One day a kid saw me being cornered and scared the bullies off. Jimin, the delivery boy who you thought was cute, Park Jimin. He saved me. His parents are rich, but they’re rich because his father has another company that takes place underground and deal with things that should not be said. Everyone knew not to mess with Jimin or else their parents would suffer along with them. We became friends and he’s close but not as close as you are with me. You may be equal though once you start dating Yoongi and I’m left alone though,” I look up and he’s wiggling his eyebrows at you. You just roll your eyes and take a bite of your slice.

“Anyway, Jimin told me that he was going to join BTS when he got in elementary school so he can be powerful and stop bullies, so I wanted to join too and protect a kid like Jimin did for me. So I did the initiation which was just getting back to the base from any given location and they prepared us for that. I haven’t killed a person if that’s what you’re wondering. We don’t kill by the way, well out of self-defense, if we’re under fire then we don’t pay attention to the life, just making sure that we come out alive. But back to my story. I knew something was fishy with you from the moment you walked in elementary school darting your eyes all over the place like there were cameras everywhere. One day I found you hacking into the principal’s computer and change your grades to all As and then gave us that teacher workday. You were in kindergarten how did you learn how to do that? I began following you and at one point I did have a crush on you and kissed you in your sleep one night at a sleepover, but when I didn’t feel the tingles I thought I would, I decided it would be better to be your older brother, so there are no romantic feelings between us. By the time it was high school and we already knew each other I began getting another crush, this time it became an obsession sort of because I wanted to know what you did that made you so hot and sexy, it turned me on to be honest.”

“Oh shut up, you were just curious,” you laugh playfully hitting his chest.

“Well I was curious and not knowing what you did make me hard and I wanted to know more so I dug deeper and found more about your past. I didn’t know anything about your parents because you erased them, but read about your sister with EXO and that all Yoongi could dig up for me. I decided to invite to a sleepover even when we were high schoolers, you still said yes. Well, I did bribe you with homemade cookies and pizza, but still, you came. I made a little sensor go off when my window was opened. After the shrill ringing in my ears went off, I quickly woke up and followed you. For the whole night I saw you win car races, sneak into jewelry stores, still designer clothes, and pickpocket quite the number of wallets. I was amazed and yet I wanted to protect you, why did you have to do this why did I see you give a wicked grin before hooking up with a complete stranger. I told Yoongi about it because at the time he seemed like he would understand you since you did hack a lot and I thought he could see where you were coming from since he grew up with a rough past also. So I asked him to watch out for you and one day he found your sister and went to talk to her. That day you were stressing about finals taking the preMCATS, so I didn’t want to say anything. Months went by and you didn’t come home with bruises or with split knuckles. I decided to not go any further and here we are now here we are 14 years of friendship and counting.” He raises his bottle of coke to toast.

“What’s Min Yoongi like?” You ask after a couple minutes of silence, both of you processing one another’s hidden life.

“I trust him with my life and with yours. I think you two would be a fit and I’m not pressuring you or anything, but you’ll always have a family with BTS.” he says quietly.

“I know, that day you followed me, it was sort of obvious because you were acting weird the next day and I saw a kid that looked strangely like you and from the way you were shrinking back in the shadows at the car race, I knew it was you. You were such a dweeb.” You laugh looking at his face.

He flicks your nose and you turn the tv on to a rerun of Friends. As the episode ends you check your phone and a reminder pops up for your date at 8. The time reads 7:30. He’s picking you up at 8. Shit! You only have time to take a quick shower and put on BB cream. After missing up your light makeup you undo your hair and quickly blow dry it. As you deem your hair somewhat decent you slip on the shoes, shove your daggers, phone, and a wad of fake hundreds just for fun. You look at your phone and see that you have a minute to spare. Smiling to yourself you walk to the front door slipping on the pumps that are awfully tall and open the door to see a wide-eyed Yoongi.

You put your hand on his chest and gently push him away as you call over your shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow hungover probably so don’t wait up for me.” You flash Tae a wicked grin and close the door before he can retort.

“Wow, you look pretty nice for someone who got ready in just thirty minutes.” Yoongi remarks as you wait in the elevator.

“Taehyung texted you?” You roll your head at him.

“Yeah, he told me to be late since you two were busy having a pow wow moment, so I was planning on giving you an extra second.” he smiles sarcastically at me.

“So where are we going?” You ask as the both of you step into the garage and he walks you over to his red Ferrari 488 GTB. Show off much.

He opens the door for you and you smile as you slide into the low seat. After he turns the car on with his fingerprint he asks, “Wanna go gambling?” He pulls out a wad of cash from the inside pocket of his suit.

“Why I thought you would never ask?” you match his devilish grin as you pull out your wad of Benjamins.

His grin widens into a smile as he asks, “Are those fake?” he raises a brow.

You gasp and place a hand to your heart and ask, “How could you know me so well?” You smile at him.

“What’s the bet then?” A playful glint shines in his eyes.

“I say we last thirty minutes before they throw us out.”

“I say twenty-five if we start winning too much. Do you know how to count cards?”

“I only know a little bit, but I can easily make a million throughout the casino. How about we make a deal?” You propose.

“And what deal would that be?”

“The one who can get away with the most money real or fake within thirty minutes. Do you know how to count cards?” You turn to look at him.

“No, but I know when to add and when to stop, so I would say that I’m more logical and luck.”

“Well I’ll give you a head start with letting you get one thousand more than me, think of it as leveling the playing field.” You flash him one of your wicked grins that made prisoners quiver in their chairs.

“A gentleman’s deal and no pickpocketing.” He sticks his hand out to shake.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just keep that money for myself.” You sigh looking out at the window as the buildings pass by you.

“What does the winner get?”

“The loser pays for the next date.” you look at him.

“Why would that be losing? Because I plan to rent out an entire amusement park and it’s been awhile since something was at stake for me, so why not?” You pull out one of your sparkling daggers and you hear Yoongi take in a breath.

The blade reflects the city’s lights off of its blade and the curved edge glides easily across your palm, not drawing blood, but the motion of using it makes your blood sing. It’s been a couple of months since you lasted used them for a mission of sorts, but tonight might be a night that will make your blood boil with excitement.

��Have you ever killed a person?” He asks in the silence.

“Besides my dad yes. The enjoyment of having all the power and making those big buff men scream in pain makes me sleep soundly every night. I do not kill unless the person deserves it. I only make those you raise their hands on a woman or gamble their daughter’s college savings away suffer. I make sure karma comes back to them. Whether it be them losing a finger or their family is entirely up to them.” You answer him in a bleak voice, letting him gauge whether or not he can handle your storm.

“So you’re a vigilante on your nights off of being a med student?” he muses.

“Occasionally, but I’m also a hired assassin when I need some quick cash,” you shrug.

He gives a bark of laughter and quickly looks at you fondling your beloved dagger.

“Who gave you those?” he asks.

“I stole them from a rival assassin who I lost my virginity to.” You say nonchalantly.

“Wow, you have quite the life.” he jokes.

“How much do you know,” you ask quietly.

“That you were safe and never in danger I never dug deep it felt too invasive, so I just made sure you had no police record and any stray cameras that caught you on their feed disappeared or turned elsewhere.” He says with equal quietness.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile as you hold his hand.

“You know that if things do go array tonight call Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin, Jin, J-hope, or Namjoon. Their numbers are already saved in your phone.” His voice leaves no room for questions.

“I can handle myself if you haven’t already noticed,” you smirk at him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“Is that what this tough girl act is?” he raises a brow at me.

“That plus to see if I can scare any dates off. If they can’t handle the little things then what would happen if I came home covered in blood and he needed to stitch up my bullet wound?” His hands tighten around yours and you roll your eyes at his inner protectiveness come out. Ah, men and their primal instincts.

After a couple of minutes, the car slows down and you look at each other.

“May the best scammer win and the loser suffer,” you smirk at him before opening the car door and glide into the casino looking like a single woman looking for a good time.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts v #bts taehyung #bts tae #bts min yoongi #bts suga #bts gang au #reader x yoongi #reader x suga #bts jin #bts jungguk #bts namjoon #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts au #bts college au

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tokikurp · 6 years

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Second Chance- Chapter 1

Summary- It's tough losing your best friend just months before your wedding, especially when he was supposed to be your best man. Tendou would have never guessed, he would have to live through this scenario. Learning how to live on, as Semi would have told him to. But one rainy evening, a newborn is left at his and his husband's doorstep.

And it will change their lives forever.

Warning- Major Character Death

Pairing- Ushijima Wakatoshi x Tenou Satori (UshiTen)

AU- Reincarnation

Word count- 3K

Don’t blame me if you cry ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

AO3

Tendou and Ushijima had been together for a long time, getting close to six years with the end of October. They became a couple when they and the rest of the third years retired from the volleyball club, passing on the torch to the new team (and after doing those 100 jump serves). Their friends saw it coming and were all smiles when the couple was spotted holding hands together.

At the beginning of April, just five months after getting together, a new chapter had begun for them. For Ushijima, it was attending the university on a full volleyball scholarship (with the interest in majoring in business). For Tendou, university...wasn’t in his plans. Instead, an apprenticeship with a mangaka was. When the middle blocker brought it up to the wing spiker, Ushijima encouraged him to take it.

“This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity, Satori. Take it. This is your dream and I will one hundred percent support that dream.” Ushijima stated. Not many people would have supported this idea, thinking it was a waste of time. Saying just go to university and get a decent paying job. Do not take the risk.

A lot of people told Tendou that.

Tendou didn’t listen to those people and took it. Ushijima stood by him and became his biggest supporter. This apprenticeship meant Tendou would have to give up a lot of things (such as a social life) and was going to be spending long hours working with the mangaka. But that didn’t matter to the wing spiker, as long as Tendou was happy, that was all that mattered. So Ushijima wouldn’t question why there was ink on Tendou’s face or pencil lead smudged on his hands; instead he would clean them off and ask how his day had went.

Not only was Ushijima supporting Tendou’s dream; but Tendou was also supporting Ushijima’s dream, going professional. The redhead became not only Ushijima’s biggest supporter, but his cheerleader. Cheering for him as loud as he possibly could at every single game Tendou was able to attend. It also meant long training days and not getting back to their shared apartment until seven or even eight that evening. All the university’s games were not always home and Ushijima would be gone from Friday afternoon until Monday morning (of course, this depended on what university they were going to).

October 29th, their anniversary. Six years, it had gone by so fast. It only felt like yesterday when they had kissed after confessing at eighteen years old. Just five months away from high school graduation and about to start a new part of their life, a new journey they started together.

December 16th, a day Tendou didn’t see coming. Japan made it into the world championship, playing against Team Italy. Ushijima showed Italy why his nickname (Super Ace) had stuck around with him all these years. And introduced to them a new nickname they’ve never heard before.

“MIRACLE BOY! WAKATOSHI!” Tendou hollowered at the top of his lungs with a crowd of fans surrounding him, cheering for a point for Japan. Ushijima smirked and looked at an Italian wing spiker, who stood across from him and looked confused.

“Miracle Boy?” He asked, raising eyebrow.

“That would be me.” Ushijima responded, straightening up and looking at the player, who just looked even more confused.

But that confused expression vanished when Japan won the world championship, everyone cheering as the team ran around the court in excitement and hugging one another. Tears of joy in their eyes, they had won! They had won the volleyball world championship, JAPAN did! Tendou, felt so incredibly proud of the Japan team, but also Ushijima. As the press surrounded the team and coaches, Tendou watched as the wing spiker broke away from the chaos and jogged over to the Japan cheering section.

“Satori! Come down here!” Ushijima called out, holding his arms out to the former middle blocker.

What? Ushijima wanted him to come down onto the court? Why? Well he might as well find out, jumping from the stand and being caught by the wing spiker. Before Tendou could ask a question, the wing spiker bent down on one knee and taking Tendou’s hand into his.

“Satori, would you marry me?”

Let’s just say, the cameras caught the moment Tendou screamed yes at the top of his lungs and tackled Ushijima to the ground. Ushijima later confirming online that yes, he proposed to his boyfriend of six years and would be getting married.

Their engagement was the trending tweet the next morning.

The moment they got back to Japan, friends and family members were calling and texting them congratulations on their engagement. Such an exciting time and a time to celebrate. The old Shiratorizawa team threw a small party for their friends at a restaurant to celebrate their engagement. In the middle of celebrating though, Tendou nudged Semi to follow him outside the party room. Although the former setter was confused, he still followed Tendou to the outdoor patio of the restaurant.

“Eita, I want you to be my best man when Wakatoshi and I get married.” Tendou said right away, not letting Semi even ask why they had come out. At first, the former setter wasn’t able to answer, having being stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected to be suddenly confronted with this kind of question.

“Satori...of course!” Semi answered with a big smile crossing his face. Tendou gasped and hugged him tight.

“Thank you, Eita-kun! It really means the world to me.”

“Satori, you’re my best friend. It’d be an honor to stand with you on your big day.” Semi responded, hugging his best friend back.

Wedding planning started and a date was picked.

October 25th

June meant there were only four months left until the wedding and there was still plenty of stuff left to plan. Neither Tendou nor Ushijima had not known how much planning would go into a small ceremony for late October. Geez, so much to book ahead of time and so many decisions to be made. Thankfully, their friends and family were helping them plan this wedding and making it much easier to make it happen.

Or otherwise, they would probably not get anywhere close to finishing on time.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and Tendou was currently sketching out the next chapter of his manga; while he waited for a call from Semi. Semi had been a big help during this planning process and Tendou couldn’t have been more grateful for his best friend’s help. The call he was waiting for is in regards to their wedding suits, his and Semi’s suits. The two best friends opted to have matching suits and Semi knew a tailor, who could possibly make them.

Tendou just needed to know how much it would be for their suits and when they could come in together to get measured. So while he waited, he went on with his day and that meant finishing up the sketch. Also he waited for Ushijima to return home from training (but that was still about three hours away).

Before he knew it, the former middle blocker zoned everything out for the next two hours. Focusing on his chapter and aiming to have it finished and ready to be inked the next day. That was until his phone began to ring.

“Oh that must be SemiSemi!” Tendou picked his phone, but noticed the caller ID.

DOCTOR REON

With a raised eyebrow, Tendou answered.

“Helllllo?”

“Sa...Satori.” Came the broken voice of Reon. Was...was he crying? It sounded like the former wing spiker was crying, he could hear sobs coming from the other end of the phone. What in the world was going on?

“Reon? What’s wrong? Hey come on bud, take a deep breath and calm down.” Reon was a man that wasn’t afraid to show his emotions, but with his new responsibility of being a doctor, he had been getting better of hiding them when wanted. But why was he calling Tendou? Reon usually called Yamagata if he was upset about something and by the sounds of it, he was an emotional mess. Tendou swallowed before asking another question.

“Did...did you lose another patient?”

“S-Satori.” But Reon didn’t say anything else after that as another sob took over him. Something...something didn’t seem right and Tendou didn’t like the feeling settling down in his stomach.

“Ohira-san, I’m sorry.” Tendou heard someone say, maybe a nurse? “I know this call is tough to make, but he has a right to know.”

“I know, I know.” Reon responded, taking a deep breath. ��I never...I never thought I’d have to make this call.”

Reon’s voice sounded so...so sad. Tendou wished he had a second phone so he could quickly text Ushijima to make sure he was alright. Hearing his friend take a deep breath, Tendou prepared himself for whatever the doctor is about to tell him.

“Satori, I’m...I’m so sorry.” Reon finally said.

“...Reon, you’re scaring me. Whose hurt? Is Wakatoshi-”

“No, Wakatoshi didn’t come in. Satori...it’s Eita.” Reon cut off.

“SemiSemi? Is he okay? What happened?” Reon didn’t respond for a moment, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

“Eita was in a serious car accident and he-he...he didn’t make it through the surgery.” Reon finally said and he broke down, his phone falling into his lap as he embraced the person next to him.

Tendou sat there, eyes blinking as the information processed in his mind. Semi, his best friend, his best man, had been in a car accident. A car accident that was serious enough to send him to the hospital and his injuries had required surgery. A surgery he didn’t make it through…

It finally clicked and Tendou’s eyes widened.

“N-no. No, that’s not right.” He managed to get out. “No! Reon! Don’t play around with me!”

This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be true! His best friend couldn’t be...couldn’t be dead. Reon picked up his phone and sniffed, whipping his eyes.

“I wish I was lying, I really wish.” His voice cracked. “I really wish, Satori.”

The phone dropped from Tendou’s hand as tears began to stream down his face. He tried to stand up, but only crumbled to the floor. He sobbed and sobbed as he curled himself into a ball, not noticing Reon hanging up. His best friend, his best man was gone.

“SATORI?!” Ushijima’s voice called out not even ten minutes after receiving the bad news.

Reon had called and informed Ushijima of the bad news and said he needed to get home to check up on Tendou. The wing spiker rushed into their apartment and found his fiancé on the floor in a fetal position. An emotional mess. A person who had just lost one of the most important people in his life. Ushijima looked at him, his own eyes watering as he watched Tendou look up and slowly sit up. Tendou’s sclerae were the same color as his irises, red, from all the crying he had been doing.

“‘T-Toshi.” He managed to get up, but his sobbing took over.

Ushijima didn’t say a word, but sat down on the floor and embraced him. Tendou broke down in Ushijima’s shoulder as the wing spiker’s own tears started to fall. They held each other for dear life, not wanting to let the other go and...something happening to them. They didn’t move from the floor until that evening, but even in bed, they didn’t let each other go.

They didn’t expect to return to Miyagi to say goodbye to their friend. But then again, nobody expected to return home to say goodbye to someone as young as Semi was. He had only been twenty-four. He had his whole life ahead of him, but it was cut short thanks to a man’s idiotic decision to drink and drive.

That man was currently awaiting trial.

The old Shiratorizawa team all met up at Ushijima’s childhood home to attend both the wake and funeral together. Even Coach Washijou and Saitou Akira went with the team. Because of the busy schedules, the next time the whole team was supposed to meet was in October. During Tendou and Ushijima’s wedding on the 25th. But here they were, meeting up a whole four months early to say goodbye instead of celebrating.

Finding Semi’s family was heartbreaking, especially seeing his Grandmother not being her typically bubbly, loud self. Instead, they saw a heartbroken woman, grieving over the death of her beloved Grandson.

“Semi-san,” Washijou started, bowing to the family. “We are deeply sorry for your loss and we send our condolences.”

Shiratorizawa also bowed.

“Thank you for coming, Washijou-san.” Semi’s Mother, Koi, thanked with a small smile. Semi had had his Mother’s sharp brown eyes. “We appreciate it.”

“Of course. He was a fine young man I got to know over his three years at Shiratorizawa.” Washijou nodded.

“Again, we appreciate you all for coming.” Semi’s Father, Yoshino, nodded with a sad smile. Yoshino had the same blonde ash color Semi had. Washijo nodded and placed a hand on the Grandmother’s shoulder.

“He’s up there with your husband. He’s in good hands.” Mentioning Semi’s Grandfather, who he had never gotten to meet as he had passed away just a few years before Semi was born.

Tendou watched as she put her hand on top of the man’s hand and nodded. She didn’t say anything, Tendou didn’t blame her. He’d probably- not probably, he knew he would start to cry if he was in her spot. Semi meant everything to her and she meant everything to him. As Washijou stepped aside, the rest of the team gave their condolences before moving onto where the wake would be happening.

The next evening after the funeral, guests gathered at the Semi home to enjoy food that had been brought by Koi and Yoshino’s co-workers. People talking and laughing about everything, Tendou couldn’t believe there were people laughing, after they had just said goodbye to someone. But he just figured it was better to start moving on then just moping around. Shiratorizawa stayed together, eating and talking on the stairs of Semi’s childhood home. Looking at all the pictures of when their friend was a baby until now. They all told stories about their days at Shiratorizawa and faovirte memories they had with Semi.

Tendou had to get up, he needed fresh air. No one stopped him, everyone knew he was taking this the hardest. He walked into the backyard to find only one person outside and that was Semi’s Grandmother sitting on the swing. She looked up when the door opened and saw Tendou, who was going to leave, but she patted the seat right next to her. She wanted him to join her.

“Hey Grandma,” Tendou greeted her as he sat next to her and laid his hands on top of hers. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh I’ve been trying, sweetie. I’ve been trying, but it hasn’t been easy.” She sighed and looked up at him, removing one of her hands from his grip and touching his cheek. “How have you been holding up, dear? I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’ve been the same. I keep thinking this is some nightmare that doesn’t want to end and I’ll wake up and Eita is blowing my phone up, telling me to wake up.” He chuckled at that last part, wishful thinking that he knew was never going to happen.

“I’ve been thinking about you and the others.” Grandma Semi, as everyone called her, treated the whole team like her own Grandchildren. Tendou knew she was worrying about them after this happened, that’s just how she had always been. Tendou nodded and they didn’t say anything for a few minutes before he spoke up again.

“Grandma I don’t think I can do it.” Tendou said, tears spilling over. “I can’t get married without my best friend by my side. Grandma I just can’t! I need Eita by my side.”

“Satori, look at me.” Grandma Semi said, grabbing Tendou’s chin and making him look at her. The former middle blocker moved to looked at her, his tears falling onto her hands. Although her eyes were are full of sadness and also watering up, she smiled at him.

“Eita wouldn’t want you to cancel the wedding because he wasn’t there. He would have been upset and angry that you threw away all the money you put towards the wedding and ended up cancelling because of him. Eita would have wanted you to marry Wakatoshi no matter what and honey, I know it’s hard. I really do know it’s hard, but you have to move on. And moving on means getting married in October.” Grandma Semi sniffed, tears falling now.

“I know he would have, but he’s been my best friend since we were first years and...he’s gone. He’s been there for everything.”

“Losing someone close to you is hard and moving on is just as hard. But listen to me Satori, as long as you never forget him, he’ll always be with you. He’ll be here,” She pointed to his head. “And here.” And to his heart.

“And you bet your bottom dollar he’ll be standing next to you on your wedding day. But in spirit. Smiling at you as you say ‘I do’ to Wakatoshi.” Grandma Semi smiled. Semi had had the same smile as his Grandmother and it gave Tendou some comfort. He leaned forward and leaned against her forehead, nodding.

“Wakatoshi and I already talked about it, we’re going to have an empty seat with his picture sitting in it.” Tendou told her, a smiling cracking for the first time this whole week.

“What a wonderful idea.”

Four months later, October 25th arrived and the wedding went on as scheduled.

Like he told Grandma Semi (who also attended with Koi and Yoshino), there was an empty seat with Semi’s picture in it. Tendou didn’t ask anyone else to stand for him and so, Ushijima didn’t have anyone stand with him. To him, it wasn’t fair that Ushijima’s best man (who happened to be Reon), would stand with him when Tendou didn’t have anyone standing with him. So, no one stood with them.

During the reception, Tendou took a quick breather outside and looked up at the stars. The night sky looked gorgeous with the glowing moon and twinkling stars and not a single cloud to cover it’s beauty. He smiled and leaned against the railing as he looked at the stars.

“I got married, SemiSemi. I wish you were by my side, but I know you were. I just couldn’t see you. I know you’re watching us and dancing with your Grandpa up there.” Tendou chuckled. “You party animals. I’ll see you later on, Wakatoshi is going to be wondering where I am so I better go back instead.” Tendou smiled up to the stars, before he turned around to head back inside.

But then, something stopped him and made him turn around. Obviously, no one else was with him. So...why did he feel like there was someone next to him? Like someone had been there the whole time?

“Oi Satori! It’s time to cut the cake.” Yamagata called out as he poked his head outside.

“Coming!” Tendou sing songed as he followed the former libero back into the reception. He looked behind himself one more time to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. Seeing it had only been him, he went back inside.

“LET’S CUT THE CAKE!”

#Haikyuu!!#Reincarnation AU #UshiTen #Ushijima Wakatoshi #Tendou Satori #Ushijima x Tendou #Haikyuu!! Fanfiction #I'M SORRY SEMI I LOVE YOU (ಥ﹏ಥ)#ENJOY 🎉#tokiwriting

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isakeklunddesign-blog · 4 years

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Last week

I did write in my last post that I would do more frequent post going forward, and that really was the plan. But this week have been so jam packed with stuff so it just fell out of my mind. I have been taking notes every day to try and keep up, and I hope this post will be good enough to cover the week that has passed.

Essay Writing Workshop

We started the week with the essay writing workshop. I feel that I could have come more prepared. I did not have a set topic in mind and felt like a blank page when we started talking. We split up in smaller groups and started to talk about different subjects and what the questing really where. It was harder than I thought and we had a hard time getting a discussion going. In our group we talked about ”Prototyping and ubiquitous computing (ubicomp)” and it took some time just to clarify what this is and how we can prototype it. If it's one thing that I brought from this discussion is that I will probably not write on that subject. Right now the topic ”Prototyping and engaging others” seams most interesting for me, but I will research more before I start writing. I do need to start soon though. Realizing that I have not found time for the journal, I don’t want the same to happen with my essay.

Connectivity Workshop

We had our connectivity workshop this week with Peter and Johannes. This time I really was prepared and read up on the likes we got and installed everything. But it still did not work for me so when we started the workshop I had not yet had a successful run on my own computer. I soon realized that I was not the only one with this issue. We spent a lot of time to just making everything work and Peter spend som time with my to just get the installation right on my computer. After a while it was able to run, and I could start to play with the code and the Arduino.

I do feel like there is a lot of work for very little result. When using the Arduino IDE, I feel confident and can play around a lot. When doing it in JavaScript, I’m not confident in how it works, or why it works. It’s so many different libraries and plug-ins working together that the troubleshooting becomes very hard. Especially when we as a full class, with the teachers, have to put so much time in to just understanding and installing.

If we decide to make a product that will be connected to a website and we need this sort of features, I will need to go back and really try to understand what is going on. At the moment it makes me really confused and I’ll probably use the Arduino IDE as long as possible.

Project 2

Over the entire week we have been working with Project 2. And it has not been easy. Late last week we met with Clint and Johannes and did not get any good feedback. We were not able to communicate the research we had done, I we did not have any clear ideas or paths. So last weekend and the beginning of this week we decided to each focus on a sport and do observations and interviews. I went to the climbing gym in Malmö do do observations and soon found common issues in communication between climbers and spotters. I did some sketches and typed down some problems, ready to bring to my group. Since I had more time I also did an interview with my mother who is a frequent runner for recreational purposes and asked her if there might be any issues with the communication. We talked about having the phone on you while running and how that can be distracting. I was able to find some articles and other research done that actually supported this and felt that I had something to bring to the group. After our first meeting though, I soon found that this was probably the most research we had as an entire group. Some had not done anything at all, and some had simply given up when they did not find what they thought they would find. I don’t mean to throw anybody under the bus, but I did feel like I lost a lot of energy when the effort from the group was not there. We started brainstorming to come up with different ideas for the meeting with Johannes on Friday, but it was hard since most of the stuff we could think of came only from my research, which after a while is hard to empty any more than we had already done.There is also some people in the group that just don’t show up and don’t communicate, or are very late. I’m struggling between focusing on my own and getting the most out of this education, and having to be a leader in the group just to make sure that people actually show up and do their part.

In the end we had 4 ideas to show Johannes on Friday, and we have one that we do like more. We talked and got dome good feedback on how to move forward, and I sincerely hope that this will help the group to come together, now that we at least have something to work with.

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years

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A ‘radical alternative’: how one guy changed the sensing of Los Angeles

In the 1960 s, British architectural critic Reyner Banham said his love for the city that his fellow intellectuals disliked. What Banham wrote about Los Angeles redefined how the world realized it but what would he think of LA today?

Now I know subjective opinions can vary, the reporter Adam Raphael wrote in the Guardian in 1968, but personally I calculate LA as the noisiest, the smelliest, the most unpleasant and most uncivilised major city in the United States. In short, a smelling sewer …

Three years later, Raphaels words appeared in magazine again as an epigraph of Reyner Banhams Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies “the worlds largest” exuberantly pro-Los Angeles book further written. Ever since booklet, it has shown up on registers of enormous volumes about modern metropolitans even those being prepared by people who consider Los Angeles anything but a great American city.

Somehow, this notebook that attracted so much better of its initial advertising with shock ethic( In Praise (!) of Los Angeles, gibed the New York Times refreshes headline) has obstructed its relevance through the decades, such that newly arrived Angelenos still read it to familiarize themselves. But what can it school us about the Los Angeles of today?

An architectural historian a decade into his vocation when he first visited, Banham knew full-well that his fellow scholastics hated Los Angeles. How and why he himself happened so avidly to appreciate it constitutes the core question of his work on the city, which culminated in this slim volume.

The many who were ready to cast doubt on the worth of the enterprise, he reflected in its final chapter, included a discriminated Italian inventor and his wife who, on was found that I was writing this work, doubted that any person who has cared for architecture could lower himself to such a project and walked away without a word further.

The project began when Banham wreaked his shaggy whisker and wonky teeth to Los Angeles and was indicated that he desired the city with a fervour, in the words of novelist and Bradford-born Los Angeles expat Richard Rayner. Learning at the University of Southern California, who applied him up in the Greene brethren architecturally adored Gamble House in Pasadena, Banham had a privileged basi from which to explore. But what “hes been gone” looking for, and the route he wrote about what he saw and seemed, redefined the acces the intellectual world-wide and then the wider world realized the city.

Reyner Banham with his shaggy whisker and wonky teeth in 1968. Image: Peter Johns for the Guardian

Not that he affirmed his love right there on the tarmac at LAX. Banham initially received the city incomprehensible a reaction said that he shared numerous reviewers, wrote Nigel Whiteley in the study Reyner Banham: Historian of the Immediate Future.

Banham first attempted to publicly explain this cutting-edge metropolis, saturated across its enormous cavity with electronic devices, synthetic chemicals and televisions, in four 1968 BBC radio talks. He told to seeing how “hes come to” tractions with LAs embodiment of the experimental: its experimental shape and infrastructure, the combinations of cultures it accommodated, and the experimental lifestyles to which it gave rise.

But even an appreciator like Banham had his qualms with research results. In Los Angeles you tend to go to a particular lieu to do a specific thought, to another to do another thing, and finally a long way back to your dwelling, and youve done 100 miles in the day, he deplored in the third largest talk. The distances and the reliance on mechanical transportation leave no room for accident even for joyous accidents. You strategy the day in advance, curriculum your activities, and waive those random meetings with friends and strangers that are traditionally one of the reinforces of city life.

Nevertheless, to Banham this un-city-like municipality nursed out a promise: The unique significance of Los Angeles what provokes, plots and sometimes repulses me is the fact that it volunteers progressive alternatives to almost every urban thought in unquestioned currency.

In his subsequent landmark book, Banham enumerated Los Angeles leavings from conventional urbanism, as well as from all the rules for civilised living as they have been understood by the scholars of modernity, with obvious satisfy. It seemed to legitimise a modeling he had already, in a 1959 section, recommends to change the age-old perception of a single dense core surrounded by a wall.

Civilised living in suburban LA. Photograph: University of Southern California/ Corbis via Getty Images

Banham foresaw the city as scrambled egg, its shell burst open, its business yolk mixed with its domestic white-hot, and everything spread across the landscape, its evenness perturbed exclusively by occasional specialised sub-centres. A visitor to Los Angeles today might discover the city was indicated in merely the same way: as a network of nodes, a constellation of urban villages, an exercise in postmodern polycentrism.

Banham employed another paw in the eye of diehards who insisted that a city should have just one strong centre with his short chapter A Note on Downtown, which opens with the words, … because that is all downtown Los Angeles deserves.

From its fetishised formations such as the Bradbury Building and Cathedral of Saint Vibiana to its brand new office towers in their standard livery of dark glass and steel, Banham wrote that everything stands as an unintegrated scrap in a downtown situation that started to deteriorate long ago out of sheer irrelevance, as far as one can see.

The notebooks contrarianism indicates the contrarianism of Los Angeles itself, which, insofar as it acts the functions of a great city, in terms of size, cosmopolitan form, imaginative vitality, international influence, peculiar way of life, and corporate temperament[ substantiates that] all the most admired theorists of the current century, from the Futurists and Le Corbusier to Jane Jacobs and Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, have been wrong.

Filled with photos and sketches, Banhams book on Los Angeles fractions its subject up into the four ecologies of its subtitle: the beaches and beach townships of Surfurbia; the Foothills with their ever more elaborate and expensive palaces; the utilitarian Plains of Id( the only parts of Los Angeles flat enough and standing sufficient to are comparable to the cities of the Middle West) and the famous, then notorious, freeway organisation he dubbed Autopia: a single intelligible home, a coherent state of mind in which Angelenos invest the two calmest and most rewarding hours of their daily lives.

The 1893 Bradbury Building in downtown LA was an unintegrated scrap in Banhams gazes. Photograph: Michele and Tom Grimm/ Alamy

Between sections on the citys ecologies, Banham examined the buildings found in them. Populist, stylistically promiscuous, tradition-agnostic and often deliberately impermanent, Los Angeles architecture has, of all the citys ingredients, gleaned distain the longest. There is no reward for aesthetic virtue here , no penalty for aesthetic crime; nothing but a vast cosmic apathy, wrote the novelist James M. Cain in 1933.

More than 40 year later, Banham met a stylistic reward of Tacoburger Aztec to Wavy-line Moderne, from Cape Cod to unsupported Jaoul vaults, from Gourmet Mansardic to Polynesian Gabled and even in extremity Modern Architecture.

He discussed at length the LA building known as the dingbat a two-storey walk-up apartment-block … improved of timber and stuccoed over, all identical at the back but inexpensively, elaborately, decorated up-front, decorated with an aspirational appoint such as the Capri or the Starlet.

In defining dingbats as the real indication of Los Angeles metropolitan id, trying to be dealt with the unprecedented form of residential concentrations too high to be subsumed within the apparitions of homestead living, Banham diagnosed the center and persistent tension, then as now, between wanting to grow outward and needing to grow upward.

Banham attracted out the implications of Los Angeles ostensibly disposable structures not by idolizing them , nor disparaging them, but simply by ensure them as they were. Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown and Steven Izenour would preach the same approaching in their own city classic, Memorizing from Las Vegas, produced the following year: Withholding ruling may be used as an instrument to draw later judging most sensitive. This is a way of draw lessons from everything.

Still, even appreciators of Los Angeles might take issue with this method when Banhams non-judgmental attitude at the least toward the esthetics of American commercial culture starts to look like advocacy for bad taste.

The self-absorbed and perfected Watts Towers. Image: Hulton Archive/ Getty Images

Non-appreciators of Los Angeles certainly did. The painter and critic Peter Plagens, columnist of an 11,000 -word excoriation in Artforum magazine entitled The Ecology of Evil, travelled thus far as to name Banhams book dangerous: The hackers who do shopping center, Hawaiian restaurants and savings-and-loans, the dried-up civil servant in the separation of superhighways, and the forces of showbiz fringies will sleep a little easier and undertaking a lot harder now that their enterprises have been authenticated. In a more human civilization where Banhams doctrines would be measured against the subdividers assault of the territory and the pas specks in kids of my own lungs, the author might be stood up against a wall and shot.

Uncowed, Banham followed the book by starring in Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles, a 1972 video documentary that followed him through one day in the city that obliges sillines of history and interruption all the rules, and inspired within him a passion that goes beyond appreciation or rationale. Stops on the tour included Simon Rodias handmade Watts Towers( a entirely self-absorbed and perfected headstone) to Los Angeles characteristic fantasy of innocence( prominently commemorated on all the delineates in his notebook ); the overgrown regions of the old-fashioned Pacific Electric Railways rusting runways that once tied the whole immense metropoli together; the decrepit canals and beachside bodybuilding facilities of Venice; and a Sunset Boulevard drive-in burger joint.

There, Banham questioned the painter Ed Ruscha, plainspoken and painstaking observer of American metropolitan cliche, what public buildings a guest should examine. Ruscha recommended gas station.

Banham pre-empted objections to Los Angeles metropolitan sort by claiming the word contents very little, had now been written that Los Angeles has no city figure at all in the commonly accepted feel. Yet whatever it does have, he bickered, has made a fascinating, and sometimes even efficient, placed of emergent city phenomena.

Come the day when the smog destiny ultimately descends, he narrated over aerial shoots of Wilshire Boulevards double row of towers and frame-filling vicinities of detached residences, … when trafficking in human beings grinds to a stall and the private vehicle is banned from the street, quite a lot of craftily targeted citizens will be able to switch over to being pedestrians and detect no pain.

Cyclists on Venice Beach … though often of LA is not bike-friendly. Photo: Alamy

The end of the car in Los Angeles? Bold terms for the man who announced Wilshire Boulevard one of the few enormous streets in “the worlds” where driving are particularly pleased after having, like earlier generations of English eggheads who learn themselves Italian in order to read Dante in the original, learned to drive in order to read Los Angeles in the original.

But just as its own language hear on wall street of Los Angeles have multiplied, its own language of mobility has changed there, as has much else besides. How readable would Banham, who perished in 1988 , now find it?

The smog that theorized bane of the citys postwar decades which he always minimise has all but faded. The era of apparently boundless room to gratify an obsession with single-family residences “ve been given” style to one of interpretation cranes sprouting to satisfy the brand-new is asking for high-density horizontal living. They stand not just over a downtown risen miraculously from the dead, but the specialised sub-centres sown all over greater Los Angeles.

Though the ban on private cars hasnt come yet , no recent development stuns any Angeleno who was there in the 1970 s more than the citys new railing transit network, which started to rise nearly 30 years after the conclusion of its Pacific Electric. It grades as such as a success of financing, planning and implementation( at least by the globally unimpressive American standard) that the rest of the two countries now seems to Los Angeles as an example of how to build public transportation and, increasingly, public seat in general.

Readers might scoff at Banham calling the Los Angeles freeway network one of the greater labors of mortal but he has demonstrated more of an ability to see beyond it than many current commentators of Los Angeles. Even though it is vastly better than any other motorway structure of my relationship, he wrote, it is inconceivable to Angelenos that it should not be replaced by an even better structure nearer to the perfection they are always seeking.

Banham detected downtown Los Angeles simply deserved a short assembly devote to it. Photograph: Alamy

Banham also foresaw the rise of the self-driving gondola, so often mooted these days as an alternative solution to Los Angeles traffic woes. But cars that drive themselves( as distinct from Baede-kar a then-fantastical singer sailing method dreamed up for Banhams TV doc, that countenances an uncanny resemblance to those every American driver uses today) come with problems that Banham also prophesied all those years ago. The marginal amplifications in efficiency through automation, he wrote, might be offset by the mental deprivations caused by destroying the residual misconceptions of free decision and driving skill.

Under each outwardly celebratory sheet of Banhams book lies the notion of change as Los Angeles merely constant: no matter how excitingly modern the car and the route, the working day will come to an end; no matter how comfortably idyllic the detached house, it very must fall out of prefer, or into impracticality, sooner or later.

Some of these components that reaped Banhams attention have, after their own periods of infamy, moved fashionable again. Even the humble dingbat has observed a residence in the future of the city, becoming the object of critical analyze and architectural contender.

Banham also determined the future of Los Angeles in other unprepossessing houses, especially one striking and elegantly simple-minded stucco casket on La Cienega Boulevard. Its inventor? A particular Frank Gehry, then virtually unknown but now one of the stronger influencers of the constructed surrounding in not just Los Angeles( his current high-profile job concerns re-making the citys famously dry, concrete-encased flow ), but other municipalities as well. The Toronto-born starchitect became his adopted hometowns architectural emissary only one of the myriad channels in which Los Angeles has influenced the rest of the city macrocosm.

These epoches, the rest of the urban world also influences Los Angeles. No longer struggling under the deceptions of total exceptionalism which prevails in Banhams day, it has, with its towers, develops, ballparks and even bike-share organizations, cleared strides toward the liveability so demanded by 21 st-century urbanists. It now even resembles( if faintly) New York, Boston, London, and Paris those thoroughly schemed , non-experimental metropolitans where, Banham lamented, warring pressure groups cannot get out of each other hair why i am pressed together in a hallowed labyrinth of cultural shrines and real estate values.

In its impressive attempt to incorporate older metropolitan moralities and play by the rules of good urban issues, modern Los Angeles dismisses the opportunities offered by becoming a similarly sacred labyrinth at its jeopardy. Continuing Banhams Los Angeles: the Architecture of Four Ecologies on its syllabus will hopefully protect against the terrible fate of losing its rule-breaking experimental metropolitan spirit.

The engineering-trained columnist regarded Los Angeles as a kind of machine. Though it has come in for a severely necessity modernise of its interface in recent years , nobody has yet written a customers manual more engaged in the city on its own terms as Banham did 45 years ago.

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