#i mean i already like to think he's allergic to angel feathers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gwoongi · 5 years

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lovely ᵕ̈♡˳೫˚∗ (02)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: boyfriend au words: 3744 warnings: crack humour, a liddol bit of fluff, slight suggestive sexual content, jeongguk and y/n being chaotic lowkey & five year old jeno being an actual savage... a/n: happy 2 see such a great response to the lovely couple with part one !!!!!! pls continue to luv and support them (♥ó㉨ò)ノ (pls see series parts on my masterlist!!)

➸ Jeongguk and Y/N play Mom and Dad for a little bit.

Jeongguk could cry. He could quite honestly, genuinely, whole-heartedly cry, right here and right now in the middle of his living room, surrounded by mess and feathers from the bedroom pillows.

He loves kids, don’t get him wrong- my God, he loves kids, and loves how kids can make a house feel like a home, how kids say some really fucking weird things; but, Jeongguk finds that kids are a lot of hard work. He has half the heart to call his parents and say sorry urgently, because children are like tiny spawns of Satan, demons wanting to cause chaos at every corner.

The last time Jeongguk and yourself were given the mission of looking after your niece and nephews, they were much smaller, and therefore easier to look after. All they did was sleep, and cry when they were hungry or needed to pee or poop, and were perfectly content doing absolutely nothing all damn day. Now, three years later, when your sister and her husband are going on a small self-care vacation to Spain, Jeongguk removes himself from the situation to observe the situation, which in description is the view of his living room completely ransacked and bustling with life, crazed children dashing around at full speed, like Mario Kart characters using the star.

It’s so overwhelming that he actually doesn’t even know what to say. When the fuck did they get so hard to look after?

Whenever your niece and nephews came over to visit, they clung to Jeongguk like moths to lamplight. You never knew why. Jeongguk was fun, and easy to get along with, and perhaps his kind-hearted nature was universally loved by all ages. Even when they were babies and newborns, they settled with Jeongguk, staying silent and googly-eyed whereas in your arms they screeched, like banshees or dinosaurs swinging in trees. You couldn’t fault them; Jeongguk was irresistible, maternal almost in the way his voice changed around the kids, the way he laughed at their weird jokes and forced himself into pretend roles, like the mean villain coming to take over their Playmobil hospital.

Eight a.m, that’s when they arrived. Jeongguk had got up at six, eager and anxious, already cutting up salad bowls made up of apple slices and watermelons. Over an overly bitter cup of tea, you heard him ask, “wait, can three year olds eat watermelon?”, and you glared at him to resist the urge to respond with something that may well hurt his feelings.

“I usually like to put them to bed at about eight, but they won’t go to sleep even if you force their eyes closed, so just be firm with them,” is what your sister had said, frantically trying to detach a clinging boy from her leg. Jeongguk blinked owlishly, standing behind you in the hallway as you followed behind her wordless. Maybe Jeongguk didn’t know what firm meant. Raising your voice and being stern with little tiny precious angelic creatures? Never.

(1)

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but you’re boring.”

Five year olds can be blunt and mean. You now know this to be a fact, because the eldest of the four just said that to you, his hands on his hips with his lips in an unamused pout. He stands by the window, one foot on the Playmobil ambulance and the other on his leg like a flamingo.

“What? Why, what did I do?” you ask, confused and honestly, slightly offended. Jeongguk sits off to one side petting the hair of the youngest, his secret favourite because she’s not quite old enough to ask questions or complain.

“That’s what I mean, you’re not doing anything,” he huffs. “You’re supposed to be the bad police officer.”

“There’s no such thing as a bad police officer,” you try to tell him. You pause, realising you’re wrong but also realising that you’re not advised to get political with a five year old, especially one who still thinks the tooth fairy is a real thing. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

“You suck,” comes his reply. Jeongguk snorts, shrugging when you glance at him angrily.

“Stop, you know I’m your favourite Aunt,” you say to him sweetly.

Your nephew, sassy and honest little Jeno, pulls a face and sits back down with a huff, snatching the ambulance off the carpet to thrust the small man inside. “You’re my only Aunt, Auntie Y/N.”

Right.

The not-so-bad-police-officer gets snatched away from you seconds later and you decide, with finality and assertiveness, that you’re done with playing pretend with them. You lift yourself up off the floor, crouching over to take Yeji away from Jeongguk’s arms. Jeongguk pouts, his eyes blown wide as he watches the baby being lifted away from him and towards you.

“Uncle Jeongguk can be the villain,” you suggest, making Jeno forget how uncool you are as he launches into an enthusiastic cheer, followed by his siblings who are making noise just because he is. Jeongguk stares at you, pleading. “Anybody hungry?”

“No thanks, Auntie Y/N,” Jeno replies.

“Oh, do we have animal crackers?” asks Sanha politely, and you nod, taking his hand as you walk towards the kitchen, where a neatly packed bag sits on the counter where you left it when the four little monsters came by your apartment this morning.

Jeongguk lets his body slump as he realises he has nowhere to run, no excuses to pull up, and he positions himself on all fours to get the police officer miniature and indulge in Jeno’s futuristic fantasies of a police officer murdering hospital patients. Honestly, sometimes you have to respect a child’s morbid creativity, even when it scares the living hell out of you.

(2)

“Y/N, did you move Jeno’s inhaler?”

“No, why?”

Jeongguk appears in the doorway to the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck out of a nervous, absent-minded habit. His eyes are glued to the four children in the living room.

“They’re running around a lot, I don’t want Jeno to lose his breath and have an attack,” Jeongguk explains, meanwhile you rummage around in your sister’s handy dandy travel bag and search for the tiny blue inhaler. Jeongguk braves looking away from them and instead over to you, “if it’s not in there, it’s fine, I’ll check the bathroom again.”

You hum, searching blindly. “Yeah, it’s not here, baby. Check the cabinet under the sink, I’m eighty nine percent sure that it’s in one of those plastic boxes.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows push up in amusement: “Jeno’s life is counting on this eighty nine percent.”

“The more you question me, the less confident I get. Check the bathroom,” you reply, shoving a baby carrot into your mouth as you follow Jeongguk out of the kitchen, opting to watch the kids while he rummages around in hordes of bathroom mess. While Jeongguk hurries into the hallway to check the bathroom, you step out into the living room and pause comically.

The four kids seem perfectly happy, loud and obnoxious and covered in a thin layer of white feathers, bleeding from one of the pillows mangled on the floor. Without context, this looks like a murder scene, with crayons broken and split around the floor and the couch throw on the floor next to the Playmobil set, and you’re half praying on everybody’s behalf that those pillows arent the ones from the master bedroom, because you’re pretty sure you don’t have any spares laying around for later.

“Found it,” Jeongguk returns a few minutes later, holding the small inhaler in his hands. After taking a second out of the room, when he comes back he doesn’t quite know what to say. “The mess wasn’t my fault.”

You frown, your hands on your hips. “I know. Maybe you should put on a movie, keep them entertained for a bit so they don’t completely trash our house.”

Jeongguk chews the inside of his lip. “Is it cheating if we call over Seokjin to help? He’s always on kiddie pool duty, he’s better with kids than we are.”

“You’re so good with kids, shut up,” you say to him, gently smacking his arm. “They love you.”

So, he huffs. Stealing a kiss from you, he gently pushes you backwards and then steps across the room, expertly mindful of the landmines of lego on the floor as he grabs Jeno and moves him away from the coffee table, to sit on the couch next to his siblings while Jeongguk retreats to the movie box, filled with animated films that the kids go absolutely bonkers for. You hear the start of an argument over which Disney movie to watch first as you return to the kitchen, chopping up vegetables that, secretly, you know will make you the ultimate uncool Aunt.

(3)

“I hate carrots.”

“You do like carrots.”

A gag. “Vegetables! Yuck!”

With one hand, you rake through your hair, staring tiredly at Jeno and Jaemin as they fuss over the food on their plates. And it’s not even like you wanted to give them carrots! You’re just following the note left for you in the bag, with the instructions of an actual parent being your law. Jeongguk sits at the other end of the table, twirling his fork around his food as he watches, feeling increasingly guilty.

It’s hard being an Aunt, especially hard being the uncool Aunt. He knows it’s just a joke, just something the kids say because you’re looking out for them, and he frowns, looking around the table.

“I’m allergic to carrots,” Jeno says suddenly.

“Don’t lie,” you tell him, aeroplane feeding Yeji who seems to be the only baby present who appreciates your efforts. She laughs and squeals as the spoon of food comes towards her and that makes you smile, animated sound effects as she eats it.

Jeno pouts, “It’s true.”

“Your Mom told me to feed you this, don’t hate me,” you say to him, making your own pout which he, as a stubborn five year old, ignores. “Come on, eat all your food and you can have pudding afterwards. I’ll let you have two slices of cake instead of one.”

He feels tempted. “Can I leave the carrots?”

“No. Carrots will make you super strong,” you explain. “Uncle Jeongguk ate carrots when he was a kid and now he’s real strong, look!”

Jeno glances at Jeongguk, who smiles for effect and encouragement. “Auntie Y/N is right. I hated carrots too, but I wanted to be big and strong so I ate all my vegetables.”

A groan of sadness comes out of Jeno’s mouth. At this point, Jaemin is convinced, wolfing down his carrots that he actually doesn’t hate after-all, considering they’re gone in a matter of seconds. Sanha seems unbothered about the entire thing, quietly eating his food because he knows that he wants that additional slice of cake, even if Jeno is going to refuse it, he is not!

Before you can have a mental breakdown at the dinner table, Jeongguk leans over slightly and looks at Jeno with a gentle and wide-eyed expression, child-like, engaging. “Did you also know that all the good kids on Santa’s nice list eat vegetables?”

Mid-mumble, Jeno freezes, looking at Uncle Jeongguk. “Really?” Intonation, his voice is so high.

Jeongguk nods. “Mhm! Santa said that if you eat your veggies and say thank you to whoever made you the meal, he’ll bring you anything you want on Christmas Day. Don’t you wanna be on the good list?”

Jeno nods furiously. “Yep! Uncle Jeongguk, that’s so cool, you know Santa!”

Eh...If it works. Jeongguk doesn’t argue or disagree as Jeno quickly finishes his plate without protest, seemingly fine at the end considering he just said he was allergic. As he scoffs down the contents of his plate, you look over at Jeongguk and silently thank him, slumping as if suggesting that you were tired. He grins, knowing the feeling.

(4)

Splash.

“Careful, honey, don’t get the floor all wet.”

“Sorry, Auntie Y/N. It was the ducky’s fault!”

Bath time is a chore, surprisingly harder than it was when they were babies and needed extra attention in the water. Sanha sits solo in the bathtub, the sound of Jaemin and Jeno running around in the bedroom an ambience as you crouch by the tub and help Sanha get clean. Yeji is the only child clean and patient, so calm and cute and cuddly and ready to go to sleep the second her bathtime is over. Jeongguk groans somewhere in the apartment, keeping the twins entertained while Sanha finishes up.

“O-kay,” you say, after a few minutes of helping wash away some suspicious chocolate stains off his arms. Most likely super-cool-Uncle-Jeongguk gave them something extra after dessert, and honestly, that wouldn’t surprise you if it were true. “All done! Feel better?”

Sanha nods, letting the duck float away. “Yep. I’m cold.”

“Once you’re dry and changed, we can put on the heating and finish up watching Cars, does that sound okay?”

“That sounds fun, Auntie Y/N! You’re the bestest,” he grins, and you grin too, because honestly, you’re taking coolness points in gasps, and anything to prove you’re not some grouchy unfun Aunt is welcomed and encouraged. Sanha doesn’t make a fuss as he gets dried, shuddering for extra effect and happily snuggling into his duck onesie once everything is dry and ready for him to get changed.

Sanha is a human rocket. He hops into his onesie and races back into the living room, reaching his final destination of Uncle Jeongguk as a loud groan fills the house, likely due to the fact that Sanha has jumped on top of his Uncle, like he always does, just to get the reaction. You sniff, leaning to flush the toilet because apparently they haven’t quite mastered that one yet, and drain the bathtub. The floor sits wet, pooling like an extra tub or the floor of a shower and you sigh, grabbing an extra towel off the rack to soak up the bathwater, the low bubbling sound of the water disappearing briefly out-yelling the terrorsome three out in the living room.

“Need any help, baby?”

Behind you, Jeongguk appears in the doorway, not quite in and not quite out. He hovers, waiting patiently to see if he can find an excuse to stop being a couch for the three kids. You lean over the bathtub, taking out their small toys and setting them on the side with hopes that they will dry overnight.

“Nah, I’m okay,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder with a smile. Jeongguk stands there, having changed, in an oversized jumper and sweats. “What are they doing?”

“Fighting,” Jeongguk says. “I’d break it up, but I wanna see if they’ll learn their lesson once they get hurt.”

“That’s perfect. But fucked. Are we fucked up?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Worked for me and my brother when we were younger. I turned out okay!”

You look at him for a moment with a bewildered look. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

The bathtub makes a gurgle, the water gone and you crouch to pick up the bathmat, hanging it over the small radiator for it to dry faster. Jeongguk then takes several steps backwards as you meet him outside, his smile widening as you close the door and turn off the light, falling into his arms with a soft thud and sigh. His arms wrap around you sweetly, warm and tight, like home. Jeongguk likes weekends for the moments he gets to spend with you, but today, he’s barely seen you in his own home. Longing- Jeongguk tightens his arms around you and presses his lips to the crown of your head, gently swaying you from side to side like a waltz. He knows you feel the same way, the same kind of tired and wanting energy, as your arms lock around him tighter.

“Come on,” Jeongguk mutters, pouting slightly when you pull out of his embrace and glance up at him through your eyelashes. He exaggerates it, humming, and then leaning to press his lips to yours. Moments after he pulls away, he comes back in for another, and another, his hands molded behind your back. “Love you,” he adds in between one kiss, and you hum in reply. It’s enough.

There’s a pitter-patter of feet. “Ewwww! Auntie Y/N and Uncle Jeongguk are having sex!”

You pull away from Jeongguk with such speed that it might give you whiplash; Jeno stands looking slightly horrified in the hallway, near the door to the living room, proud of his rising of ews that follow from his siblings near the TV.

“Don’t say that! Where did you even learn that word?” you gasp, moving towards the five year old.

Jeno shrugs. “Heard it at Mommy’s birthday party. Uncle Taehyung said it.”

You sigh knowingly. “Should have known.”

“Please don’t go around saying that when your Mom and Dad come to get you,” Jeongguk adds in, looking flustered from behind you.

That wouldn’t be the most impressive thing to hear when you walk through the door to collect your kids.

(5)

The bathroom light switches off. Jeongguk closes the door and rubs his face, groaning out aches from his shoulders as he approaches the bed, shirtless, his toes curling into the carpet.

“I swear they weren’t that crazy last time we looked after them,” Jeongguk says, sinking onto the bed. “Have they always been like that? Am I the crazy one?”

“It’s this scary thing called growing up,” you reply, sitting back against your pillows with your phone in your hands, the screen lighting up with new messages from your sister. “Can’t believe you got them to go to sleep without any trouble. It’s giving me baby-fever…”

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna have to ask you to slow down,” replies Jeongguk, sounding winded.

“Everytime you hang out with them, it just proves to me how good you are with kids, and how, you know, someday you might be a Dad and- ugh, you’re gonna be great,” you sigh, followed by Jeongguk grunting with amusement and shuffling to lay right beside you, his nose on your arm. You set your phone down, turning to match together against him like a puzzle. “They’re not shy when it comes to picking favourites. God, they really hate me.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “No, they don't. They love you- you’re so good with looking after them. If I was doing all this alone, there’s no doubt I’d probs forget to feed them at dinner time. I’d straight up order a pizza and forget that kids need certain foods to grow up.”

Laughter suffices as a reply, and that’s that for a little bit. In his head, Jeongguk wants to talk all about how great of a Mom you’ll be, how amazing it would be for him to watch you raise children, his children. He doesn’t say any of these things, because he’s one-hundred-percent certain that you know it all already, and that you’re just modest and insecure about it. So, Jeongguk hums and pulls you closer for a hug, smooching your lips when you’re close enough.

The door is closed. The four kids are sleeping, Yeji so deep in sleep that not even her brothers could wake her up if they screamed. Jeongguk knows this. You know this. So, he moves his hand from your back to your ass, feeling the curve, feeling the smile against his teeth.

“Stop, our niece and nephews are next door,” you warn him, quietly, mumbles against his mouth. Jeongguk smirks, gently nipping your bottom lip with his teeth and pushing his head into your neck.

“And it would suck to wake them up,” Jeongguk replies, worming his way into places hot and inviting. “So, keep it quiet, yeah?”

You huff, rolling to your back and parting your legs as Jeongguk slots in between. “I love when you get bossy on an evening,” you say to mock him and he laughs quietly.

“I love you,” he breathes, and you don’t get time to reply.

He knows, though.

(6)

“And they were good?”

Jeongguk and yourself share a glance.

“Golden,” you say.

Your sister stands in the kitchen, giving you both the stink eye while the three older kids race around the house, excited at the fact their cool parents are home three days later. Honestly, she knows you’re lying, because these are her kids and she knows them better than anybody.

Anyway, she shrugs. “They must always be good for you guys. You can babysit more often.”

Jeongguk tenses in his seat. He loves these kids but, holy fuck, the thought of looking after them again so soon makes him want to throw up. If there is one thing Jeongguk has learnt from looking after three wild rampaging children and one angelic princess baby- but, again, he has no favouritism!-, it’s that it is absolutely harder than it looks.

It’s not enough to put him off though.

When the house is emptied of tiny humans and is left cold and quiet and a little bit messy, Jeongguk stoops to pick up left behind piles of mess on the floor and he finds himself smiling. Now that he thinks about it, it was actually kind of fun. Being a Dad for the day. Then he thinks about being a Dad one day. His eyes find you across the room hauling the hoover out of the storage cupboard and his heart does somersaults.

(7)

[5:45pm] Mean Sibling #1: Tell me why Jeno is talking about how you and Jeongguk had sex [5:46pm] You: OMG THATS NOT TRUE [5:46pm] You: well, i mean… [5:46pm] You: not in front of them !!!! what kind of aunt do you think i am????? [5:49pm] Mean Sibling #1: How does he even know what sex means….how does he know that word [5:50pm] Mean Sibling #1: Hyo is laughing at me. what does my husband know that i don’t [5:52pm] You: that sounds like a you problem [5:54pm] Mean Sibling #1: ok well sorry for accusing you :P gotta give my FIVE YEAR OLD a talk….dear fucking god [5:59pm] Mean Sibling #1: wait a damn second wtf do you mean NOT IN FRONT OF THEM??? [6:00pm] Mean Sibling #1: Y/N ANSWER UR PHONE [6:01pm] Mean Sibling #1: Y/N [6:03pm] Mean Sibling #1: fucker

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howtohero · 4 years

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#285 Wings

As we’ve mentioned, flight is one of the most common superpowers in the world. (So if you’re feeling all high and flight because you can fly, you’re not that special, you need to come back down to Earth.) But not all flight is created equal. Some superheroes can fly under their own power. Some heroes need tech like jetpacks or rocket boots or nuclear powered propeller hats. And some folks have wings. Like birds and such. Now, don’t panic I know that we all believe that birds are intrinsically evil, but this doesn’t mean that anything that has wings is evil. There are plenty of folks and blokes out there with wings who aren’t evil. Butterflies, ladybugs, angels, sentient biplanes. So today let’s get into all of the nitties and the gritties on wings.

Now I know what you’re thinking: How is this guy going to talk about wings? He doesn’t even have wings! Who does he think he is?! Well I’ll have you know that everybody in this office actually did have wings once for a bit. It was the summer of 2013 and Dr. Rapticus had built a de-evolution ray as part of a bet with Professor Lizardzord to determine whether dinosaurs were lizards or birds. Well as it would turn out Dr. Rapticus cheated a little bit and his “de-evolution” ray actually just turned people into birds and he happened to have activated it in our town so we all became birds for a hot minute until some superhero wandered by and dealt with it. So while I was only a bird (and thus deeply and reprehensibly evil) for fifteen and a half minutes, I learned a lot about wings that I will now gladly share with you. (Dr. Rapticus’s plan didn’t even make any sense, if he wanted to prove that birds and dinosaurs are related he should’ve built a real de-evolution ray and fired it at a chicken or something this whole thing was so stupid.)

There are 16,000 nerve endings in a single wing. This means they’re highly sensitive and need to be protected. This can be tricky since they protrude from your back and so you can’t even necessarily see them! 70% of attacks come from behind if you’ve got wings your back is your largest and least defended weak spot. Having wings is like having a cape that feels things. A cape that feels things that you can’t remove. Take it from me, in those 15 and a half minutes I got my wings caught in a window, a door, a car door seven or eight times (don’t ask why we chose that moment to run a bunch of errands). So you need to make sure those feathery fliers are protected. There a bunch of ways you can go about doing this: localized forcefields, wing-armor, blasting your wings with a shrink ray so they’re more manageable. But all of those ways also inhibit your flying! And we can’t have that. If you have wings you might as well get some use out of them! So instead you need to master control of your wings. If you train in the art of gracefully using wings (there are a few bird-run dojos around. I don’t recommend going to the dodo dojo though.) then instead of burdensome appendages that you have to spend a fortune on bandaids up keeping, you can soar wondrously through the sky like a bird and also use your wings in fights! And that’s cool!

(Now seems like as good a time as any to talk about how winged folks put on shirts. For all of you who came here because you’ve just spontaneously sprouted wings. Which has been known to happen when some people reach puberty. As we see it you have four options:

Backless shirts and dresses.

Sew yourself into all of your clothes and then destroy them when you want to take them off.

Go around shirtless

Stretchy clothes! Talk to some of the tailors that work with the superhuman community. Most likely they have access and experience working with stretchy textiles. Superheroes with super-elasticty powers often have clothes made out of materials that can stretch and warp with them. Otherwise they risk tearing or ruining their costumes whenever they use their powers. These textiles are nigh-infinitely stretchable. You can easily stretch them your wings. You can even cut out holes for your wings to fit through that can stretch big enough to fit your wings through and then snap back into shape!)

If you learn how to use them to your advantage (which we did not have the time to do thanks to the aforementioned emergency errands and the extreme brevity of the time where we had wings. We just had to wing it.) they can help you become an even greater hero than I’m sure you already are (I mean, I assume you’re reading these in order and therefore have already learned a ton about how to be a good hero). Wings give you an intimidating yet majestic figure on the battlefield. You can pass yourself off as an angel to scare supervillains or henchmen into repenting their evil ways. You can befriend birds and set up a vast network of avian allies. The only reason most humans don’t have bird friends is because it’s very hard for humans to find anything in common with those disgusting air vermin. But you’ve got wings and they’ve got wings! So maybe there’s something there.

Winged flight is also very different from non-winged flight. And that can either good or bad depending on the circumstances. You’re not at risk of plummeting to your death due to the failings of tech. You can glide to slow your descent or tuck your wings in to speed it up. If you flap hard enough you can create a gust of wind to dispel or disperse airborne attacks, obstacles, or chemical attacks. But you also have to continually focus on flapping your wings in order to stay aloft. Other fliers don’t have to deal with that. You’re also likely to tire quickly from having to manually flap your limbs about, so you might not have the same range as other fliers. If you plan on going for long flights, or on fighting will airborne, keep in mind that you’re going to need a lot stamina and that you might tire faster than the other people in the air with you. So, you need to end sky-fights as quick as you can so you can land safely afterwards. Personally, I recommend going for their wings.

Wings will make you majestic and glamorous but they’ll also make you a bigger target and more easily tired. So before you fly into action remember to make sure that your wings are protected, that you’re well rested, and that none of your allies are allergic to feathers. If you’ve got all that down, and if you’ve undergone the proper training and found a good-fitting top then I wish you the very best of luck, after all, for fifteen and a half harrowing and strange (and errand-filled) minutes, I was just like you. So I guess you can say we’re birds of a feather.

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tonystarktogo · 7 years

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If you have time could you write an ace Tony fic? It would mean a lot as I am asexual and almost never get any representation anywhere and it tends to make me feel more lonely. :( Anyways, thank you in advance.

To be honest you had me at ‘ace Tony’, anon :) You really can’t expect me to resist that. Seriously, I adore writing ace characters (like half the main characters in my non-fanfic works are ace, just because I can).

Since you didn’t specify on anything regarding the plot I just went with a short scene from one of my many not-ready-to-be-posted headcanon ‘verses. I hope it works for you and that this ficlet will make you feel a little better! Also I turned it into a Valentine’s story because I keep seeing these cute Valentine’s cards on my dash.

[Set in a College AU following the tale of Player!Bucky and Asexual!Tony trying to make it work. Today’s edition: Valentine’s Day. Including slight misunderstandings, declarations of love affection, fluff, and Bucky’s potty mouth.]

‘You know I’m ace, right?’ isn’t the reaction Bucky’s been hoping for, but it’s also not a door slammed shut in his face, so he counts it as a win.

Tony squints suspiciously at the roses in Bucky’s arms—yellow and red ones because those are his favourite colours, and Bucky is nothing if not a huge sap, apparently—and Bucky has no doubt the flowers will end up cut open on a lab table, to be thoroughly tested for any unsavourily additions, before the day is over.

He probably shouldn’t smile fondly at the cruel fate lying in these poor flowers’ future. He definitely shouldn’t.

Damn it. Nat’s right, he’s got it bad.

“Unless ace stands for ‘allergic to roses’ I fail to see your point.” Bucky smiles and hopefully holds the bouquet out for Tony to take. Because continuing to cling to them like a toddler to a plushy might look a little silly.

Tony refuses to take them though, crosses his arms in front of his chest instead and scowls up at Bucky. Which is not adorable, that would just be ridiculous.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Tony hisses, voice suspiciously high and fingers restlessly fiddling with the soft fabric of his sweater. “And you want to give me roses?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. He’s visibly agitated, and Bucky wants to reach out and smooth out the furrowed lines on his forehead, except he isn’t so sure his touch would be welcomed right now.

“Yeah.” There’s no point in denying the obvious. And okay, maybe he’s a bit nervous about asking Tony out. A tiny little bit.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” Tony blurts before Bucky has the chance to say anything else—which, in all the scenarios he’s played through in his head multiple times, was admittedly not a reaction he’d anticipated—and promptly slams the door shut.

Bucky blinks in confusion, not entirely sure what just happened.

But before he has time to come up with a reasonable reaction—like picking the cheap lock or fleeing for his life from Natasha’s inevitable wrath when she finds out he has messed up already—the door slowly opens again, revealing a sheepish Tony who’s chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

“You’re not actually here to proposition to me, are you?” he asks, well, mumbles, uncomfortably.

It feels a bit like a slap in the face, to think that after three months of friendship and steadfast support of Tony’s sexuality he’s still immediately jumping to the conclusion that what Bucky wants is sex. To be fair, that’s what Bucky did want, back when he approached the out-of-place looking genius at Clint’s party. But that had been a different situation altogether, it wasn’t like he’d known Tony back then, and—unlike certain fuckheads he could think of—he knew how to take a ‘no��.

Bucky doesn’t let those thoughts show on his face though. For one they would make Tony, who has a bad track-record of making other people comfortable at his own expense, feel horrible, and Bucky is self-aware enough to know that his assumption isn’t unjustified. Neither Tony’s exes nor Bucky’s reputation are of any help in that regard. For another the mere fact that Tony isn’t running, or at least has come back to get a clear answer on what his intentions are, is proof of how far they’ve come.

Tony might not trust him blindly the way he trusts Rhodes, but he does trust him, wants to believe in the best in Bucky, and that makes the stupidly warm, fuzzy feelings in his chest soar. It also makes him want to do a Charlie’s angel roll out of the nearest window because he is not equipped to deal with all this emotional bullshit, just ask Steve.

Bucky ruthlessly squashes that urge and meets Tony’s eyes instead. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me, if that’s what you mean,” he says and he means it.

“Then what do you want?” Tony asks helplessly, like he can’t fathom what else there is, what he could possibly offer anyone. And that, that just isn’t right. That uncertainty doesn’t suit Tony, who’s usually as unapologetically, in-your-face ace as possible, at all.

“I want you to go on a date with me,” Bucky replies, proud of how steady his voice sounds. The flowers he’s still holding also do a great job of hiding the trembling in his hands. “I want to text you silly emoji combinations all the time to show you I’m thinking of you. I want you to call me at the crack of dawn and tell me about whatever brilliant idea you’ve just come up with. I want to see you wear my hoodies every day, and tell you how amazing you look, and trace the lines of your blush, and kiss you on the forehead, and watch you argue with Steve about superheroes, and get tackled to the ground when I get back from the grocery store, and call you pet names that make my friends roll their eyes at our backs.”

And okay, Bucky did not mean to say that latter part out loud. It’s his turn to avert his eyes now, not that that’s what he’s doing, absolutely not. It’s just, the roses are really very pretty to look at and he’s just enjoying the view and fighting the urge to bury his flushed face in them, alright?

Only when Tony clears his throat does he dare to look up again. The blank face greeting him isn’t what you’d call encouraging though and Bucky can feel his stomach dropping what feels like straight through the floor and down another two levels.

“So, just one date then?” Tony asks airily and it takes Bucky a long moment to process the amusement hidden in those dry words and slight twitch of Tony’s lips.

Turns out it’s really hard to calling your crush out on purposefully being a little shit when he has just metaphorically freed you from the crushing weight of a panicked circle of ‘What if I’ve just ruined everything, I never should’ve-’ trails of thought. Bucky feels light-headed with relief and happiness, and really, it’s all he can do to retort with a cheeky “Maybe two” and a ridiculously wide, sappy smile.

“Two? Someone’s very sure of himself,” Tony teases.

It’s the irresistible combination of the challenging smirk and the contradicting softness in his eyes though that dissolves the last of Bucky’s nerves, allows him to regain his footing again. Because this is familiar territory, this he can do in his sleep.

“Oh, believe me, I’m gonna pull out all the stops, you won’t stand a chance,” Bucky grins back, his usual confidence quickly returning now that he knows Tony is willing to give him a chance.

“You’re setting the bar real high when you talk like that, you know that, right?” Tony counters, but Bucky just shrugs, appearing not at all bothered.

“Should the date be a bust—which it won’t be—I still got a back-up plan for after.” He winks obnoxiously.

“Oh?” Tony is trying and failing to hide his curiosity, and Bucky is unspeakably glad that the intrigue seems to outweigh the wariness.

“Yep,” Bucky barrels on, voice deepening on its own accord, “Because after our amazing, movie-scene-worthy date, I’ll shamelessly seduce you into coming over to my place, and you know what we’re gonna do there?” He leans in until he is close enough to whisper the answer right into Tony’s ear. “We’re gonna watch the fourth season of Leverage and eat stracciatella ice straight out of the box.”

“And Nat says your dirty talk’s terrible,” Tony laughs delightedly when he pulls back. Then he pauses. “Wait. Straccia- How did you know my favourite-”

“Remember our first meeting?” Because Bucky certainly does.

Apparently so does Tony, if the way he lights up is any indication. “You remember that?” He sounds awed, which is a silly question, it’s not like Bucky could ever forget. But he only gets half-way through a “’Course I do, doll,” before he has an arm full of excited genius, bright smile and teary-eyes included, peppering feather-light kisses all over Bucky’s face.

“Be my valentine?” he asks breathlessly and Bucky can’t help but laugh, because it’s such a Tony thing to go and steal his line.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he jokes back, which leads to Tony rolling his eyes with a huff, which leads to Bucky trying to ruffle his hair, which leads to Tony losing his hold on Bucky, which leads to the both of them toppling over like the uncoordinated, lovesick fools they are.

In the end the flowers look a little worse for wear, but Bucky really, really doesn’t mind. And neither does Tony, if the way he keeps them on his bedside table for weeks (and rescues them from the garbage can Rhodey sneakily throws them into twice) is any indication.

I’m a little nervous about this one, so any encouragement would be welcome! (Yes, this is me shamelessly begging for validation, you’ve read that right.) In any case I hope you liked it and you have a great day!

@Anon who wrote this ask: If it helps, you can tell me what fandoms you’re in and I’ll make you a rec list for any fics that deal with ace characters I remember. It’s true that there aren’t many of them out there, but over the years I’ve found some real gems you might enjoy. (Please, tell me you’re in the TVD fandom, cause there is an amazing fic in there, and BBC Sherlock has a few- ok I stop now.) Just let me know :)

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engagedfangirl-blog · 6 years

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Main OC: Melody Kumala Other OC: Aurelie Chevalier OC x Jungkook ~ I let out a breath as I heard him sneeze again. Shaking my head, I went back to the couch where he was laying under a pile of blankets, snotty-nosed and coughing. "Really, Jeon Jungkook, you ought to have known better than to run around in that weather without proper outerwear," Aurelie nagged him even as she fetched an extra blanket and a plushie. Jungkook simply stuck his tongue out at my friend and accepted the blanket and plushie. "Aw, don't nag him," I scolded Aurelie, who simply raised an eyebrow at me. "The poor thing's so sick, at least save fussing for later." Aurelie shrugged. "Whatever," she said, throwing on a coat and grabbing her backpack. "I've got to get to the studio; Namjoon still believes that I know how to dance, maybe he won't think it's suspicious when all I know how to do is the stuff I've seen in Bollywood movies." "Actually," Jungkook piped up, croakily, from the sofa. "Jimin-hyung, V-hyung and I might have accidentally told Namjoon-hyung that you lied...?" he smiled innocently in the face of Aurelie's glare. "It is only for Melody's sake," Aurelie said through gritted teeth while pointing at me. "That I do not light your ass up." She turned on her heel and stormed out the door, still mumbling angrily. I laughed a little and went to Jungkook's side, handing him a box of Kleenex. "You know she's just joking, right?" I asked. "Aurelie, I mean. She'd never hurt you, or anyone else. She just... gets really really salty sometimes." Jungkook nodded. "I know," he said, blowing his nose into one of the tissues. "In truth, I just told her that so she'd THINK her secret is out. This way, she'll out herself to Namjoon-hyung, and I'll bet by the time she gets back they'll be an official thing." I gaped at him. "You... are a devious, evil little maknae," I said, although I couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought of Aurelie's face when Jungkook's plan went into effect. Jungkook simply grinned and shrugged. "But I'm golden as well," he winked. I rolled my eyes and stood. Just as I was fixing to remark how much better he must be feeling in order to joke like that, he fell into a coughing fit. "I've got to finish preparing your soup," I said. "In the meantime, take your medicine. Arasso?" "Arasso," he smiled sleepily up at me, snuggling his face into the blankets. I walked to the kitchen, silently cooing at how adorable he was. As I reached for the ladle, I felt my phone buzz. I looked to find a text from Aurelie: "Confessed yet?" I furrowed my eyebrows at the message and replied promptly; "Not yet. Mind your own business. Don't you have bigger fish to fry right now, Mrs. Dance Monster?" I resumed work on Jungkook's soup, making sure it wasn't too hot to too cold, but not before Aurelie sent me another message: "😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏" ~ *time lapse brought to you by Baymax; "Bata-lata-lata-la!"* ~ I walked back into the den, where Jungkook was sleeping. I set the big bowl of soup on a table at one end of the sofa, along with the cup of tea I had made him for good measure. He looked so precious asleep, like a little bunny. I watched the movements of his face, trying to discern whether he was having a good dream or a nightmare and whether or not I should wake him up just yet. Before I could discern any further, his eyes snapped open, startling me backwards. He laughed, coughing a little too. "Done staring?" he asked, grinning widely at me. I sputtered a little before my answer came out: "you're such a little...!!!" Jungkook laughed. "Okay, okay, clearly there's my answer," he said before standing up. I immediately went into Overprotective Doctor Mode. "What are you doing?" I exclaimed. "You're sick! Sit back down, get back under the covers, eat your soup and drink your tea, they'll help your throat, and did you take your medicine...?" Jungkook, who had opened his mouth about midway through my stream of medical orders, finally spoke. "I'm not really sick." I froze for a moment. "Pardon?" "I'm not really sick," he repeated, slowly putting on his angelic, get-out-of-trouble face. "I just pretended to be sick so I could get closer to you. I know you're studying to be a doctor and you can't resist taking care of people when they're sick, so I thought I could do this and see whether or not... well, whether or not you liked me as much as I like you." He laughed a little at the end. "I guess there's not any reason to be shy about it anymore; you should have seen your face when I caught you staring at me...!!!" His soft laugh and turned into an absolute crack-up, and I couldn't help it; I laughed too. "You... ugh I can't believe I even like you!" I laughed and playfully smacked him. "You sly... sneaky... deceiving... scheming... little... maknae!!!" "Hey, hey, hey," he laughed, catching my hands. "You realize you're injuring your patient??" "You're not even sick!" "You want to know how I got myself to look so convincingly sick?" he asked. "I stuck my face in a feather duster. I really am allergic to dust." I stared, shocked. "What the...?!?" He laughed, flopping back on the pillows. "So take care of my allergy, jagiya!!!" I glared and grinned at the same time, fixing his blankets. ~ *another time lapse, brought to you by Cecilos; "I'm very into science these days!"* ~ Kookie's allergies had finally cleared up - thanks to me and my tolerance for his lovable foolery - and we had spent the remainder of the evening on the couch, mostly scrolling through channels looking for something interesting to watch and making conversation. "Is it time to worry about Aurelie yet?" he asked, checking his phone. "She's been out a while...." "Oh, shoot!" I exclaimed, bringing my palm to my forehead. "I completely forgot about her!!!" "Some friend you are," Jungkook teased, earning an elbow in the side from me. Just as I was about to dial Aurelie's number, we heard voices and laughter outside the door of the apartment. A moment later there was silence, and Aurelie walked through the door, blushing madly and grinning from ear to ear. Jungkook and I smirked at each other. "Confessed yet?" I asked Aurelie, smugly. Aurelie smiled and winked at me. "Your boyfriend is still getting a stern telling-off from me, in case you’re wondering," she said, making her way back to her bedroom. "Even if his evil plotting DID end up bringing me and Namjoon together." She slammed the door, and I laughed. "She's going to want to blush in peace," I told Kookie. He smiled and leaned a little closer to me. "Can I make you blush, Melody?" he asked cutely. "You already are," I said, putting my hand up next to his face. He grabbed my hand and brought it down, holding it tightly. He wiggled one eyebrow, changing from cute to suggestive in the blink of an eye. "No, I mean like this," he said before kissing me. It only took a moment before I overcame my surprise and kissed him back, smiling into it.

#kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fluff #kpop fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook

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