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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

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5+1 [Part 3] - Updated

5 times Iida was tickled and the one time he wasn’t.

[PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

[PART THREE] - Not updated

Kanene’s note: Heyaaa! Okay, You may be wondering “Wait, but I already read that!” But there is where you’re mistaken!! This chapter was edited by the amazing, lovely @made-by-jade-222 who honestly did a very good job and that is so cute sxdfghjkjhyg.

Just remembering: Iida is 12 years old now!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Tenya with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa with brief Ler!Tensei and Lee!Aizawa. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.800 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Take a very deep breath, sometimes that can be enough, drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

Iida sat at the kitchen table, smiling to himself as he thought about the day’s activities and drank his special orange juice. It was an expensive brand, so he was only allowed to have it on special occasions, and his birthday was certainly one of them. His parents had planned to host his party in the evening after work so they could be there, along with the rest of their family. As for the day’s activities, Iida would spend the whole day hanging out with his brother, and his two honorary Uncles, Aizawa and Yamada. Iida had offered to help with the decorations, planning, organizing and everything but he’d been forced by his parents to sit back and relax for once. It was his birthday, after all.

(Tenya one day protested at the nickname, pointing it didn’t make sense call them ‘Uncles’ since they aren’t blood related. However, his parents explained that this was just a way to express fondness and closeness for someone you care about. The younger one began to call them uncles with more frequency, except on social gatherings)

Iida finished his breakfast quickly, though he savored the last of his special juice. He was beyond excited to be able to spend the day with his brother and uncles, he didn’t get to do that very often since their work took up most of their time. He was putting his dishes away when the doorbell rang. He answered the door, a polite smile on his face, about to greet his guests. The smile quickly faded.

There stood his two honorary Uncles, Aizawa and Hizashi. They were standing there with mischievous smirks on their faces, sending shivers down Iida’s spine.

“Hello! ~” Hizashi chirped.

Hearing the sinister undertone of his uncle’s voice, Iida slammed the door in his face and backed away. He winced at how disrespectful that had been, but at the moment he valued his safety over his manners. But actually, he wasn’t anxious about what they were going to do. They were always nice and kind with him, making him smile and enjoy himself to give him a break from trying to be perfect, which he couldn’t. (Something they wondered if he’d ever learn.)

Tensei came into view as he quickly walked into the room, giving his little brother a smile as he ran into him. “Who’s at the door?” he asked.

“Uncles!” Tenya said, trying to move around him but being stopped by his brother’s hand on his shoulder. He frowned, blushing as he thought of his impending fate, which was all the more evident now that Tensei was here and would most definitely be on their side. “They are going to do the hideous tr-tradition that you started when I was a kid!” he said, or rather, whined, stumbling over his words.

Tensei laughed, and Tenya pouted, though he’d deny that till the end of time.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that! It’s so nice of them to help me to remember our wonderful little tradition, isn’t it?”

“No! Far from it! Pro-heroes like you shouldn’t be committing such em-embarrassing, hideous acts in the first place, even l-less repeating it yearly!”

“Aww, you’re stuttering! You’re excited, aren’t you?” Tensei asked, smiling knowingly. His little brother could verbally protest all he wanted, but the eager gleam in his eyes gave him away. He ignored the squeaked “NO!” he got in responde and smiled even wider. Tenya made a move to leave, but Tensei grabbed him around the waist and held him close.

“You know, since they’re being so kind by helping us remember our tradition, it’s only fair that we let them participate, right?” Tensei asked, holding onto Tenya tighter as the nearing footsteps made him struggle all the more, trying to get away. “HEY, GUYS! THE BIRTHDAY BOY IS HERE!” he called.

“Tensei!” But the boy was already smiling, squirming excitedly on his brother’s hold, especially when a loud, happy ‘YEAHHH!’ boomed through the house.

“No, no! This is betrayal! Deception! Dishonesty! Trickery! Treason!”

Tensei laughed. “Now you’re just reciting the dictionary!” he said, no hint of regret in his voice, distractedly nodding at his uncles when they appeared at the door. “Look,” he whispered conspiratorially, “I need you to distract them until Shouta lets his guard down so I can sneak up on him. Hizashi would never pass up an opportunity to tickle him too, so while we’re doing that you go run and get something to bribe them with, okay?”

The younger gasped, quickly nodding.

“Right. So, are you ready for your part of the plan, sidekick?”

“YES!” Iida shouted, chopping the air. Tensei squeezed his side to remind him to be quiet, but that only made him squeal. Thankfully, the two men who were walking towards them didn’t seem to catch on to their conversation.

“Now, now. It seems like a certain little listener here is excited for birthday tickles!” Hizashi said, wiggling his fingers in his direction. “Oh! They grow up so fast!” he said, putting a hand on his chest and sighing longingly. “It feels like it was just yesterday that we were playing heroes! And I, the evil LoudChaos, would be defeated by Ingenium Junior and his vicious attacks of kicking his pillows at me!” The blonde ruffled his honorary nephew’s hair and then pinched his cheek playfully, grinning at the groan he got in response.

Iida batted his hand away and faced the two of them, a determined look on his face. “You will never be able to crack me, villains! Not even with embarrassing childhood memories!” he said, gesturing energetically.

“I don’t know about that,” Tensei said, smirking. “I can think of plenty myself, like the time we had to buy at least three more of your favorite plushie because you wouldn’t let us wash the original one was pretty funny- ack! Hey, hey!” Tensei snickered as he tried to dodge from Tenya’s warning kicks, “I was kidding! I was kidding!”

“Want me to hold him?” Aizawa asked nonchalantly, a small quirk of his mouth showing his amusement about the whole situation. At Tensei’s affirmative nod he quickly grabbed Tenya’s wrists and held them above his head with one hand. He smirked at his nervous nephew, who was trying to fight a smile. He ruffled his hair. “Congrats on being another year closer to death, brat. You’re twelve, so that means you’ve got...what, seventy eight more to go?” he asked.

Tenya’s face deadpanned, unamused.

“Ooh, right, twelve!” Hizashi’s fingers were teasingly getting closer, slowly and then even slower, almost touching a spot before pretending to launch at others, resulting in kicks and muffled shrieks from the younger one. “You know what that means, right, Shou?”

“Yep. We’ll have to tickle him for twelve years.”

“Aw, what a pity.”

“No! Lies! That is incorrect!”

“Oh really, not-so-little listener? Please, enlighten us.”

“According to the silly and foolish tradition that you insist on doing every year, you should tickle me for twelve entire minutes. One minute for each year,” Iida said automatically, going into school-mode, unaware that he was only sealing his impending doom. “That’s how it’s always been done.”

Aizawa and Yamada exchanged an amused look, while Tensei was doing his best to hold back his laughter. His little brother was just too precious.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly. We should, what?” Aizawa asked, his voice emotionless. questioned.

“Tickle me!” Tenya repeated, then gasped, realizing what they’d just tricked him into saying.

“Well, if you insist!” Hizashi said, then attacked. He reached out and used his skilled fingers to tickle and tickle every spot he could reach.

There were fingers dancing on his ribs and poking his stomach. There were agonizingly ticklish scribbles and pokes and prodding at his sides, and even a couple squeezes on his knee.

Iida squealed and burst into loud laughter, squirming in his tickler’s grip. The anticipation made him skip the giggles and just laugh right away. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

A lazy and almost unbearably light touch drew shapes on his neck, then scribbled over to his ears and then all the way back to his collarbone, going from one side to another, over and over again. And no matter how much he scrunched his neck, that did nothing to deter the tickle monster.

“Coochie coochie coo, little listener!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

That unbearably embarrassing tease brought his focus back to his more aggressive tickler, who was currently targeting his armpits. His loud laughter, mixed with squeaks, yelps and guffaws at the mix of soft and aggressive tickles made him almost forget the teasing completely. Almost.

“Have a tickle, tickle here!” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the fingers on his neck as his sides were squeezed. “And tickle, tickle, tickle there!” Spidering, tickly fingers on his shoulder blades made him squirm all the more. “Have all the tickles! Tickly, tickly, tickles here, there, and everywhere!”

“YOHOHOHOU WILL NOT DEFEHEHEAT ME!” Tenya shrieked, grinning from ear to ear as chuckles and giggles spilled freely from him.

‘I have to stay strong!’ he thought. ‘I have to keep them distracted so Tensei can get Uncle Shouta!’

That was why he wasn’t fighting back much. He knew he could get away if he really wanted to. It certainly wasn’t because he enjoyed the silly, playful attention and affection from his uncles.

“Of course we will,” Shouta said, pausing to check the timer. “We still have five minutes left. I’m sure you’ll surrender eventually.”

“Nehehehehever!” Iida giggled, taking in several large breaths when his Uncle Hizashi decided to give him a break, leaving only the light tickles from Uncle Shouta to keep the smile on his face. But the break lasted only a moment.

“Hey, hey, hey, little listener!” Hizashi said in a sing-song voice.

Tenya knew that tone. He immediately shut his eyes tightly, a wobbly smile on his face, not noticing that the neck tickles from his other uncle had stopped.

“Aw, come on Tenya! Don’t leave me hanging! Look at me, pleaaase?”

The boy shook his head, eyes still firmly closed.

“Shoouuu, he doesn’t want to see the big, great, amazing birthday surprise I have for him! He’s so ungrateful!”

Shouta scoffed. “No, he’s smart. And besides, it’s not his fault that you’re not charming enough to get him to look at you,” he said.

Hizashi gasped dramatically. “Oh! You wound me! Friendship ended with Ereaserhead! Tensei, you’re my new best friend!” he said.

He thought for a moment, then smirked.

“Buuuut, the vacancy is still open if maybe, just maaaybe,” A wiggly finger tickled under his chin, making Tenya snort, “if a clever teenager with a cute laugh and navy blue hair decides to open his eyes…”

“Yohohou will not crahack me!”

“Please? Please, please, please please please!” Hizashi begged, punctuating every word with a poke to the boy’s tummy, getting faster and faster until finally-

“Stop!”

Iida opened his eyes, finding a very smiley Hizashi in front of him, who made a silly face. He half groaned and half giggled, the former action only due Aizawa’s renewed back tickles, of course.

“Aw, you didn’t find it funny?” The blonde crossed his arms, pretending to think about his next move. “Alright then, I know something that’ll make you laugh!”

And then, in a blink of an eye, he yanked up his nephew’s shirt and blew a gigantic raspberry on his tummy.

Tenya squealed and fell into hysterics, the sudden change in volume surprising Aizawa and making him let go for a moment. Then the man began to snort and try to fight his laughter as his other nephew, Tensei, attacked him from behind, tickling his unprotected armpits. His rumbling chuckles filled the air as Tenya fell to his knees, hugging his tummy and giggling non-stop as Yamada knelt next to him tenderly ruffled his hair, then kissed his temple before standing up. He grinned wickedly as he saw his best friend being tickled to pieces.

“Is it already Tickle Shouta hours?” he asked delightly. He cracked his knuckles and wiggled his fingers in Aizawa’s face, making a show of getting ready. He chuckled, amused, as his silly antics only made his best friend laugh even harder, covering his mouth and laying limply against Tensei, a slight blush on his face. Hizashi descended upon him with tickles, pulling his hand away and sending him into gales of laughter, his legs kicking from the silly tickles and teases he was getting.

And, as Iida laid on the cold floor, still giggling occasionally as he watched his uncle get tickled silly, he found that he didn’t actually mind this tradition. It was silly, it was foolish, and juvenile, but...it was also a lot of fun.

And it made him feel very loved.

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

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Cold Sea Monster

M sea monster X GN reader, 2,713 words.

Winter is a rough time for monsters who usually live in the tropics. Luckily, he can rely on you to keep him warm.

There was a lump in the blankets of your bed. You prodded at it, lips pressed together to hold back a giggle. “You can’t stay in there all day. You know that, right?” The lump wriggled away from your touch. “Come on. I need to make the bed.”

“No, you don’t.” The voice was muffled beneath the cloth. The lump curled into a tighter ball.

“I do. And you need to get out of bed sometime today.” You tugged at the edges of the blanket, trying to force it up. Claws hooked it from the other side, pulled it back down. You swallowed hard against the tidal wave of giggles.

“I’m hibernating.” The lump shifted and you managed to get the grip you needed to wrench the covers up. Your partner wailed as the cold air touched him. “No! Give me back the blankets!”

“Get out of bed,” you said, staring firmly down at him. “It’s past noon.”

He slunk slowly out from under the covers, gazing at you with enormous, sorrowful eyes. His dark, fishy eyes gave him a look like a kicked puppy. Luckily, he’d given you the look so many times, you were immune.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “You can go get in the hot tub, if you want.”

Getting a hot tub had been expensive, but absolutely necessary when your partner was amphibious. He was covered in pale blue scales that melted into skin on his belly. Brightly colored fins stood on the top and sides of his head and his long tail ended in an enormous, frilly fin, though it was folded down most of the time. He crouched on his long, digitigrade legs, peering at you with soulful, sad eyes.

“It’s so cold,” he whimpered. You rolled your eyes.

“I turned the thermostat up.” Keeping a tropical boyfriend warm in the winter was a pretty big task- even with the thermostat in the seventies, he still shivered and complained.

He looked sorrowfully at the electric blanket as you tucked it away. His mouth gaped in an enormous yawn. It was quite a change to see him now from the summer- he was usually energetic, but the instant the temperature started to dip into the forties, all his enthusiasm seemed to drain out of him.

“I set up a fire downstairs,” you said. “And a humidifier.” The drying effect of heating a house wasn’t great for an amphibian either. He yawned again, standing to his full height. He was much taller than you, with long limbs that helped him move through the water.

“Okay.” He snagged a quilt from his blanket pile and wrapped it over his shoulders. “Are you done?”

You smoothed down the last of the bedsheets. “Yeah, I’m done. Do you need me for-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he had seized you and pulled you into his arms. You yelped, startled, though not entirely surprised. He had a habit of picking you up and hauling you around. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, he simply pulled you into the living room. The fireplace was going, and there was a humidifier humming away in the corner. A heating pad sat tucked in a pile of soft blankets.

He wasted no time burrowing into them, you still in his arms. “Hey,” you said, squirming. “Come on, Morgen, I have to go to work.”

He rolled over, smushing you underneath him. “You work from home!”

“Yeah, on my laptop. Which is in the office. And not here,” you said. Morgen grumbled.

“What I mean is, there’s no way they can tell if you’re in the office on time or not. So…” He squirmed over, trying to give you another sorrowful, big-eyed look. It was a bit diminished by the fact that he was mostly covered in blankets and it was hard to see his face.

“Look,” you said. “It’s past twelve. I’m technically on a lunch break right now, but I am going to have to go back to work eventually. And you’re going to have to let me go eventually.”

“That’s what you think,” Morgen said, puffing up his chest. “I could lie here all day. And you’re going to lie here with me!”

You stuck out your tongue at him. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh.” He gave you a playful shove. “Why do you always have to ruin all my perfectly laid plans?”

“If reality has started screwing up your plans, maybe they weren’t perfectly laid in the first place,” you pointed out. Morgen wrapped you in his arms and pulled you further into his enormous nest of blankets.

“Shh,” he said. “Be quiet. Let’s take a nap.”

There was more work to be done and a billion other things you could be taking care of at the moment. But it was so warm under the blankets and Morgen was rubbing at your tense shoulders in a way that felt so nice after hours of bending over a computer, and the idea of crawling back into the cold office and staring into a screen was sort of depression.

You groaned and rolled over, pressing your face into his shoulder. He made a quiet noise of triumph next to your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “Yes. I win!”

“Yeah, sure,” you grumbled. “Hope you like going to bed alone because I’m going to be staying up late finishing all my editing.”

“Noooooo,” Morgen wailed. “I hate going to bed alone! It’s so cold.” Despite that, he didn’t make any attempt to release you. If anything, he clung tighter. You snorted, stroking your fingers along the top of his head. His fins twitched as you ran your fingers along them. They twitched and jerked under your ministrations. His fins were so delicate and sensitive. Apparently, they could pick up subtle changes in the currents when he was underwater. On land, they made him very ticklish if you played your cards just right.

One of his ear fins twitched wildly as you ran a calloused fingertip over it. “Cut that out,” Morgen said sleepily.

“Yeah?” you said, scratching at the thin membrane. “What are you going to do about it?”

Morgen made a noise that could generously be described as a snarl and less generously described as a snore and rolled over onto you. “Gotcha,” he mumbled, wrapping his tail around you. “Now you’re never getting out.” You were completely smushed under him, though he was leaning back so you could still breathe. His tail was twitching, fins slapping against your back. It was rather funny, the way he wagged his tail when he was comfortable.

There was very little you could do to actually get him off you. He was pretty heavy and as he started to relax, the weight only seemed to increase. It was still pleasantly warm under the blankets, though his skin was cool against you. You closed your eyes, running your hand along the top of his head.

You startled awake abruptly. Your head was hazy and confused and your sense of timing was completely lost. It could have been thirty minutes or six hours for all you knew.

Muzzily, you poked your head out from under the pile of blankets. Morgen was still on top of you and he protested sleepily against your movements. After a moment of craning your neck, you caught a glance at the clock.

“Morgen, you need to get up. It’s two thirty.” He groaned, attaching himself even tighter to your side. “I need to work, come on!”

“No! I’m sleepy and you’re so warm.” It was impossible to get up with Morgen attached to you. He was so tall and his gangly limbs meant that he could very easily attach himself to you and he couldn’t be pried off.

“It’s past two! I need to work.” You kicked the blankets away from you and shivered. Even with the fire on, the warm was still pretty chilly. Morgen whined and retreated back into the blankets like a deep-sea creature recoiling from sunlight.

“You’re going to abandon me,” he said. He blinked at you from under the blankets. Somehow, having the blankets tangled around him only served to make him more pathetic. “Your boyfriend… all alone… cold and abandoned.”

“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to be one room over! You’re going to be asleep, you’re not even going to notice that I’m gone.”

“I’ll notice,” Morgen said sorrowfully. “I always notice.”

You hesitated, then crouched down next to him again. “Okay. I think I have a plan. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

He looked suspiciously at you, but he let you leave. You trotted to the office and carefully pulled your laptop free from its nest of wires.

Morgen had fully buried himself under the blanket when you returned. He peeked out as you stopped next to him. “You brought your computer,” he said.

“Yeah. Budge over, make some space for me in the blanket.” Morgen was only too happy to do so, rolling over and lifting the blankets so you could shuffle in next to him.

It was sort of hard to write while lying on your stomach. Resting all your weight on your elbows hurt after a bit, and it was awkward to type. Morgen didn’t help in any way. He was half-sprawled over your back, a heavy weight that pressed you into the ground. Despite all the discomfort, though, you didn’t want to change your position. Morgen made little, sleepy noises of contentment as he pressed his face into your shoulders. Occasionally, he would even move to press kisses to the base of your neck. It was utterly delightful.

The afternoon dragged on. It was impressive how much Morgen could sleep, really. And such a change. It was strange to think about how much temperature affected his mood. You looked at him, curled against your side. He wasn’t quite entirely asleep, you thought. It was more like the sleepy hazes your childhood cats had gone into. His eyes were closed, but his fins twitched at the slightest sound and you could see his eyelids twitching every now and then.

You only ended up working for a couple of hours. Not only were you getting stiff from trying to type on the floor, but you were also growing increasingly distracted by Morgen. He had started to stir and was clearly trying to get your attention.

“Do you need something?” you said, finally pushing your laptop away. Morgen beamed, tail wagging so hard it shifted the blankets aside.

“I think I just got it,” he said. He tucked the blankets securely around you. “Want to put on a movie?”

“Are you actually going to stay awake through the whole thing or do you just want something in the background while you go to sleep?” you asked. Morgen tried to look innocent and utterly failed.

“It’s not my fault the cold makes me sleepy,” he said. “You can put on whatever movie you want! I won’t even complain if it’s one of those really boring ones.”

“The Poltergeist is not a boring movie. You just have no appreciation for subtlety,” you said.

“It’s so subtle that nothing happens,” Morgen said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get why humans are so scared by it.”

There was no way either of you were going to win the argument, so you just grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Morgen wasted no time in sprawling himself across your lap, still smothered under several blankets. In the end, you put on an animated move you’d both seen several times before. Morgen said the way the water was shown reminded him of home, and you liked the story and bright colors.

Morgen dozed on your lap as you half-watched the movie. In truth, you were more paying attention to him. you worked your fingers over his scalp, scratching against the fins. He made little noises of satisfaction, leaning into your touch. For a water creature, his cat-like behavior was rather funny.

“I can’t believe how much you can sleep,” you said as he started awake and shifted his position on her lap. “You’ve barely been awake for two consecutive hours.”

“It’s the cold,” Morgen said. You ran your hand along his head and he pressed into the touch enthusiastically.

“Does the cold just make you more sluggish or does it actually make you need to sleep more?” you asked. Morgen rolled onto his back, his head still resting on your lap.

“This is just a guess,” he said. “I’m totally speculating here based on some stuff I’ve heard, but I think it’s mostly accurate. So, my species lives in tropical areas, yeah? But it was thought that in the past, we lived somewhere a little more temperate, that sometimes got cold snaps. And when there were cold snaps, in order to conserve energy, we went into a hibernation mode, where we all gathered together and slept until temperatures rose again.” He yawned, showing off his large canines. “Sorry. Anyway, when we moved to more tropical areas, we stopped needing to hibernate, but we still have the genes for it.”

“Which means that spending time in the cold is triggering your need to hibernate,” you said. “That’s why you’re sleeping so much. Your body is trying to hibernate.”

“Mm,” Morgen murmured. “My body wants to find somewhere warm where I can sleep until the temperature rises.”

You stroked your hand over his head again, fingers twitching. There was an abrupt feeling of nervousness coalescing in your stomach. “It must be hard. To fight that.” You played with one of his fins. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“I’m sleepy a lot. And cold a lot,” he said. “It’s a little uncomfortable, I suppose.”

You pursed your lips. “Would it…” There was something choking happening in your throat. Morgen blinked up at you, waiting for you to keep speaking. You cleared your throat a couple of times. “Er. Would it maybe be easier for you if you did hibernate? I mean… If that’s’ what you’re supposed to do in the winter? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Morgen looked up at you with his big, soulful eyes. “If I’m asleep, then I can’t spend time with you.”

You snorted. “You’re avoiding hibernating because you’re afraid I’m going to miss you?” It was unreasonably sweet and it was also fairly accurate. You pushed your sorrow away, though. It wasn’t fair to him, to force him to stay awake for you. “I mean, I will, but it’s only during the winter. And you’ll be awake sometimes. I’ll manage. You’re not the only person I talk to, you know.”

Morgen’s fins drew close to his face and he gave a small, slightly sheepish smile. “I wasn’t really worried about you missing me, exactly. I was more worried about me missing you.”

You made a noise of surprise. “You’ll be asleep. Are you even going to notice?”

He flicked his fins out and in, his version of a small shrug. “I think so,” he said. “I haven’t just been wanting you around because you’re warm. I love you a lot. I want to be with you.”

“I know,” you said. You couldn’t keep the emotion out of your voice and Morgen smiled, pressing his face into your stomach. “But I don’t want you to make yourself sick or something because you’re not doing what you should during the winter. And I really don’t want you doing that on my behalf.”

“I’m not doing it on your behalf,” Morgen said, his voice muffled. “I’m doing it because I want to.” He turned his head to blink sleepily up at you. “Trust me. I’d much rather spend time with you, even if I’m a little sleepy, than spend all winter asleep.”

Your eyes stung with tears. You sniffed. “That’s the sweetest thing I think anyone’s ever said to me.”

Morgen lifted his head toward yours, smiling. “It’s true.” You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed, reaching a hand up and pulling you down to kiss you more firmly.

“See?” he said as you broke apart. “I can’t get that when I’m sleeping.”

#exophilia #sea monster #sea monster boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #fluff #this is just straight fluff guys #monster bf

166 notes · View notes

odelschwanky · 3 years

Text

Come See Me (Shinji Hirako x Reader)

*This is a speed write I'm super proud of. I'm not normally the type to get things done fast, because I always want it to be perfect, but I wrote this all in one day! I hope everyone enjoys it. And feel free to request different characters!*

Word Count: 1967

"Shinji!"

The factory warehouse was strangely empty, and you didn't know where everyone had gone. You looked for them at all the places they frequent here in Karakura town. Maybe they were in gigais, out on the town. Or maybe they went... somewhere else?

"Shinji!" You called again, slumping down in an old, rickety chair. The light streamed in from the tall window overhead, illuminating the dancing dust particles in its wake. The rest of the place was dark. The chair was one of the only pieces of furniture in the warehouse, besides the hundreds of boxes.

It creaked under your weight and you sighed. You hadn't seen the Vizards for a while, so you decided to pay them a visit. You were on your lunch break actually. You checked your watch. You still had a half-hour before you had to be back at your desk. "Why isn't he here?" You scratch the back of your head and frown.

"Hey doll, why are you so down?"

A grin graced your face as you leaped up and hugged the wiry blond man. His arms encased you gently and he rubbed your back.

Shinji was the first person you met, strangely enough, when you moved to Karakura town. It was late and you were moving the last of your boxes into your new apartment. A hollow was actually anchored to the building.

***

"Hello?" you called. You gripped your late brother's pocket knife close to your chest as you walked up the stairs to your new place. Your shoes scuffed the stone and your hand was warm and sweaty on the freezing cold doorknob.

The main room was deserted, save for the few boxes in the middle of the floor. The cobwebs still plagued the corners of the ceiling, since you hadn't cleaned them up yet. You heard a slight gurgling noise, faintly coming from the bathroom. That was funny... since you hadn't called to have the water turned on yet.

The wood creaked under your feet and you winced. You were a lot louder than the thing in your bathroom. You reckoned it was probably a mouse or something. With the rest of the apartment was in such a despaired state, that wouldn't be such a far fetched idea.

The hallway to the back of the apartment split into left and right with the balcony door in the middle. You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door.

"Oh!"

It was hard to get a good look at the beast because it was dark, hidden in the shadows like a seventy-pound bat.

You screamed as it rushed at you. It seemed to laugh, loudly, unapologetically. Suddenly the balcony door burst open behind you from a gust of wind and before you knew it, you were scooped into the hands of the large and furry something. Your head spun as it whisked you down into the street below. Just when it came to you to open your eyes, you jammed the knife into its body and it let out a wailing growl.

You fell to the snowy ground in a heap of aching limbs. Your coat wasn't enough to protect you from the chill you got when you looked at the monster in the eye. You had seen hollows before. Ever since you were a little girl you could see them, but never this big, and never this close.

"Well, well. You're not welcome here, not at all."

It was simple and swift. A blond-haired man in an orange dress shirt came down with a single swipe and sliced the hollow in half with a sword. You were left trembling and cold, covered in snow and dirty wet slush from the road.

"Are you alright? You took a nasty fall." He towered over you, outstretching a hand down to you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," you say, letting him help you to your feet. "You can see hollows too?"

"Sure can. Come on, let's get you inside."

He helped you up to your apartment.

"What's your name?" You ask, turning to him before you go in.

"The name's Shinji. Shinji Hirako." The way he talked was slow and deliberate, soothing, sultry, confident.

You smile softly and take his hand appreciatively. "Thank you, Shinji."

"Not a problem for me, love." He gave you a toothy grin that you found quite charming. "I think we'll be seeing some more of each other."

Things went from there. He would come to visit every now and again, then you two started going out. You didn't understand that he wasn't a human at first, and you finally figured it out one day when he came to pick you up for a date and he had to pop a candy in his mouth before anybody else could see him. Then he explained to you the whole business about being a Vizard. You surprised, sure, but you weren't scared. He was part hollow, but that didn't have to be a bad thing. He saved your life, and you slowly found yourself falling in love with him.

***

"I just really missed you," you said, breathing in the scent of him. His blunt cut brushed against your ears and he held you in the embrace. You didn't know how much you missed him until you saw him. Your voice broke a little. "I missed you a lot."

"Come on, (y/n). You don't gotta cry. I'm here now."

You hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. It's not a long time when you think about it objectively, but when you're talking about the person you love... it feels like forever.

You and Shinji sat down and talked for a few minutes. Everyone else was on their way back from town, and you wanted to stay to see them... but you just really wanted some time alone with him.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" You ask, lighting the occasional cigarette that you smoked with Shinji. That was probably the worst thing he had done to you, this loose and casual habit of smoking every now and again.

"Yeah. This guy, Ichigo. We think he's one of us. I gotta talk to him before he gets tangled up with some bad news. Things get complicated, you know?"

You sigh. "So that means you won't have time to stay over tonight?"

"Ah, don't make me feel guilty. If I can find this Ichigo guy and talk to him like Hiyori wants me to, then I'll come over and see you. Is that okay?"

You nod. You could be satisfied with that. There were certain things that came with being involved with supernatural beings, and your "boyfriend" being unavailable most days was the least of your problems. You were okay now that you at least have gotten to see him.

"Okay, well I have to go. I can't be late back to work."

"Alright, bye doll." Shinji grabbed hold of your neck and brought you toward him in a deep kiss. You sunk into it willingly, putting both your hands on either of his cheeks. This made you all warm and tingly inside, making up for the lost days in a matter of seconds.

"I hope that Ichigo guy doesn't take too much time," you say. Shinji's eyebrow raised and maybe he knew what you were getting at. You had more than enough bedroom for him tonight, and by hell, he'd better come and use it. You squeeze Shinji's hand. "Stay safe, you hear?"

"You more than me, love."

***

You squinted at your keys in the dark. Fumbling them into the lock haphazardly, you nearly fall into your apartment. Something about today, being at your desk for hours exhausted you. You made an egg sandwich for dinner, brushed your teeth, and took a long hot bath, probably your favorite routine out of all the ones you had made for yourself. It wasn't until you were brushing your hair, wrapped in a towel, that a slight knock on your door shook you out of your daydreams.

You hurriedly scramble in your bedroom, which you had recently tidied up, looking for something to wear. You finally decided a T-shirt you had cropped a long time ago and some pajama pants would do.

You open the door slightly, trying to look in the peephole, but it was too dark outside to see.

"It's me."

You couldn't keep yourself from smiling as you opened the door and wrapped your arms around Shinji for the second time today. You wrapped your legs around him as well, gripping his torso with your thighs. "You're choking me, doll." You could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. "I don't care," you said happily.

He walked you inside with ease, wearing you like a necklace. Carrying you was never a problem for him. He shut the front door behind him and turned off all the lights on the way to your bedroom.

"I'm exhausted, can we just watch a movie?" You say, finally coming down from his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, y' know. We can always do whatever you want."

That was music to your ears. Shinji was so sweet and thoughtful even though he acted so aloof and cocky. He cared about you and it was the most precious thing you thought about.

After he undressed and put his hair back, he turned off the lights and fell into bed with you.

"Kisses," you whine, pressing your lips on his.

"You just want a little attention, huh?" Shinji's voice grew dominant and strong.

That's just what you wanted: attention from the man you loved.

Shinji plants kiss after kiss on your lips, letting his hands skim over you in no particular pattern. It wasn't rushed, but smooth and natural. It just felt so right.

Your hands find their way to his hair, which you played with gently, keeping his bangs out of his face, swipe after swipe. His body was hot against yours, making you ache and want more. Curse your stupid job. If you weren't so tired, you'd let him do whatever he wanted with you.

His long fingers tipped your chin up, exposing your neck. He went into it assertively, leaving smooches, love bites, and a wet trail of tongue up to your ears. You moaned and held him tighter. "You sound so needy, (y/n). If you don't watch it, I'm gonna get you tomorrow."

He said this, putting his fingers to your lips to hush you. Now that was an idea you could get behind. "Who says I don't want you to?" You fire back with a smirk and giggle. Shinji pets your hair, laughing deviously. If he had it in his mind to have you right now, you'd let him. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.

You burrowed into the blankets and snuggled your way under his arm, draping your legs on him. You just couldn't get your fill. Being close was never enough, and you always felt like you had to be closer to your love.

"Shinji?"

He looked down at you, moving some of the blankets so he could see your face. "Yeah?"

"I love you. And I want to be with you forever and ever."

He laughed, holding you closer to him. The cold room mixed with his warm touch was absolutely calming. "You're so gushy..."

You continued watching the movie until your eyes grew heavy. Your grip tightened on Shinji as you start drifting off to sleep.

"I love ya, (y/n)."

#shinji hirako x reader #shinji hirako #bleach anime #bleach x reader #bleach one shots #bleach fanfiction #bleach shinji hirako #shinji hirako bleach

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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

Text

Coming Up Easy - First Sightings

I am *SO* sorry this is so hella late this week. It's been... a fucking week. CW: One mention of a homophobic slur.

You can also read this on AO3!

CUE - First Sightings

Unpacking boxes was not one of Alex’s favorite activities. He hadn’t had many when he’d moved because he hadn’t wanted to rent a truck or deal with shipping things, so the twelve boxes he’d been able to load into the late nineties Ford Explorer encompassed all his worldly possessions. He’d finally gotten a chance to start unpacking the miscellaneous boxes after a trip to Ikea for bookshelves, a bed, and a couch. Furthermore, he’d promised himself he’d explore his new city more and find second-hand shops for other household furniture and accessories, but the bookshelves would be enough to finally clear away the last of his unpacked boxes.

Alex opened the last box and looked inside. His heart softened a little as he saw the small shoebox of photographs he kept. Promising himself he’d look through it later, he unpacked the few other knick-knacks out of the box and took them to the bookshelves to start placing them. The box didn’t reenter his mind until after dinner when he found himself lounging across his new sofa with a cold beer in his hand. The box stared at him from the floor where he’d left it. Setting down his beer on the floor, he quickly got up and grabbed the box, and brought it back over to the couch. He flipped open the top and gingerly picked up the pile closest to him.

Michael and him in the desert with guitars. Liz, Max, Michael, and him at a church car wash. Michael, Kyle, and him all leaning against a bathroom wall in various stages of being phenomenally sick from drinking too much. Him and Michael hanging out at the UFO Emporium. Him and Michael eating pizza and playing video games at Max and Isobel’s. Him and Michael in college at a frat party. Him and Michael. Him and Michael. Him and Michael…

It hit Alex quite suddenly that basically since he and Michael had become friends they’d been fairly inseparable. They’d dated other people and had friends that the other didn’t like, but as a rule, it was always the two of them against the world and it had been since they were fifteen. He picked up his phone and snapped a photo of the photograph he held in his hand where they were sixteen, pimply, awkward, and bent over laughing outside the high school band room.

Me 8:46 p.m.>> Who the fuck are these dorks? <<Picture sent at 8:46 p.m.>> <<Michael 8:50 p.m.>> Holy shit, look at those nerds!! <<Michael 8:51 p.m.>> Though I gotta say, the emo one is pretty hot. If I were sixteen, I’d definitely have a crush on him. Me 8:52 p.m.>> You did not have a crush on me at 16! I was so tragic! <<Michael 8:53 p.m.>> You were not. You were fucking feral. You took exactly zero percent shit from anyone. It was hot as fuck. Me 8:55 p.m.>> You are definitely misremembering the amount of bullshit I put up with. <<Michael 9:00 p.m.>> Do you know what you were doing the first time I saw you?

Alex cast back in his memory. He remembered the first time he was aware of Michael, but not necessarily the first time Michael was aware of him. He always assumed it was at the same time.

Me 9:02 p.m.>> Uh? Scribbling emo song lyrics on my bio lab notebook? <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> Nope. <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> You were having a fight with Kyle during gym because he tagged your gym shirt with the word “faggot” in pink sharpie.

“Mr. Manes, you cannot wear shirts with inappropriate text on them. This is the gym. White shirts only,” Coach Heim called at Alex as soon as he walked out of the locker room and started towards where the rest of the class was lounging in the middle of the basketball court. Alex could see Kyle elbowing his football buddies and smirking, barely containing their laughter. Alex felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and fury. He kept walking towards the group.

“MR. MANES! GO CHANGE YOUR SHIRT!” the coach yelled, putting more authority into his deep baritone. He was a fit, balding adult who generally was an alright guy, but Alex was swelling with indignation. He stopped a few feet away from the group so he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“I don’t have another shirt, sir. This is my gym shirt,” Alex explained through clenched teeth. As the rest of the class got a good look at the words emblazoned across his chest and stomach, he heard them begin to snicker and giggle quietly.

“Well, you can’t wear that one. You’re smarter than this, Alex, why would you wear this out of the locker room?” the coach asked, not sounding unkind. He shot the gathered students a dirty look and they quieted their laughter.

“Because it’s all I had to wear and it’s not my fault it was defaced. Some pink-fingered fucking COWARD of a football player must’ve thought it’d be REAL FUNNY to break into my locker and--” Alex started, voice growing louder as he let the heat behind his cheeks infuse his voice.

“I did no such thing!” Kyle yelled, cutting in on Alex. Coach Heim looked over at him, eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to tell Kyle to sit down, but as soon as Kyle stepped forward away from his buddies, Alex pounced. He landed the first hit on Kyle’s cheek, the meaty smack of their skin satisfying to him. Kyle shook it off and came at him. Before he knew it, they were rolling on the ground hitting each other as hard as they could in anyplace visible. The pain was nothing new for Alex and he kept his head clear as he tried to aim for spots that would hurt long after he was pulled off.

Too soon, arms were wrapped around his chest and a much bigger body than his was pulling him back and off of where he’d pinned Valenti to the ground. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears still ringing with rage, but he could see the thin trickle of blood from Kyle’s split lip and he felt himself smile at the shock on everyone else’s face as they watched him get dragged back. He would not take Kyle’s shit this year. He would not take anyone’s shit.

Alex rubbed his fingers across his eyebrows and sighed deeply. He had been so ready to cause someone else pain by then. His dad had only gotten worse towards him when Kyle started to pull away because it meant that his “unnaturalness” was evident to everyone. His fight then and the fights in the following year always had more to do with his dad than with him being ashamed of being gay. He put the photos down in the box and went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. His phone chimed as he unscrewed the top and after a deep drink, he checked the message.

<<Michael 9:13 p.m.>> Uh oh, you’ve left me on read. You okay? Me 9:14 p.m.>> I’m fine. Sorry. Just got wrapped up in my head for a minute. Me 9:15 p.m.>> How did you see that? You weren’t in my gym class? <<Michael 9:16 p.m.>> I was hiding under the bleachers skipping english. Me 9:17 p.m.>> THAT WAS THE FIRST DAY! <<Michael 9:17 p.m.>> Right? Nothing to do anyway. It was fine. It’s in the past. I graduated high school, didn’t I? No harm, no foul.

Alex laughed quietly to himself, staring at the message screen. He went back to the couch and flopped back down across the cushions with a sigh.

Me 9:20 p.m.>> You did. Even graduated college. I guess you’re right. <<Michael 9:21 p.m.>> When do you remember seeing me for the first time? Me 9: 23 p.m.>> I feel like it was biology when we were lab partners. I was supposed to be with Max, remember? <<Michael 9:24 p.m.>> Yeah, I was with Liz. Max had no chill back then. How the fuck did it take Liz until senior year to notice that he liked her? Me 9:35 p.m.>> Had no chill? *Has* no chill.

“Michael! MI-CHAEL!” Max hissed loudly from his seat next to Alex two rows behind where Liz was sitting. The class period was just getting started and everyone was still milling around trying to find their assigned seats. Michael looked over his shoulder at Max who was looking desperately at him. Michael mouthed ‘what?!’ and gave Max an irritated glare.

“Switch with me!” Max whisper screamed. Alex was smirking into his notebook as he watched the exchange through the side of his eye. He hadn’t really noticed the curly-haired boy before, but the eye roll he gave Max was epic. He started to turn back to the front when Max whispered again. “I’ll pay you!”

Michael turned back around abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

“How much?” Michael asked, not whispering but keeping his voice low enough not to carry to the teacher who was about to start taking roll. Max looked desperately towards the front of the class at Liz’s back where she was ignoring what was happening beside her in favor of actually paying attention. She was about the only one.

“Fifty,” Max called out.

“Seventy-five and you buy my lunch for a week,” Michael countered. Alex was highly amused. Max darted his eyes over to Liz’s back again and nodded. Michael grabbed his stuff and moved quickly towards the back of the classroom while Max grabbed his stuff to go forward.

“Sorry!” Max called out to Alex softly before he left. Alex watched him slide into the seat next to Liz smoothly and take out his notebook. She looked over and smiled at him in confusion, turning to look back at where Michael was now taking his seat next to Alex. Alex looked over at him and was struck full in the face with his mischievous grin.

“That sucker, I would’ve done it for twenty-five,” Michael shared with Alex conspiratorially, leaning closer to him while he spoke so his voice wouldn’t reach Max’s ears. Alex felt himself blushing a little at the somewhat flirtatious smirk Michael was giving him. He’d been aware of Michael, but hadn’t really ever paid him any mind. Now he was near him, he could see the interesting light brown of his eyes somewhere between gold and green. He also smelled a little like lake water and the woodsy, spicy deodorant Alex had smelled on Mr. Valenti. It was weirdly comforting.

“So he has a thing for Liz or is he that afraid of failing bio that badly? I’m not stupid,” Alex asked, clearing his throat and trying not to seem offended by Max’s desperation to switch partners.

“Oh, he has a major thing for Liz. It’s gross. Like, she’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But he’s been writing Mr. and Mrs. Ortecho-Evans in his notebook since third grade or some shit like that,” Michael revealed, taking out his own bio notebook from his bag and setting in on the lab table in front of him. Alex took in what he was saying and nodded.

“So it’s not cause everyone says I’m gay?” Alex asked, voice low and a little nervous to see Michael’s reaction. Michael looked over at him, eyebrows drawn together and something like sympathy passing over his expression before he responded.

“No, man. Max doesn’t give a shit about that and neither do I. You weren’t planning on trying to date him, were you?” Michael asked, shooting him a grin. Alex grinned back, relieved to hear that someone in the school who was so upstanding and obviously straight like Max wasn’t a complete jerk. Michael didn’t seem too bad either.

“Nah. He’s not my type. I like musicians,” Alex joked, shooting Michael a side-grin.

“You don’t say? Do you play?” Michael asked, eyes forward now in a semblance of paying attention to the teacher. Alex glanced up towards the board, but continued slouching over his lyrics notebook.

“Guitar,” he replied shortly as the teacher started explaining their first lab assignment.

“Cool. Me too,” Michael said. Alex could see him studying him out of the corner of his eye. “We should jam sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And they did jam together eventually. A week later they’d gotten together and Alex had learned that Michael did not know one end of a guitar from the other. He’d let Michael borrow his brother Greg’s guitar and then taught him everything he knew over the course of the next three months.

Me 9:40 p.m.>> Man. Who knew we’d still be friends this long after. <<Michael 9:45 p.m.>> I did. Once you taught me to play guitar, you were stuck with me for life. There’s an unbreakable bond built when one dude teaches another dude how to finger... Me 9:46 p.m.>> Jesus Christ. That was terrible. <<Michael 9:47 p.m.>> Bet you’re laughing though. Me 9:48 p.m.>> I plead the fifth. Also, I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow. <<Michael 9:50 p.m.>> That’s some responsible adult behavior right there. Gross. Me 9:51 p.m.>> You’re gross. <<Michael 9:52 p.m.>> I am gross. I’m going to take a shower and change that, however. When will you be young and fun again? Me 9:53 p.m. >> Shut up. Go take your shower. <<Michael 9:53 p.m.>> Fine. Go to bed. Think about me in bed. Me 9:54 p.m.>> *You* think about me in bed. <<Michael 9:55 p.m.>> Always do. Night Me 9:56 p.m.>> Night.

Alex heaved himself off the couch and went to his room. The apartment always seemed so dark and lonely when he finished talking with Michael. He needed to work on making friends. That would help him not miss him so much.

#coming up easy #malex wip #malex #coming up easy update #michael guerin #alex manes #fwb malex

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gukyi · 5 years

Text

love, guaranteed | kth

summary: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

{hogwarts!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x reader word count: 11k genre: fluff + light, slow angst warnings: this is an idiots to lovers fic a/n: [distant screaming] [police sirens] oh god what is this !!! it couldn’t be.... a ... a fic ?????? just kidding, it is! just a reminder that i am still on hiatus and will be for another month, so inactivity should be expected. other than that, i am on break this week so i figured that while the inspo was rolling i’d write something !!! only jungkook’s au left and then we’re done .. my god.....

“I’m retiring,” Kim Taehyung says as he collapses on the worn yellow couch in the Hufflepuff common room with a dull, pillowed thud. You listen as he exhales, like he’s trying to rid himself of fifty years of pent-up aggression despite being a seventeen-year-old still finishing up his secondary schooling. From where you sit by the table under the window that overlooks the gardens, you can make out the tip of a tuft of golden brown hair and his old leather loafers, which aren’t so much loafers as they are feet-covers, considering how tattered they look. Every time you tell him to invest in a new pair he says that with only half a year left in this uniform, it’s absolutely not worth it.

You don’t really have the heart to tell him that if he plans on becoming a wizard psychologist like he wants to be, he’ll probably need to get a new pair anyway.

“Who’d have thought,” you muse from where you sit, placing the handcrafted wooden bookmark that Taehyung made you in second year into your book to save your place, “that after seven years of toil, trouble, and general stress, it was the decorating committee that took the great Kim Taehyung down. Write it in the history books.”

“I’m serious, Y/N!” He exclaims, swinging his legs off of the couch to assume a sitting position. “I’m done. It’s over. The decorating committee and I are breaking up.”

“Can you do that?” You ask with furrowed brows. Taehyung always makes everything sound so much more devastating than it actually is—one of his many talents—so you can’t imagine this, whatever it is that went down during Celestial Ball preparations today, is really going to change anything. “I mean, you are the head of the committee. I don’t think quitting is an option.”

“Says you,” Taehyung says like he’s about to prove you otherwise. “See, you don’t think quitting is an option because you’re one of those people that ‘doesn’t give up’,” he says, putting the phrase in air quotes like that’s supposed to mean anything. “Unlike me, an intellectual who knows when to quit.”

“Taehyung, you’re literally the head of the committee. You campaigned all throughout the fall semester to earn the position even though you were a shoo-in to get it because the only other person that wanted to do it was that one colorblind sixth-year,” you remind him with a roll of your eyes, as if he needs a refresher. All he could talk about over the entire summer break was how much he wanted to decorate for the Celestial Ball and give the Great Hall one of those Muggle home renovations. “Not to mention you had me, your incredibly loyal best friend, go around putting up your campaign posters instead of doing my Defense homework like I was supposed to.”

“You know I love you,” Taehyung says with a pout.

“The seventy-three I got on the test the next day says otherwise, but out of the goodness of my heart, I will believe you,” you say, teasing. You get up to sit down on the couch beside him, leaning back into the cushions against the armrest as you place your feet on his lap.

“Oh, did you get new socks?” Taehyung asks when he notices your mustard yellow socks. One of your other Muggle-born friends bought them for you over break as a Christmas gift as sort of a gag gift, considering they just have the word BITCH written all over them. “I like them. They suit your personality.”

“Do you have something to say to me?” You say, offended. You reach out to kick Taehyung’s chest to defend from his personal attack. Unfortunately for you (and fortunately for him), Taehyung takes your outstretched leg as an opportunity to go in for the kill, leaning over to tickle the underside of your knee, a place he knows is one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

(It’s a long story. To sum it up, in the third year the two of you were studying together before it somehow turned into a play-fight that ended with the other students threatening to call Sprout as the two of you were cry-laughing so hard.)

Immediately, you burst into giggles and start squirming, but Taehyung’s an actual demon out for your blood and his fingers follow you, even as you worm your way off of the couch to escape his evil clutches. Being ticklish is a weakness and a curse that only the truly sadistic like to capitalize on.

“Taehyung, oh my God, stop! Taehyung, please, I think I’m about to—” With a thud, you land on the rug beside you, the force rumbling through your body and knocking the wind out of you. Taehyung bursts into laughter instantly, clapping hysterically as you glare at him. “You are the highest form of demon possible. I just want you to know that.”

“Voldemort is quaking,” Taehyung jokes, making you laugh despite the fact that there is no sinking lower than tickling a ticklish person. He’s lost a couple points because of that. “Come on, come back up here with me.”

“You’re a demon and I hate you.”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, sticking out his lower lip and blinking because he knows it’ll get you to do anything. It’s how he convinced you to traipse around the castle campaigning for him even when you had a Defense Against the Dark Arts test the next day. He could get away with murder with that expression.

“Fine,” you cave almost immediately, because you’re nothing if not a sucker for him. “What was it this time?”

“With the decorating committee?” He asks. “Oh, nothing much. It’s just—no one can agree on anything and we only have a month before the ball. Like, today for example, we had a thirty minute debate on whether to have velvet curtains with satin lining or satin curtains with velvet lining. And all of the sixth-years say satin curtains because the shimmer they’ll give off in the candlelight is sort of like stars and it’s a Celestial Ball, but velvet is much more seasonally appropriate, in my opinion. It’s a February dance! We can’t have summery fabrics like satin at a winter ball. That’s just not how it’s supposed to work.”

“Have you maybe considered, I don’t know, silk?” You ask.

“Silk curtains!” Taehyung cries with such disdain you never realized how much of a problem someone can have with fabrics. “You wound me, Y/N.”

“Fine, not silk, then,” you say, backing off. Clearly you have no eye whatsoever for decorations for Celestial Balls so you should just leave it all up to Taehyung, the master. “But just for the record, I think velvet will look much nicer. And if you get crushed velvet, it’ll still glow in the light! Best of both worlds.”

“Y/N,” Taehyung declares, an epiphany in his eyes as he turns to grip your shoulders, “you’re a genius. Did you know that? An absolute fucking genius! Those sixth-years are gonna piss their pants when we get crushed velvet curtains. What would I do without you?” He says, collapsing back into the cushions with a satisfied grin.

You laugh. “Probably end up with satin curtains with velvet lining.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “The sixth-years are so annoying. All they were talking about today was finding a date for the dance. I mean, who cares about dates? It’s all so superficial, anyway.”

“I’ll bet they’re all planning to ask that one Slytherin, Park, out. He’s a real hunk, according to all of the underclassmen, I hear,” you say.

Taehyung scoffs. “Last I heard, Park was flunking Muggle Studies.”

“A hunk indeed,” you muse. “Has anyone asked you to the ball yet?”

“No,” Taehyung says with a flick of his hair for emphasis. “Everyone’s probably waiting because they’re too scared to be the first one. I can’t help how much the people love me.”

“Believe me, I know,” you say, muttering under your breath with a sigh. Taehyung’s charming and wonderful and perfect, but no one has fallen victim to his games quite like you.

“What’d you say?” Taehyung asks.

Quickly, you search for a cover-up. “Just that people are probably waiting to see if your ego will shrink before they commit themselves to that.”

Taehyung pouts, nose scrunching up as he pinches the side of your torso in response to your teasing. “Has anyone asked you?” He asks, changing the subject before you have the chance to bruise his ego again.

With a shrug, you shake your head. “No. I’m not really someone people ask to balls.”

“Hold on a second,” Taehyung says, standing up for emphasis. Oh, God. “Are you telling me that no one, not a single person, has asked you to the Celestial Ball? With only a month to go?”

You frown. “You don’t need to rub it in, asshole.”

“You’re saying,” Taehyung continues, “that you, my stunning, intelligent, funny, witty, talented, sarcastic, legend of a best friend, are dateless? Impossible.”

With that, you feel your cheeks heating up a bit from all the praise, something Taehyung is usually much more sporadic and lowkey about. Every now and then he’ll quietly let it slip how much he admires you, and how much he treasures your friendship, but this is like flinging a bucket of water in your face with how bold and upfront it is. Always a dramatic.

“Yes, well, the joys of being yours truly,” you say with a smile, accepting your life for what it is. There’s only one person you’d ask to the dance, and he doesn’t even know it.

“This is blasphemy! It’s an outrage! It’s—”

“If you’d like to do something about it,” you say as you grab your book and head up to your dorm for the night, “then be my guest. But you know that I’m not a big fan of the whole dating-for-the-sake-of-dating thing.”

“You’re giving me your full permission to find you a date for the ball?” Taehyung asks like a child given a blank piece of paper and a brand new box of crayons.

Your eyes widen slightly at what Taehyung’s insinuating, but even if he is a devil who tickles people for his enjoyment, you know that whatever he’ll end up doing probably won’t be too bad. Hopefully.

With a final turn, you meet his eyes and warn him. Just so he knows who’s really in charge here. “Don’t make me regret it, Kim!”

He grins.

Taehyung has been nowhere to be found all day.

Which would normally alarm you, considering his infectious personality and his constant need for human interaction. If you haven’t seen your best friend all day, your instinct is to assume that he’s dead. There are plenty of things inside and outside the castle that could kill him in an instant. Just one of the caveats of attending a magical school on the top of a secluded mountain.

“You’re allowed to worry about him, you know,” Sowon says as she bites into some corn on the cob beside you without a care in the world. She was one of the first friends you made in Hufflepuff house on the first day, even if Taehyung did end up securing the spot as ‘your annoying best friend’ in the end. “He is your best friend.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to seem too clingy,” You say, attempting to reason this out. “I mean, he’s probably fine. He’s never died before, so I don’t really see why I should be concerned now.”

“Yes, because nothing says consolation quite like the fact that he’s never died before so you don’t need to worry about him dying now,” Sowon deadpans, butter on the edge of her lip. “You’re one of the smartest students in the House and yet, I’ve never seen you be as unreasonable as you are when you’re talking about him.”

“I am not being unreasonable!” You cry defensively. “Look me in the eye and tell me that Taehyung’s died before. I dare you.”

Sowon rolls her eyes. “You going to the ball with anyone?” She asks, changing the subject probably for the sake of her own sanity.

“No,” you say, shrugging. Not unless Taehyung has anything to do with it, which, judging by his absence for the entire day thus far, doesn’t have you feeling too confident in your response.

“Let me ask a different question,” Sowon says like some sort of goddamn wizard psycho-analysist, like she’s about to read your palm and tell you your future. “Is Taehyung going to the ball with anyone?”

You sneer, narrowing your eyes at her because you hate when she plays this game. It’s because she always wins, no matter how much you try to block her path. Losing sucks, but losing because the other person has this annoying habit of always being correct is even worse. “No, but I don’t wanna hear it, ‘Won. You know I don’t like conforming to the whole heteronormative dating culture thing.”

“I get that, but you’re telling this to a lesbian who’s trying really hard to convince you to muster up enough courage to just—Ask. Out. Your. Best. Friend. Not because you need to conform to gender and sexuality secondary school dating bullshit, but because you’re in love with him!” Sowon exclaims, punching you in the shoulder just for good measure.

“Now look who’s being unreasonable,” you say pointedly. “We’ve made it through seven years of friendship romance-free. I’m not gonna fuck it all up.”

Sowon practically crashes her head against the wooden table.

“Besides, why should I take responsibility for the fact that he’s wonderful and hilarious and endearing and one of my favorite people in the whole entire world? That’s his fault,” you add on.

“This is why I hate talking to you,” Sowon says. “You have no idea what things could come out of you telling him.”

“Y/N!”

The both of you turn your heads to the doors of the Great Hall to find none other than the devil himself, Kim Taehyung, standing in the entryway with a giant piece of posterboard in his hands. He’s waving wildly in your direction, making you smile guiltily at Sowon as she glares at you, a single eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God,” you hear her mutter to herself as Taehyung proudly marches over, the gigantic poster in his hands not the least bit obtrusive.

“Jesus, Tae, is this what you’ve been doing all day?” You ask as he places the posterboard in front of you and Sowon—it’s a tri-fold, now that you’ve got a better look at it. He jumps over the table so that he can stand on the other side, like a salesman trying to pitch you a deal with a fancy professional display and everything.

“Hey, Sowon,” he says with a grin, making her salute in response. “How are you?”

“Losing brain cells.” She frowns, turning to you slightly as you grin helplessly and stupidly. Before Taehyung has time to ask her to elaborate, she gets up. “I’m going to go do something that makes sense in my mind, like Wizard’s chess, or my Potions work. See you guys around.”

“Wait, Sowon, don’t you wanna see what I’ve created to help Y/N find a date to the dance?” Taehyung asks. She glares harder, if that’s even possible.

“No, I’m alright,” she says with a forced smile. “Not to rain on your parade or anything, but I’ve given a bit of advice to Y/N to help her on her quest, if she so chooses to listen to me.” Another pointed stare. “I’ll see the both of you around, alright? Good luck, Y/N.” She does give you a friendly wave and a peace sign to make up for the verbal damage she’s been spewing out at you for the past twenty minutes about unrealistic things like Telling Taehyung How You Feel and Asking Him Out on a Date.

“Alright, your loss!” Taehyung calls after her before immediately directing his attention back to you with a devilish grin on his face. “So, Y/N. I bet you’ve been wondering what I’ve been doing all day.”

“Uh, not really,” you say, a lie meant only to curb his ever-growing ego.

“Well, I’ve spent the entire day thus far devising a foolproof plan to find you the best date for the ball, no exceptions. This has a 100% date-guarantee and if you don’t end up with one, then you get your money back,” He says confidently, fingers itching to open the tri-fold and reveal the glory waiting within.

“Wait, hold on a second, I’m not paying for this am I—?”

“Presenting: The Match Project!”

Taehyung flips open the sides of the tri-fold to reveal a bright pink background, littered with glitter and hearts cut out of red construction paper, stars and sparkles made out of that glitter glue that you can write with. It looks like Valentine’s Day ate his posterboard, vomited it back out, and then ate it again. At the very top, in gigantic red and gold letters, it reads: THE MaTCH PROJECT, the “a” suspiciously small and in lowercase, like Taehyung wrote the whole thing and then realized he was missing a letter.

The entire thing is particularly overwhelming, if you’re being honest. You don’t think Taehyung’s ever put this much effort into anything in his life. He’s got hand-drawn charts and graphs littering the sides and a survey taped to the middle of the board, front and center. On it, questions like “On a scale of two left feet to royal prince, how important is proper ballroom dancing to you?” and “If the conversation dies, what random topic are you willing to bring up to keep it going?”

“What on this godforsaken Earth is this, Taehyung?” You ask, in shock. You stand up to look a little bit closer, admiring the obvious dedication that Taehyung put into this creation. The tri-fold is covered in evidence that it’s Taehyung’s work, from the missing ‘a’ to the smudged writing, to the flecks of silver and gold glitter that covers his fingers, face, and hair and makes him shimmer in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

“My work of genius, obviously,” Taehyung boasts. “Listen, Y/N. I spent the entire day developing a matchmaking survey system to find the perfect date for you, as selected by me. Anybody I match you with will have a 90% or above approval rating by yours truly, because I would obviously never let you go out with someone that I don’t think is the most optimal match for you. What do you think?”

He’s probably waiting for you to say something like “Taehyung, you’re my hero!” or “This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done,” or any other comment that normally comes out of your mouth when he’s being his dramatic, overzealous self, but instead, you say this:

“You did all of this for me?”

And it does something that very seldom you’re capable of, which is rendering him speechless.

“Well,” he falters, trying to find the words. “I—Yeah, of course I did. You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I?”

He makes you warm on the inside, you realize. Like the sun is rising from the inside out, like summer and spring are blossoming from within your chest, spreading outwards like flower petals and a hazy breeze drifting through the sky.

“So let me get this straight,” you say quickly, shaking any ridiculous thoughts from your mind before your staring becomes too obvious. “You made an entire matchmaking service just so that you could find me a date to the Celestial Ball?”

“I would like to remind you that you gave me your full permission to do so. I’m just saying,” Taehyung points out, as if you don’t already know exactly what you’ve signed up for. It’s Taehyung. Of course you know.

“Something that I am beginning to regret already,” you tell him, overwhelmed at the effort spared in an attempt to find you a date for a measly school ball.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking off your concerns with a wave of his hand. “You’re just a hater, Y/N. I spend my entire Saturday curating the perfect matchmaking survey and no ‘thank you, my lord and savior Kim Taehyung?’ No ‘I owe you my firstborn child, Kim Taehyung?’”

“What are you, Mother Gothel?”

“I’m surprised you even know who that is,” Taehyung says pointedly. “Come on, Y/N,” he pleads, dangling a small piece of parchment in front of your face. “I made like, fifty copies of this using just my wand because this school doesn’t have printers for some godforsaken reason. I nearly set my entire dorm room on fire.”

With narrowed eyes and a suspicious smile lacing your features, you snatch the parchment out of his hand, tearing it slightly as you take a closer look at the questions. It seems, largely, quite legitimate for something that’s the creation of a seventeen-year-old Hufflepuff who still gets lost in Hogwarts despite it being his home for the past seven years. Other than some of the stranger questions such as “If you could be killed by anything on Hogwarts grounds, what would it be and why?” and “The Ministry of Magic is wrong—surprise! Change the classification for one magical creature and explain,” the survey is mostly standard, things about “Describe your ideal type” and “Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?”

“Fine,” you mumble, making Taehyung pump a fist into the air in success. “But only if you fill it out as well,” you declare, grabbing one of his many copies and stuffing it into his chest. “You’re dateless too, aren’t you? I’m sure there are plenty of wizards and witches hoping to be matched with you through your mysterious matchmaking algorithm.”

Taehyung clutches the paper against his chest, looking at you with a smug grin. He opens his mouth. Smirks. “Deal.”

That night finds you sitting in your bed, amongst your textbooks and essays and study guides, staring at the The Match Project survey that your best friend forced into your fingers earlier. It’s blank, but Taehyung’s been pestering you about it ever since you got your hands on it, popping his head in and out of the common room to remind you to fill it out. The questions are so easy, so perfectly Taehyung in every way that they could be, and yet, completing the form seems more difficult than ever.

You could always just tell Taehyung how ridiculous this entire thing is, and how much you don’t care about having a date to the Celestial Ball, but you can’t bring yourself to. He went through all of this effort—made a whole fucking tri-fold posterboard and nearly set his room alight in the process—and you’ll be damned if you don’t do this one thing for him.

Besides, Taehyung going on this epic quest to find the perfect date for you is nothing if not the perfect sign as to how he feels about you.

“Don’t tell me that this is what Kim has gotten up to,” Sowon’s voice interrupts. You turn to find her leaning against the frame of the door, holding a piece of parchment that looks particularly familiar in her hands.

“He gave you one, too?” You hum to yourself, amused at Taehyung’s antics. He certainly is going all out for this.

“Not so much gave as much as forced into my hands, but yes, it seems so,” she muses, walking over to take a seat beside you. “I must say, it’s quite comprehensive.”

“That’s Taehyung for you,” you say. “But he must know that we have no intention of being paired up together, so I can’t imagine why he’d give one to you. Other than to gloat, which is a frequent hobby of his, in case you haven’t already noticed.”

Sowon turns to you with a scoff, flipping some of her hair behind her shoulders. “You don’t know?”

Know what?

“After Kim showed you… whatever it is that he showed you, the whole thing gathered a lot of press. And I mean a lot, too,” Sowon explains, making your eyes widen. Nothing good ever comes from Taehyung receiving more attention than necessary. “Like, he set up a whole table outside of the Great Hall with that god awful pink posterboard and there were fourth and fifth years running up to him to grab surveys to fill out and he was putting them all into individual piles based on preferences and—quite honestly, I’d never seen him so popular and organized all at once. I swear he even managed to give one to Park, which shocks me because I’m pretty sure he has a thing for that one really quiet Puff in our year, the one that doesn’t talk.”

“Hold on,” you say, brain attempting to process everything Sowon’s just laid out in front of you. “You’re telling me Taehyung has somehow turned this ridiculous matchmaking service into a business?”

“I’m serious,” Sowon assures you. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone give him money, even if Kim does seem the type to enjoy setting people up together like this is the 1800’s just for the hell of it.”

You collapse back onto your bed, feeling old study guides and torn textbook pages fold under the pressure. “Jesus Christ.”

“You should fill it out,” Sowon tells you with a nudge. “Who knows? Kim seems like he knows what he’s doing. Maybe you’ll meet someone that will actually get you to move on from him,” Sowon tells you, that annoying thing called reason ringing in her tone.

“If only,” you sigh.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve been hung up on him since the day you met—don’t you think it’s time to try and branch out? Have you ever been on a real date? Like, a real one. None of this ‘we went to Hogsmeade together that one time’ bullshit.”

Your silence is all the answer Sowon needs.

“If you don’t make any attempts to move on then do you think you’ll ever be able to?” She asks you pointedly. You are damn well aware she knows the answer to her own question. “Or, you could fill it out and hope that Taehyung realizes every answer is about him.”

“No. Absolutely not. No way,” you immediately tell her.

“Then just try,” she says, shaking your shoulders for emphasis. “Who knows, you might end up finding someone you really enjoy spending time with. And if you don’t end up finding a date to the dance, you can always hang out with me. We’ll have a blast and we’ll trash talk every boy in our lives. How’s that sound?”

“Fun,” you grumble, not sounding like it’ll be very fun at all.

“Good,” Sowon says, satisfied. She stands up to head back downstairs to the common room, but before she does so, she points at you accusingly. “But you have to fill out that survey and give it to Kim. I’ll make you. And you know that I can be even more unbearably persuasive than him, so you better.”

With that, Sowon flutters down the stairs to leave you collapsed in a pile of papers and quills and books, staring at the survey in your hands.

Fine. If Sowon’s so insistent that you either tell Taehyung how you feel (not happening) or try and move on (a more likely scenario), then you may as well go all out. It’s not as though Taehyung will put too much thought into what you write down. For all he knows—friends is all you’ll ever be.

A deep breath, inhale and exhale. Where it says, “Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?” you mark down, in sharp, permanent, heavy black ink:

Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor.

“There he is,” you exclaim happily as you walk into the Hufflepuff common room, having finished up your classes for the day. Taehyung’s sprawled out on the hardwood floor, legs crossed, surrounded by what looks to be dozens of The Match Project surveys, some in stacks and organized piles and others carelessly displayed. “Everyone’s favorite matchmaker.”

“Don’t touch anything,” Taehyung orders, not even moving to look at you. “It makes sense in my head and if I think about anything else for too long, then it won’t make sense anymore.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” You ask, strolling up to him. You have to say, you’re quite impressed by his work ethic. Even if he is spending it on something that is arguable not work. His fingers flutter across the ground, moving papers here and there, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Taehyung admits. “I skipped Potions, I think. And Divination. But that’s it, I swear.”

“Taehyung!”

“What?” He cries defensively. “This is more important. I have until the end of the year to worry about my grades. The Celestial Ball is in less than a month!”

“You’ve been working at this for hours, Tae,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder. “Take a break for a little. Stretch your arms and legs.”

Taehyung pouts, like a petulant child who refuses to leave the candy store.

“Come on,” you say, giving in another persistent push. “No one’s going to fuck with your system. It’ll be good for your brain, and you can go back all refreshed and ready to go.”

You hold out your hand for him to take so you can pull him off the floor. He isn’t even sitting on a cushion or anything—his body must be aching for him to sit on a pillow or any sort of soft surface. He looks up at you, big brown eyes that shine caramel against the warm golden of his robes, and wraps his fingers around yours. The both of you crash on the couch, admiring all of the work that Taehyung’s put into this matchmaking service of his after only a few days. It’s booming.

“Are people really paying you to do this?” You ask, impressed.

Taehyung smiles guiltily. “They were at first, but now I’ve stopped accepting payment. I really like matching people together, you know? Just for fun. And it’s working out super well! Every match I’ve made has been successful so far.”

“Seriously?” You exclaim. “You must have a knack for this.”

“I do, thank you very much,” Taehyung tells you proudly, hands adjusting the collar of his robes for effect. “Speaking of which, you still have to give me your survey. Don’t think I’ve forgotten!”

“It’s up in the dorm, let me get it,” you tell him, getting off of the couch to scurry upstairs. You watch as Taehyung settles back into the couch cushions, letting the stress roll off of his back and sink into the fabric. You can’t imagine his job as Hogwarts’ unofficial official matchmaker is a walk in the park, even if he does enjoy it.

You return as quickly as you left, parchment held tightly between your fingers. It feels weird—giving your best friend a survey on who you’d most like to be with, who you’d most like to date. Especially when that best friend happens to be the answer to the survey (though that detail can remain hidden).

“Some of these questions are so… you, Tae,” you say with a shake of your head as you hand it over to him. “Like, I know that if you could re-classify any magical creature you’d lower the Crup to two X’s just because you want one as a pet so badly. You told me that in fourth year.”

Taehyung grins, caught red-handed. “I’m impressed you still remember.”

“Aren’t I supposed to?”

You lean into the cushions, feeling the tension fade from your skin as Taehyung gives your survey a quick overview. His expression seems to change from one of excitement to something undecipherable, even to you. His thick brows furrow and mouth turns down, lips pressed together in a thin line. Like he’s thinking about something. Like he has something to say, but has locked his lips for fear of the words escaping.

“Is everything alright, Tae?” You ask, leaning into him with a hand on his shoulder. Isn’t this what he wanted? A matchmaking survey filled out by you so he could match you with someone else?

And isn’t this what you wanted? A blank canvas, a fresh start, a clean slate? Someone to hold, to know, to love? Someone that isn’t Taehyung?

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a sigh, voice muffled. “Everything’s fine.”

Taehyung sets you up with a Gryffindor named Yuta three weeks before the Celestial Ball. He comes marching up to you while you’re eating lunch in the Great Hall and plops down both your survey and the Gryffindor in question’s with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Can I help you?” You ask as he swivels in to take a seat next to you, immediately helping himself to some of the roasted carrots on your plate.

“I’ve matched you with someone,” Taehyung says proudly, shoving the parchment in front of you. “Now,” he declares, “normally I don’t show the two people matched their surveys next to each other, but since you’re my best friend, I decided to make an exception.”

“Wow, I’m honored,” you say, mock-touched.

“You should be. He’s on the Quidditch team, which is what you wanted, right? Someone sporty and athletic,” Taehyung asks as clarification. You can hardly remember what you wrote down on your survey—all you distinctly recall is making sure your answers were the opposite of Taehyung in every way something could be the opposite of him.

“Yeah,” you trail off. “I mean I wrote that, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did,” Taehyung says with a hum, thinking about something else. “I think you’ll like him.”

“Cool,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he tells you.

Taehyung stares down at the wooden table.

You stare down at your roasted carrots.

The silence that befalls you isn’t one you’re used to—not the normal type where the two of you are sitting together without saying a word, appreciating each other’s presence without needing to vocalize it. It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all.

This one—it’s tense.

“Well,” Taehyung says, the conversation having fallen into something sufficiently awkward. “I’m gonna go. I have like, at least five surveys that just have Park’s name written all over them, which I’m going to have to figure out because I’m pretty sure he’s taken. So, yeah.” He gets up, sending you some version of a finger gun-peace sign, like he couldn’t decide which one to do so he ended up just doing a strange combination of both. “Enjoy your date because I worked really hard to match you. 90% approval rating, remember?” He says, tapping his temple. “See you around.”

He walks off without another word, waving to some other people in the Great Hall and accepting a few more surveys along the way, but his goodbye makes you frown.

See you around means that you’re not sure when next you’ll come across each other. See you around means that another meeting is unclear, unsolidified. See you around means that you only expect to see each other in passing, not on purpose.

See you around means maybe, but the only thing is that Taehyung’s never been a maybe to you.

Yuta’s nice. He’s almost nothing like Taehyung, athletic and really into professional Quidditch teams, something you know essentially nothing about. He has a close knit group of friends who are all either in Gryffindor or Slytherin, and on weekends they frequent the parties that Slytherin house throws that you and Taehyung have never attended.

But he’s patient and kind and walks you around Hogsmeade, pointing at all of his favorite stores and favorite things to eat. He explains how the professional Quidditch league works even if the information goes in one ear and right out the other. He buys two licorice wands and gives one to you, but you don’t have the heart to tell him how much you despise the flavor.

“You’re friends with Kim, aren’t you?” Yuta asks as the two of you take a seat in the Three Broomsticks. He flags down a waiter and orders two butterbeers and a basket of multi-grain bread, the weird wizarding kind that has all sorts of magical spices and nuts in it.

“You mean the one running this whole business?” You ask, trying your very best to prevent the conversation from going stale. “Yeah, guilty as charged. He’d been begging with me to fill out the survey.”

“But it’s all just to find a date to the dance, isn’t it?” Yuta asks as the waiter drops off the bread and butterbeer. He immediately takes a sip of his, the foam gathering at the corners of his mouth, making you laugh. “What? What’s funny?”

“Oh, just the butterbeer on your face,” you giggle. Immediately, Yuta grabs a napkin to wipe away the bubbles. “But yeah, Taehyung really wants me to go with someone.”

“Well, it’s nice of him to arrange this whole thing. I mean—not just because of me, but just in general. It’s obvious he really cares about you,” Yuta says before chuckling, like he’s remembering something. “He actually came up to me before we came out today. He told me that I better not fuck anything up with you because you have to have the perfect date to the Celestial Ball, no exceptions.”

You nearly cough up your butterbear. Sputtering, you ask, “he said that to you?”

Yuta nods, though it’s clear that whatever Taehyung told him, no matter how bizarrely threatening it was, didn’t faze him much, if at all. “Yeah,” Yuta tells you. “He’s really protective of you. I hope I’m doing this date justice.”

“You’re fine,” you assure him.

And it’s true. Yuta’s fine. But that’s really all he is—just fine, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t know your preferences or your likes and dislikes, which is fine, because you’ve hardly spoken. He’s respectful and friendly and generous, trying his hardest not to scare you away while also trying his hardest to keep you entertained.

But he talks about things you have no penchant for and buys you food that you think tastes disgusting, and the conversation isn’t stale, per se, but it’s by no means light and airy either. And you can’t even fault him for it, because it’s not his fault that the two of you got paired up. Not his fault he wrote down what he was looking for on the survey and you wrote the complete opposite. But everything he does makes you think of how Taehyung found him before the two of you came out to Hogsmeade and told him to treat you right or face his wrath.

At the end of the day, you have a fine time. Just fine.

“I enjoyed spending time with you today,” Yuta tells you as he drops you off outside of the Hufflepuff common room. “I think it went well, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug and a smile you hope doesn’t seem too forced. “It was nice. I’ll see you around, right?”

“Sure thing,” Yuta says with a grin as he turns to head back up to Gryffindor tower, where all of his Quidditch-playing, licorice-eating friends await him.

You unlock the door to the Hufflepuff common room and swing the wooden thing open, letting out an exhale you feel as though you’ve been holding in all day. Like always, there Taehyung is, sitting amongst a pile of matchmaking surveys organized just the way he likes it, brows knitted in concentration. Even the sight of him makes you relax, shoulders sinking and heart warming. God, you’re fucked.

“Oh, you’re back,” Taehyung says when he spots you walking in, mouth curving upwards. “How was it? Was it perfect? The best? 90% approval rating, don’t forget,” he reminds you as he stands up, disregarding his system to chat with you.

“It was… fine,” you tell him honestly. No point in lying. Maybe Taehyung has another match up his sleeve.

“‘Fine?’” Taehyung asks, shocked that for once, his algorithm’s failed. “Just fine?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, walking over to collapse in the seat by your favorite table. “He was nice and all, just… not really what I was hoping for.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says with a frown, seemingly disappointed in himself. “I thought he was perfect. He matched everything that you wrote down,” Taehyung pouts. He fumbles in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a neatly folded piece of parchment. Is that yours? Has he kept it all this time? “You wanted someone athletic and extremely sociable. Maybe a partygoer. Someone who was clean-cut and sharp. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not you, Tae,” you assure him, this day feeling longer than ever. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”

“But it was supposed to,” he says with a whine, making you smile at his childlike nature. He thumps down amongst his pile of papers and surveys and diagrams, hardwood floor creaking under the pressure. He stares at his surroundings, each survey filled out with such care, such hopefulness, and frowns. “I’m sorry,” he tells you. This isn’t something he should apologize for. “I just—I really thought, you know? I mean he matched everything you wanted and it really seemed like you two would just hit it off, or something. I guess not.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell Taehyung, walking over to him. The last thing you had wanted was for him to blame himself.

“I’ll try again, I promise,” Taehyung tells you firmly, fists clenched in confirmation. “I’m gonna find someone for you, Y/N. Someone perfect, who will treat you right and give you the best Celestial Ball experience of your life. Mark my words.”

“So I don’t get my money back just yet?” You ask, teasing him a little with a small grin on your face. Taehyung meets your eyes with his big brown ones, and you watch as a lopsided smirk overtakes his solemn expression. You miss seeing him like this. You miss being with him like this, like always.

Like you’re supposed to be.

“Not yet,” Taehyung tells you, snatching up a very specific pile in his circle of organizational hell and marching off, out of the room.

As the Celestial Ball draws nearer and nearer, Taehyung’s business, service, whatever the hell it is, only gains more and more attention, fools desperate for a date seeking out his aid. And, like always, Taehyung delivers with the utmost accuracy. He’s seemed to assume a somewhat permanent residence right outside the Great Hall, tri-fold on display and a never-ending supply of surveys sat at the table where he spends most of his time nowadays. And when he’s not sitting there, broadcasting The Match Project to anyone willing to listen, he’s surrounded by completed surveys in the Hufflepuff common room, circling him like flower petals.

You don’t really know how he matches people up, if you’re being honest. He says he’s got this system but that’s as much as he’ll tell you, your conversations these days brief and insignificant. You’ll walk into the common room to find him amongst his flurry of papers, say a brief hello and tell him to take a break because he’s straining his back, and head up to your room. If he sees you pass by his table outside the Great Hall on your way to a class, he’ll wave happily, usually surrounded by at least three or four people who are asking him about his services. Never enough time to talk.

You go on two more dates that Taehyung’s arranged for you. They’re not so much dates as they are meetings, little get-togethers to see if the two of you will get along well enough to accompany each other to the ball. A trip to Hogsmeade here, a bit of lunch in the Great Hall there.

Taehyung always makes sure to tell you exactly who he’s set you up with before you go out. He makes it a point to find you beforehand, shoving the two surveys in front of you just to prove that his decision is the best it could be.

“He’s really into playing football, which is that muggle sport where they kick around a black and white ball—”

“I know what football is, Tae.”

“Yeah, well. He also wants to work in Ministry and hopes to become the Minister one day.”

It makes you wonder—if he’s coming up to you to tell you everything he knows about the person you’re apparently destined to be with—if he’s going up to the person in question and warning them. Telling him what he told Yuta, the Gryffindor. Telling them that they better not fuck up because he only wants the best for you.

Is that scaring them off? What message is that sending to them?

Taehyung’s always been protective of you. It comes from being your best friend for so long—knowing you not even like the back of his hand but like his own face. It comes from always wanting the best for you, so much so that he’ll go through with making an entire matchmaking service just so that he finds you the perfect date for the fucking Celestial Ball. It’s always been like this.

Two unsuccessful dates later finds you with less than a week to go before the Celestial Ball and Sowon’s proposition of going with her and talking trash about the boys in your lives looking more appealing than ever. It wasn’t so much that they were failures as it was that they weren’t what you were looking for. Taehyung’s followed what you wrote down for the survey to a T, done his very best to pair you up, but nothing’s working. For what may or may not be obvious reasons, depending on how you look at it.

It’s one of the very few occasions when you creak open the door to the Hufflepuff common room to find Taehyung not sitting amongst stacks and stacks of papers, parchment worn and ink bleeding, sifting through the piles furiously, pairing different surveys off with each other before reorganizing the whole thing and starting all over again. Instead, you find him having fallen asleep mid-process, leaning against the back of the worn yellow couch with his mouth hanging open. Tufts of his golden hair dangle in front of his eyes, and a paper sits in his hand, like exhaustion had overcome him while he was in the middle of analyzing someone’s responses.

In sleep, Taehyung looks like a child. Not that he turns into a baby or ages backwards, but the hard lines from his furrowed brows and the tension in his shoulders vanishes, leaving behind someone who has yet to face the harshness of the real world. Someone who dreams just for the sake of dreaming, not because they need to worry about their future or are holding themselves to a standard of any sort. His skin is smooth and warm and his body is soft and comforting.

Watching him, you smile to yourself. Very rarely do you get to see Taehyung asleep—you stay in separate dorms and he almost never takes naps—and the sight reminds you, even if just briefly, of the closeness you share. There’s no one else in the common room besides the two of you, a gentle message that says, it’s always just been the two of you.

You have half of a mind to leave him there, let him rest. He’s been working himself to the bone over the past month, every person in Hogwarts’ student body desperate to get a taste of the matchmaking service he provides, not to mention a pile of seventh-year homework he has to get through nightly. But you know your best friend, you know Taehyung, you know everything there is to fucking know about him because he’s always on your mind and always in your thoughts, how could you ever forget anything about him? And you know that Taehyung hates going to bed because there is always something else that he wants, that he needs to do. It’s why he doesn’t take naps—why he’s always wishing that there were more hours in the day. Because there’s always so much to be done.

Slowly, you tiptoe over to him, hoping not to wake him roughly. You kneel down beside him, letting the sight of him sink deep into your memory so you won’t forget this, even when you’re old and wrinkly and can’t hold your wand properly anymore. You reach down to take the paper from his hands and place it with the rest of him, but one quick glance at the writing and you realize that it’s yours.

Which is strange, because he doesn’t know how your most recent date-not-date went, so why would he be looking at it? It’s not as though he knew that he needed to match you up again. You hold it up, staring at it, noticing how it’s worn around the edges, like it’s been looked at over and over. How the ink has faded, sunken into the paper, unmovable. Your fingers trace over your answers again. Looking for a Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. Someone extremely active. Wears well-fitting, sharp clothing. Clean-cut hair. Enjoys going out and hates staying in.

And you stare at what you’ve written like it’s personally offended you, hating the way the words taste in your mouth. Reading each response as you look over at Taehyung, still fast asleep against the back of the couch, and you see the way he sniffles in his sleep and all you can think is, who the fuck am I kidding?

Even if you filled out a million matchmaking surveys, you’d always end up right back here.

“Tae,” you say softly, quickly putting down your survey amongst the rest of the papers, like you haven’t been staring at it and pondering the meaning of your existence. “Tae, wake up.”

He mumbles something unintelligible in response, head swaying side to side as you slowly shake him awake.

“Tae, you fell asleep,” you murmur.

“Y/N?” He asks, recognizing your voice even through his sleepy haze.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes, almost as if he feels as though he’s dreaming the whole thing. “You fell asleep. Wake up.”

Taehyung shifts over slightly, but still seems to be dozing off, drifting in and out of consciousness. “Did you go on another date?”

“Mmm,” you hum a response, “I did.”

“Did it—” his head falls before he picks it back up again, “Did it go well?”

“It was alright,” you say. “But I wasn’t really interested in him.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung seems to lean into your touch, even if it is as simple as a hand on his shoulder. “I just wish… just wish I could find somebody—”

“What are you talking about, Tae?” You ask sadly, jerking him a little harder.

“Find somebody you’d want to be with,” he finishes up. “I read—” a hiccup, “I read your thing and I realized that I can’t keep hoping—hoping you’ll want me instead of someone else—”

“Taehyung, what’s going on?” You ask, eyes widening as his drowsy mind betrays his thoughts. What on earth is he talking about? Could—could it be?

“I tried my best,” he says, and it sounds so goddamn sad. Makes your breath hitch in your throat at the sound of his words, faltering slightly, either from sleep or from truth.

“Tae, wake up,” you say, giving him a hard shake, unsure if you can handle anything else that spills from his lips. His eyes blink open, big and dark and beautiful, like always, and his mouth curves into a hazy smile when he sees you. You’re almost positive he has no recollection of what he’s just told you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks as he yawns, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “Didn’t you have a date?”

“I just got back,” you tell him, moving away. Maybe he can’t see you shaking. “You fell asleep.”

“I did?” He asks, looking at his surroundings, blinking a few more times. “Oh, I guess I did.”

“I just came to wake you, you know,” you say casually, standing back up and dusting yourself off. “I know you hate taking naps.”

“Thanks,” he tells you, leaning forward to gather up all of the surveys. They’re in relatively good order, other than the one sitting on top of the pile, out of place. Yours.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” you say, already beginning to beeline it to your dorm. Can he hear your heart pounding? It sounds like a bass drum in your ears.

“Wait, Y/N?” He says, catching your attention.

You turn around to look at him, see him gazing back up at you like there are a million thoughts flying through his mind. You can’t imagine you look much different.

“Do you think he was the one?” He asks.

You shake your head. It’s the easiest question you’ve ever been asked, especially when the answer is staring you right in the face. “No,” you tell him. “I don’t.”

The night of the Celestial Ball, you’re sitting on your bed in a pale blue dress sent to you by your mother, staring at your fingertips. Obviously dateless, Sowon’s made the executive decision to take you under her wing, even if she is already going with someone else from your year. She promised she wouldn’t leave you out.

The ball is already an hour in when she pops her head into the dormitory, long brown hair done neatly in an updo and a creamy white dress draped over her body. She looks gorgeous, but she always does, so this isn’t unusual.

“I know I said I wanted to be fashionably late, but this wasn’t what I was going for, you know,” Sowon says jokingly, walking over. She hands you a white rose from her bouquet, placing it between your fingers. “What’s got you so down? You can’t be in a bad mood when we trash talk men. I won’t have it.”

“Nothing,” you sigh, helpless. Taehyung and you haven’t spoken since you found him asleep in the common room, and now you’re sitting on your bed on the night of the Ball, his only failed survey.

“You’ve never been a very good liar, Y/N,” Sowon says with a shake of her head. “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it?”

You don’t need to move a muscle to give Sowon the answer she’s looking for. It’s as if his name is sitting in the air, permeating the oxygen. Like it’s inescapable, wherever you go.

“I took your advice and everything got worse,” you deadpan, trying to laugh at yourself. Instead, the sound comes out more like a dying goose. Things haven’t been going well recently.

“Impossible.” Sowon frowns. “My advice is golden.”

“I went out with a bunch of people and tried to move on and I couldn’t.”

Sowon smiles to herself, a small sigh escaping her lips as she sits down next to you, takes your hands in her own. “Okay,” she says. “So maybe you didn’t move on. Maybe you’re still thinking about Taehyung even after trying your hardest not to. But that’s okay, alright? It’s okay to not move on sometimes. You weren’t expected to fall head over heels in love with one of those people you went out with. All you did was branch out. And maybe it didn’t work, but that’s alright. What matters is you tried, Y/N. You tried your fucking best and you shouldn’t have to wallow in self-pity on the night of the Celestial Ball, of all nights, because of it.” She stares you straight in the eyes and normally you would be intimidated, but the fond grin lacing her features soothes your worries. “That’s not what I wanted for you. And that’s not what Taehyung wanted for you either. Obviously. Otherwise he wouldn’t have done all of this for you. Even if it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Ugh,” you huff out, falling against your bedsheets, crumpling up the hair that Sowon so painstakingly did for you earlier. “I just—I wish it was easier, you know? That I wasn’t so hung up on him.”

“Well,” Sowon declares confidently, “then let’s go down to the ball and you can show him how much you don’t need him. Or any date, for that matter. Because you’re a strong, independent woman who doesn’t conform to stereotypical secondary school heteronormative dating standards.” She pulls you up with her.

“I’m pretty sure that once I see him enjoying himself with his own date, I’ll realize that for myself,” you muse. You never did ask if Taehyung, after all that time spent helping others, found a date for himself. But, knowing him, he probably had no problem doing so.

“Taehyung doesn’t have a date,” Sowon tells you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“What?” You ask, blinking in shock. Taehyung? Dateless? Now, that’s a surprise.

“Yeah,” Sowon says. “When Nayeon and I went down earlier, I saw him sitting at one of the tables all by himself. He was like, halfway finished a second glass of the fruit punch. I thought you knew.”

“No, I had no idea,” you say, shaking your head. You wonder if he even tried to match himself up with anyone else in his service. You did make him fill out one of his own forms, after all. He must have at least tried. There must have been plenty of people eyeballing him, submitting a survey in the hopes that they would end up paired with him. Surely, there must have been someone he would have worked well with.

It’s almost like he was waiting for someone.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Sowon, do you have any spare surveys? Any?”

“Me? Yeah, he gave me one even though he knew I was already sort of semi-seriously seeing somebody,” Sowon says. “Why?”

“Can I have it?” You ask, eyes wide and full of hope. Maybe Taehyung is waiting for somebody.

Maybe all he needed was an excuse to be with them.

Sowon shuffles through her belongings and hands you the survey, all crumpled up after weeks of sitting in her desk drawer, forgotten about. She asks if you need anything else, and if you’re going to be joining her. You tell her not to wait up, because you have something you need to do beforehand.

“Okay,” Sowon says as she begins to walk from the room. “But I’d hurry it up, if I were you. Time you spend up here is time you’re wasting down there, with him.” With that, she winks before her dress disappears down the stairs.

It’s as if she’s known all along.

Do you have any House preferences (you may pick more than one)?

Hufflepuff. Seventh year.

Describe your ideal type.

Someone so determined to find his best friend a date that he makes an entire matchmaking service for them. Scruffy hair. Needs a haircut. Hates naps.

Someone who loves you back.

By the time that you reach the Great Hall, the Celestial Ball is in full swing. Flitwick is conducting the band as they play a fun, lighthearted tune, and students of all years are dancing around, enjoying each other’s company.

You spot him sitting at one of the corner tables. There are crushed velvet curtains behind him, a soft rose gold color reflecting in the candlelight. Good choice.

He’s all alone, as Sowon told you earlier, and there’s an empty goblet with a couple red droplets still left inside.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you deadpan, a small smirk playing across your lips. Taehyung looks up at you, and you watch as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. You have to admit, he looks awfully good in that suit of his, muted yellow bowtie complimenting his warm brown hair and golden skin. From a distance, he looks like one of those Greek gods, goblet by his side, ethereal glow surrounding him.

“So much fun,” Taehyung says, immediately scooting over so you can take a seat in the chair next to him. The two of you stare out into the sea of students in the Great Hall, watching as everyone enjoys themselves on one of the most exciting nights of the school year.

“Looks like The Match Project was a success,” you comment softly. “Everyone seems to really be enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees. “I mean, it was just a one time thing, but I think that I did well.”

“Me too, but you’re sitting here, dateless.”

“So?” Taehyung asks with a huff.

“So, how are you, my incredible, talented, dedicated, hardworking, inspiring, artistic icon of a best friend, dateless?” You ask, forcing Taehyung to look at you. You’re grinning, beaming, maybe, and it makes him roll his eyes. “Didn’t you fill out the survey, too?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “But I couldn’t really… find anyone that matched with me perfectly. So here I am.”

“Well,” you say, placing your second and final survey in front of him, “I have one more for you.”

“Y/N, you know I don’t really care about—”

“Just read it, Tae.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes fondly at your persistence, but does so nonetheless, eyes glazing over the ink scrawled across the page, messy and unkempt from rushing. You watch as something lights up in his eyes the more he reads, like a single spark illuminating the night sky before the fireworks follow. Watch as he can’t contain the way his mouth widens into a smile, all teeth, the way his cheeks turn to a soft muted scarlet.

“What is this, Y/N?” He asks, like he can’t believe his eyes. He turns to you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so hopeful, so desperate.

“It’s—it’s the survey I meant to give you the first time,” you tell him. “I should have just told you, I know, but I just—I had been in love with you for so long and I thought that maybe it was just time to move on so I filled out everything by writing down things that I knew were the opposite of you but it didn’t work out so—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Taehyung says, stopping you with a hand up. He reaches down to hold your hands in his own, “go back a bit.”

“Well, I thought it was time to move on so—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Further back.”

“I should have told you—?”

He shakes his head again. “No. Just a little after that.”

You look at him and it feels like all the weight has been lifted off of our shoulders. Feels like when you crash on the couch in the Hufflepuff common room after a long day. Feels like when the sun streams in through the windows and lights up your favorite table. Feels like home.

“I’d been in love with you for so long,” you say, and it sounds like a song. Sounds like music to your goddamn ears.

“Yeah.” Taehyung smiles to himself. “That part.”

“What about it?” You ask teasingly.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “it’s just nice to hear. Taken you forever, but I suppose the wait’s been worth it.”

“Hold on a second,” you say. “You knew?”

“What?” Taehyung asks. “No, I had no idea. I just—I figured that if you were confessing, or whatever this is, then you knew how I felt about you,” he says. “God, I tried so hard to keep it from you because I was so—I was so scared that you’d find out and never want to speak to me again, but you sit next to me on the couch and let me tickle you and you wake me up when I accidentally fall asleep and you still use that bookmark I made you in second year and God, I can’t help it. And then you handed me your survey and I read it and it was nothing like me and I just thought, ‘Fuck,’ but I wasn’t going to fuck with your love life just because I was in love with you, so I tried my best to pair you up according to my system, but I guess—”

“I guess we both made mistakes,” you say, finishing his sentence. “Every time I thought about that survey, or the dates you sent me on, I—I always thought about what you had written. I wondered if you were searching for someone, too.”

“I was,” Taehyung says.

“So was I,” you say.

“Did you find them?” He asks, leaning in.

You nod, feeling his breath fan out against your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “I did.”

Then, he presses his lips to yours, and it feels like a warmth spreads throughout your body, from your heart to your bloodstream to your fingertips, engulfing you from the inside out. Feels like something in you has caught on fire—perhaps your heart, knowing you—and you won’t be making any efforts to put it out. Taehyung presses his lips to yours and pulls you close to him, wraps his hands around your body in every way that he can, every way possible.

Things like this—they’ve been a long time coming. Of course they have.

You and Taehyung part, breaths heavy as you rest your foreheads against each other. It feels so natural. It feels like this was always meant to be. Like this was written in the stars from the moment the two of you laid eyes on each other.

“I guess The Match Project does have a 100% guarantee,” you say. The last two people who ended up dateless found each other in the end. Go figure.

“I told you,” Taehyung says. “How would you rate your experience with The Match Project, on a scale of one to ten?”

“A million,” you declare happily, pulling him in for another kiss. “A billion. The service was unparalleled. I mean, I found the love of my life? What more could you ask for?”

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imbuckysplum · 4 years

Text

Now listen I know I’m not the best writer but this idea just wouldn’t leave my head so here you go I don’t really have a title for it so if you have ideas I’ll gladly accept them:) the plot is bacially you and Steve go to see Peggy and she tells Steve to finally make his move. It’s 1.8k words:)

There was a knock at your door. “Y/N, you almost ready to go?” Steve's voice flooded your ears as you stood in front of your mirror. “I’ve got donuts.” At the mention of food your ears pricked up like a cat. “Coming Steve.” You applied a coat of chapstick, grabbed your jacket and ever so dramatically opened the door. “I’m ready.” You said in a singsong voice. Steve gave you a little smile. “Ok so which ones mine?” You asked looking at the donuts in his hands. He just rolled his eyes, “pick.” You ended up choosing the glazed chocolate one, leaving Steve with a frosted vanilla. Donuts in hand the two of you walked down the hall to the elevator.

“Let me press the button!” But you were a little too late, Steve’s hand was already on the button. This caused you to grab his finger instead. You couldn’t see yourself, but you could feel the blush creeping up your neck. “Oh- um- I’m sorry.” You let go of his finger blushing harder than before. “I-t’s all good.” Steve’s face was bright red. You had basically given up on the idea of Steve liking you back. Every time you tried to show interest he would act all casual, like you were just friends doing friend things. And his blush before would have been a sign to anybody who didn’t know him that he liked you, but you know him. Steve is Steve, he blushes over everything. Plus you backed off once you found out Peggy was still alive. In fact that’s where you were going today, to see her. After the whole finger thing was over, you and Steve stepped into the elevator.

Trying to take your mind off of what a fool you just made out of yourself, you asked “are you nervous?” Steve looked at you. “How did you know?” You let out a small laugh. “Steve you're tapping your foot, and you have shifty eyes. A moth could tell that you're nervous.” His nose scrunched up. “That obvious huh.” The elevator dinged signaling for the two of you to get out. “It’s a good thing we have Natasha around to do undercover work, because acting isn’t your thing Rogers.” Steve just rolled his eyes, and tossed you a helmet. Hopping on his motorcycle behind him, you grabbed his waist. This part always made you blush. The way you could feel his muscles ripple as he breathed in and out. You had never actually seen Steve shirtless, but you imagined it a lot. If what people say is really true he’s built like a god, sculpted from the finest marble known to man. And that’s what, despite your best effort, you were doing right now.

“Earth to Y/N. Come in Y/N.” You blinked a couple of times. “W-what, I’m here.” You didn’t sound like it though, part of your mind still in your daydream. “Well I’m glad you're here, because we are here.” It took you a moment to realize what he meant. You guys were in the hospital parking lot. Already? That was really fast. Steve took off his helmet, it messed up his hair a little bit which was super cute. No Y/N you can’t think these things right now, you’re going to see the love of Steve’s life. You need to respect that. Over and over again you repeated that to yourself as you walked down the hallway with Steve down to her room.

“Steve I-” As if things couldn’t get any worse you tripped over your shoelace. The thing is the ground never came. Instead when you opened your eyes there was Steve holding on to your waist. “After all these years you’re still prince charming.” Steve helped you stand up right. Your eyes landed on the source of the voice. An elderly woman who even though aged was still beautiful. “Hey Peg.” Steve smiled sweetly at the woman. Oh lord, you just tripped into her room. That made things bad, you could feel another blush coming on. “And who might the princess be?” You were a little confused for a second, there was no other girl in the room, but then you got it. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a smile. “Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” She gave you a weak smile. You blushed a little, and took a seat down in the corner.

This was Steve’s special moment, you were only here for support. You played with the hem of your shirt. It’s not like Steve was going to marry her, but it still kinda hurt you to see him with someone he loved so much that wasn’t you. And you know it’s wrong, he’s not yours, but you couldn’t shift your mind.

After about thirty minutes Steve got up from his chair, “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.” Steve left the room leaving behind a silence. That silence didn’t last long though. “Y/N come here would you.” You looked up surprised, but walked over and sat at the foot of the old woman's bed. “Steve is a very special man, and I know you know that. But I can also tell you’re a very special girl. I can see why Steve loves you.” You looked at the floor and then back at Peggy. “Love is a strong word, I mean we're frien- “ She cut you off. “No Y/N, when he caught you I saw the look in his eyes, the look of a man deeply in love. I know because he looked at me that way a long time ago.”

She smiled at you, her eyes lighting up her wrinkled face. Almost as if she could read your thoughts she said “It’s ok Y/N. I’m not upset. I’m proud of him. Of all the girls in the world he picked a woman. You’re strong, brave, selfless, funny, beautiful, all things I admire.” Wow, you were blushing so hard. “How did you know, all the stuff I mean?” She let out a low chuckle. “My dear this isn’t the first time Steve has come to see me. He’s told me so much about you.” That was a real eye opener for you. Steve told Peggy about you. It was a lot to take in. The old woman smiled at you again.

At that moment Steve came back into the room. “Peg are you trying to scare her away.” He said with a slight smirk. “Quite the opposite actually.” It was her turn to smirk when Steve’s face went red. “Listen Y/N we need to go, Tony is nagging me about training some new recruits. It was nice to see ya Peg, I’ll come back soon.” Steve bent down to hug her. She lifted her head up and whispered something into his ear. You couldn’t tell what she might have said, Steve was facing away from you. Whatever it was though must have been really important for you not to get to hear it. After all they were talking out loud with you in the room for a long time before this. Steve let her go. She waved at you, and gave you a little wink.

What that wink meant you thought about for the rest of the day, and again when you woke up to train in the morning. You liked to get up early so you could play music in the gym without anyone being annoying about it. Changing into legging and a sports bra, you grabbed your water and headed to the gym. You connected your phone to the speakers in the room via Jarvis. Selecting your workout playlist, you got to work. You were just about finishing up when My Love for You by Frank Sintra came on.

Weird, you have no memory of ever adding this to your playlist, but it is a good song. You left it on as you went about cleaning up. Shutting your eyes you started to hum along, and soon enough dance along. Steve was just coming in from his morning run. He was coming to use the punching bag when he saw you. Still kinda sweating from your workout, but nonetheless just as cute as you always are. He thought about what Peggy told him yesterday, to go for it with you. Steve wasn’t that good at being smooth, but he thought he could pull this one off.

Slowly making his way over to you, he started to sing along. “So it will be, far beyond eternity, Ever faithful ever true. My love for you.” You heard the voice behind you, and instantly spun around. “Stevie don’t scare me like that!” You pushed him playfully.

He didn’t say a word, he just put one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder. You got the memo, and did the same thing. What had gotten into him you had no idea, but you never wanted it to stop. There you guys stayed for what felt like the best eternity of your life swaying back and forth.

“Stev-” He cut you off. “Y/N I love you, and I’m sorry if I never showed that I did. I’m sorry if I played with your feelings at all. It was never my intention. I just haven’t felt the way I do about you about anyone in seventy years.” You kinda figured what Peggy had told him and what the wink meant. “I love you too Steve.”

And with that your feet were off the ground. Steve lifted you up, and gave you what was probably the most romantic kiss you’ve ever had in your life. “I’m gonna show you how much I love you starting with tonight. How does dinner sound?” You just about died right there. The man you’ve had a crush on for years just kissed you, told you he loved you, and now wanted dinner. Now you knew what all those girls in romcoms felt.

“Dinner sounds great Stevie, now can you put me down, I need to shower.” You giggled, wiggling your hovering feet. “Sorry.” His ever so famous blush returned. He placed you ever so gently back on the ground. “I’ll swing by your room at seven?” You gave him a bright smile. “Seven sounds great.”

You grabbed your water bottle and started to head out. “By the way doll, you look good when you're done working out. I mean you do all the time-” Another giggle fell from your lips. You called back to him. “I think you look good after working out too Rogers.” That’s when the brick fell on your head. Did he just call you doll? Life can’t get better than this.

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans #marvel

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bbbarneswrites · 4 years

Text

Small Places

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm? Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 3,809 words

Notes: Here we are with a new piece after all these months! The songs we got for this one are The Moon by The Swell Season and Cellar Door by Angus & Julia Stone. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback always welcomed! <3

The small studio stays right in the heart of Brooklyn, surrounded by themed bars, bright restaurants and a crowd of millennials that makes him cringe every once in a while.

It’s a shoebox.

A bed that fights for space with a small couch, a kitchen that can be sized by two of his steps alone and a cramped bathroom with a bathtub that he honestly can’t fit in. But be as it may, Bucky has never been in a more comfortable, warm and welcoming atmosphere.

A bed with polka-dotted, fluffy blankets, a couch with bright colored and quirky pillows, a kitchen with a line of gifted succulents by the counter and a bathroom with filled shelves of sweet smelling products.

Pictures on the walls, sketches and love notes hung to the fridge, shared clothes thrown over in little corners.

Everything is so lively and familiar—it feels like home outside of his home.

The four walls of your little studio have been witnesses to so much. Whispered love confessions, frantic murmurs of comfort, quiet pleads in between moans, anger filled little lies, and the list can only go on.

There’s a Friday night.

Discarded containers of take-out on the coffee table, and maybe a carton of Ben & Jerry’s forgotten around after a fight over the last spoon. Netflix midway through a random episode of Stranger Things because yeah, Bucky has a growing crush on Winona Ryder. Peace fills up every fiber of his being, and looking down to the sight before him, things can’t feel more right.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” You mumble quietly, chin leaning up to rest upon his chest. A flesh arm tightens around your frame, and a lazy grin grows on your lips. “Are you nervous being around me, Bucky?”

The lightness laced to your voice is familiar, a tone he’s heard many, many times within the warmth of a shared trustfulness.

A smile curls up his lips. Even then, the sound never fails to make Bucky content and happy.

“I’m always nervous around you, baby.” He jokes, a gentle kiss pressing to your temple that earns a happy hum from your chest. “You’re way out of my league.”

Bucky’s smile widens with a muffled whine of protest, and his vibranium hand reaches out to push a strand of hair away from your eyes when you shift on the way-too-small couch. With your face still buried to his chest, there’s no space left between both of you. The fluffy hem of your socks tickles his legs and the skin of his tummy rise up in shivers under your fingers.

Meanwhile, Erica Sinclair goes off about capitalism on TV.

Despite the length of your relationship, a small part of him still gets surprised over moments like this.

Soft fingertips reaching out to his marred left shoulder, a light touch to trace the harsh and old outlines of his scars, by now the only ugly looking, physical reminder of a time of his life that’s best left behind to be buried and forgotten.

With a little giggle escaping from your mouth, Bucky halts his thoughts to focus.

“You’re cute.” You wink playfully, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh. His cheeks instantly flush a little under the fairy lights of your walls. “This little scar here looks like a stick figure.”

The touch feels nice as your index finger brush over a particular spot near his collarbone. Though he’s observed every single detail of the marks in several occasions, more than enough to make him very familiar with its designs, he immediately takes your hand with his own. Wrapped fingers together, you guide him through his little stick figure.

It’s a little joke, he knows, but Bucky still grins as you make him trace the funny lines of a quirky drawing to his own skin.

And when you tip his chin with your thumb a moment later? Warmth radiating from your body pressed up to his? And lips sweetly meeting his own?

That’s his peace.

There’s a Wednesday morning.

After arriving from a mission, sore muscles and half-healed scabs, Bucky just couldn’t see himself going back to the apartment he shares with Sam—especially after a two week long mission, taking in everything that his partner had to say. And trust, Sam Wilson has a lot of things to say.

To top of it all, he’s missed you.

Missed your laugh and your kisses and your touch. The way you tuck his hair behind his ears, the plush of your lips to the base of his neck. Your cuddles and your warmth and your care. Two long, painstaking slow weeks.

The place is warm as he steps in, slits of moonlight escaping through your blinds. Coming home to you feels right, takes off an edge from his heart, as if everything is right in the world again.

Only silence as Bucky slips under the blankets.

Bleary eyes barely taking him in.

And a happy but tired hum before a familiar frame cuddles to his side.

Sleep welcomes him right in.

Any person that lives in New York can easily list a series of upsides and downsides to coexisting in a studio apartment this small. An upsidde is that you can see and hear everything and the downside is that you can see and hear everything.

White numbers cover up your face on the screen of his phone as it marks 3:36AM. The shuffling and clashing in the kitchen isn’t unusual except for the late hour. Barely four hours of sleep later, and Bucky’s watching a pajama-clad you pour chocolate into a bowl through squinted, heavy eyes.

“Think I need to put you on a sleep schedule.” He murmurs. The sound is low but enough to make you jump on the spot, turn around with a scowl that makes him chuckle. “Come back to bed.”

The tense features of your face melt into a mix of worry and dejection.

“I can’t!” You cry, hands coming up to cover your face in frustration, words all muffled. “I promised I’d bake brownies for the book fair but I was so tired and I meant to take a nap while waiting for you but I just slept and now I woke you up!”

It takes two steps until Bucky has your frame into his arms, a perfect fit that rises butterflies in your stomach after the two, very long weeks. With vibranium fingertips brushing along your cheeks in a gentle caress, every negative feeling slips away.

“You were waiting for me?” Bucky pulls back a little, enough to see you pout through a nod. A loving smile grows easily to his mouth right before a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

Brownies are made in record time with two sets of wandering hands.

And are successfully sold out by two excellent sellers.

There’s a Monday afternoon.

Clouds are looming over the city. Cold, bitter winds singing loud enough outside. The first few signs of fall can be spotted by a quick walk in the neighborhood by now, trees turning into different shades of brown as pumpkin orange starts to pop everywhere.

Back to a few hours earlier, Bucky begrudgingly kisses you goodbye at the cramped doorstep, fixing your heart-shaped earmuffs with a wish of a good day at school. No paperwork or assignments under his name for a change, the place shelters him from any unexpected Avenger responsability, and he’s more than glad to wait home for you.

Separated dirty clothes, clean dishes back to the cupboards, made-up bed with fresh sheets, organized books and trinkets and papers for the small study table.

Homecoming isn’t as comforting.

Between quiet sniffles, red-rimmed teary eyes and angry huffs of frustration with the addition of a warm tea cup, Bucky cuddles you up to his lap until peace has settled again.

“You gonna tell me who I’m killing tonight?” He jokes half-heartedly, chest a little bit lighter as you giggle quietly, offering a slap to his arm. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

A single look from you and his heart swells with affection, the feelings hidden behind the simple act never failing to leave him speechless, wondering if there’s another shoe to drop.

There’s always another shoe to drop in his life.

“You don’t do that anymore, remember?” You say softly, a smart smile playing on your lips that’s followed by a tired, but now content sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Just a bad morning in school that wasn’t expected.”

Hands brought closer together and a kiss pressed to your knuckles by his lips.

Bad days take no excuse.

“Okay, doll.” Bucky frowns, eyes squinted in pretend suspicion as he smirks. “You really sure though? I can call Sam.”

“I’m sure, goober.” You roll your eyes through a laugh, instantly leaning closer until his lips are brushing to your own. “It’s all better now with you.”

Seventy years of a missed life, most of which he’s spent nearly under seven feet underground, locked up like an animal and abused for selfish power. Ruthless damage to every inch of his being, every sliver of hope taken from him without permission for decades. Now, eight years after a seeming never ending storm, Bucky finds reason in all of this.

It feels good to know that she’s with him too.

And if the day ends up to both of you curled up in the back booth of the diner down the street, ordering a late night breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon, then it’s a good day after all.

There’s a Thursday night.

The day has been slow in the apartment given your day-off from school. Silence and a few movies on Netflix are your companions, except for the visit of your friendly neighborhood stray cat, Alpine, who climbs up to your windowsill every day without fail. Bucky is usually the one who feeds him, and mostly the one who’s unofficially adopted the kitten.

A pause here for a quick, improvised meal between homework, another pause there for a bath under glittery bath bombs.

Being away from him is normal.

His missions can last to mere hours to unexpected months. Living within the job is basically the norm, all with recruits training, team meetings and securing duties. Your classes are demanding, both physically and mentally. It never ends and never leaves you, always something to be started or done back home.

Either way, anxiousness never leaves you in a week like this.

Nearing a certain date on the calendar, Bucky’s plagued by restless nights.

It feels like a sore spot in his body, one he knows all about it but still can’t help but be upset at, poking and prodding around as a way to remember it. Despite knowing his best-friend way too well, Steve’s choice wasn’t one taken lightly back then.

The reasoning is fair and understandable but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness of a brief meeting after a six year long disappearance.

Not much can be done by now, but two years after Steve’s official death, Bucky still plays what ifs in his head.

After gentle coaxing in between kisses in the night before and encouraging hugs and squeezes in the morning after, Bucky spends the whole day back at the compound, a scheduled therapy session set to the calendar of his phone.

When sunlight falls to a sheet of night stars, familiar but heavy steps sound like music to your ears.

A random song playing through your laptop and slow beats welcome Bucky home.

It takes a single look at you until he’s sighing relieved, hauling your frame up to his arms in the middle of the small kitchen, where you both barely fit in during busy mornings with shoulder bumps and mumbled but playful complaints.

Sure it has been a pretty nostalgic day but nothing beats being right there.

“You smell good.” Bucky says, an almost shy mumble against your hair, his arms gently tightening around you. “Peach?”

The easy but definitely familiar guess makes you smile instantly. Heat rises on your cheeks, your chin rests on his chest as your eyes look for his own, very blue, very alive compared to a few hours back. Golden detailed fingertips brush your cheeks and a content hum escapes from your lips instantly.

“That bathbomb you gave me, remember?” You smile, voice sounding small and equally as shy until Bucky tips down, his lips meeting your own in a featherlike kiss that makes you sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and then, the smooth sway starts. Finding rhythm with the slow beats still playing background, you can’t help but feel your chest lighter. In that moment, neither of you need to share words to know, he doesn’t need to tell you about his session for the feelings to sink.

Despite any doubt and above any insecurity, being right there feels just right.

It’s not his day and age. For a long time, he was nothing but a misplaced piece of the universe. Then without his best-friend, just an unknown face for the team to swallow.

Not anymore.

There was a time of misplacement and sure, he no longer has Steve on a back-up call but life has given him good things. Good people. Sam and Wanda. Love. You. And in that moment, after a long day of reflection, Bucky just feels thankful above any odd feeling.

“Feelin’ great.” He muses. It’s genuine and it makes your smile widen upon his accent slip, only cut short by Bucky’s lips briefly meeting yours again. “Thank you.”

Background music switching to an upbeat song and the shared slow, careful sway doesn’t change.

“What for?” You frown, wide eyes flicking between confusion and amusement through a quiet, huffed laugh. A beat until you look up through your eyelashes, and a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky bites back the reply—you’ve done everything and more, you’re everything—words for another time, other plans, a day with a better start. After all, he’s not going anywhere.

This is his place now.

And in the end of the day, that’s all it matters.

There’s a Saturday afternoon.

An array of long dresses and skirts mix-up with button-ups and printed ties on the bed, make-up and skin products all over the cabinet. The sun slowly lies down to a soft hue of orange that paints the bedroom space, and the off-beat singing coming from the bathroom makes you smile every now and then.

A coat of lipstick to the lips, mascara to the eyelashes. A well-placed hair pin to the side of your hair. Out of the bathroom Bucky gets, black suit and tie in place, not a wrinkle on sight to the white button-up shirt. The singing turns to a faint humming.

Short hair, trimmed beard. His blue eyes are alight. Positively beaming.

It’s just a few hours to go until the big event starts—Mr. and Mrs. Wilson anniversary, which they’re celebrating with one big ceremony to renew their vows with their children present. Bucky, much to Sam’s feigned dismay and Darlene Wilson’s stubborness, is now considered one of them.

In the very few opportunities you got to meet Darlene, she was nothing short of sweet to you and incredibly motherly to your boyfriend. Not much is needed to see how happy Bucky is to be participating in their day, and you can’t help but beam right back at him.

“Looking so handsome!” You grin, watching through the mirror as Bucky sits on the bed, shiny black shoes set on the floor. His lips are holding back a smirk. “I mean it, Bucky! This hair? I’m marrying you.”

At the words, Bucky looks up.

Between the Blip, his missions, your classes and whatnot, neither of you ever discussed the possibilities of a long-term future.

Have you both thought about it, though? Absolutely.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Bucky sighs. Quickly settling into his shoes, a crooked smile curves up his mouth as he stands up, gentle fingers around your satin clad waist. “You’re so beautiful. I’m a lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

It feels like your brain instantly turns to mush over his words, and your tongue stumbles to find proper words to reply his sudden sweet outburst. Heat spreads through your neck and cheeks as you lean back against his chest, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap you completely with such warmth like home is supposed to feel.

Watching your reflections through the mirror, you can’t help but think how comforting the situation is, even if it can look silly to anybody else. How comforting is to see you with him, the changes, the little quirks that remain the same after a straight up mess.

How funny is it that you want to turn your little comment into reality?

How funny is it that Bucky wants that moment of certainty to freeze?

“You’ve got to help me with something.” You break the silence, smiling shyly before reaching out to the small jewelry box sitting on your make-up cabinet. A silver necklace with a studded little star is pulled out. “Please?”

Smart fingers wrap the necklace around your neck with ease, the touch of vibranium rising shivers to your skin as Bucky closes it with a little kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

There’s that little moment of silence again until a sigh escapes from his lips, a beat of hesitancy rushing through his body before he’s fishing for the black box in his pocket. A box he’s been carrying for way too long now, just waiting for its buyer to build up the damn courage because that’s all it takes.

I mean it, Bucky! I’m marrying you.

“I’ve got something else for you to wear tonight.” Bucky says. Heart pounding violently through his chest, so much he thinks you might hear it, but voice sounding as light as ever under your curious eyes. “I—I’ve had it for a long time now. And I know it might not be the perfect moment but you just said you’d marry me.”

Turning around to face him, your mouth immediately falls open. Chest to chest, your eyes searching for his. And ss Bucky lifts the little velvet box and flips it open so, so easily with his metal thumb, your choked, disbelieved laugh fills the room.

The ring is beautiful.

No fancy stones, just a simple, silver band formed to wrap around a finger with its two ends meeting together on the top.

Both of you kept meeting each other over and over through accords, battles and sudden disappearances.

It’s meaningful enough to make your heart beat faster.

“You can’t be serious. Are you?” You ask dumbly, a silly smile soon growing on your lips as Bucky gives a playful glare. “You are. Holy shit, Bucky!”

“You aren’t sayin’ yes, baby doll.” Bucky jokes, starting to feel jittery with nerves despite a small grin. Under the anxiety and accent slip, he’s just loving to see how positively astonished you look. “I’m sweating under this suit and it won’t be good for—”

Red lips crash upon his in a rush, your fingers fisting the lapels of his suit so hard that Bucky almost stumbles on his feet, making him pull your body flush against his own. He’s sure your fingers are wrinkling his jacket just as much as his metal ones are wrinkling the delicate fabric of your dress. And your make-up, thank God, you’re wearing the smudge-proof lipstick.

There’s no time to breathe between quick, several pecks and a gasped but definitely excited reply.

“I am saying yes!”

There’s another Satuday afternoon.

A pair of booted feet walks through the tight hallway of the shoebox apartment, laughter completely filling the place as a pair of heeled feet bumps the wall in a funny noise.

The white sandals are a perfect match for the white mini dress, its hem flowing over very familiar thighs, showing a little too much because the position—or general space really, isn’t the best. Turns out that despite your skepticism, Bucky can carry you in bridal style through the cramped space. Even though, you can easily spot a stain in the back of his blazer because of a knocked vase.

It doesn’t really matter.

As Bucky puts you down, your heels are kicked off and you immediately reach out to the memory board on the wall, pinning up a marriage certificate like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

When you turn around, Bucky is sitting by the edge of the bed just like one week ago, but now sans apprehension of an insecure man.

“We’re married!”

The gleeful tone of your words make him smile right away, pulling you closer with a gentle tug until you’re standing between his legs. Towering over him, your hands cup both of Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp, stubbly cheekbones. Your heart swells in your chest, happiness and love and calmness, because everything about the day really had been simple.

A city hall wedding with Sam, Wanda and Sam’s parents as witnesses, exactly a week after their own second wedding. Very simple and easy, as the decision of marrying each other had been.

“You’re officially a Barnes.” Bucky grins, hands brushing down the back of your thighs. Gentle fingertips under the hem of your dress, he silently urges you to sit on his lap. “Told ya, got me in trouble.”

“You say that as if you didn’t want to marry me.” You scoff playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck as settling down over him. “You can’t fool me. I totally noticed you were nervous back there.”

Not bothering to deny your words, Bucky shrugs. Even though he was nervous, it doesn’t really matter. Wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the quietness of the apartment, all he cares about is you.

A little kiss pressed to your neck.

“Well, you’d be nervous too if you were marryin’ the prettiest girl in the world.”

A laugh and a little kiss pressed to his nose.

“Well, I was nervous marrying the prettiest boy in the world.”

And then—Bucky’s lips are meeting yours in a soft kiss that swallows a sigh, hands steady and gentle around your waist as he dips down to the bed under your body. It feels like you’re both back at the ceremony again, high on your love and completely unaware of everything that isn’t each other. And he kisses you once, twice, three, four times.

Just enough to ground him, to remind him that this is what his life came to.

Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?

Yeah, well. This little shoebox apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

This might be just it.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #avengers #bucky barnes fanfiction #another fic of mine ending with marriage #oh well

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nev3rfound · 5 years

Text

misunderstandings : b.b

brief summary: you and bucky aren’t exactly the closest in the compound, and the fact you’re so lovely to everyone beside him makes him jealous. but, what he isn’t aware of is that you have feelings for him.

word count: 2.2k (i went OFF on this idea, I loved it) requested: yes, by @perellith-chronicles I hope you like it! warnings: literally none. there’s fluff, some angst and downright adorableness

* masterlistin’

* commissions

** permanent taglist **

After everything that had happened, you thought it might’ve changed things. Bucky had returned from Wakanda, a healed man wanting his chance to start over and move forward from the past seventy years of his life he’s been locked out from. Part of moving on was actually allowing himself to open up to his emotions as opposed to shutting them out.

Yet, when Bucky returned he was still cold with you. He wouldn’t say hello, he refused to smile or give you more than a bitter glance when you passed by him. It was still too soon for him to be on missions, so you often found him in the gym training until his knuckles bled. Whenever you tried to help him, he silently rose to his feet and walked off leaving you sat in the gym with an unopened first aid kit.

After all your attempts of trying to open up to Bucky Barnes, you gave up and shut him out. No matter how much it hurt to do it, you knew he’d never feel the same so you’d save yourself the heartache and do it now.

Walking into the kitchen, you wore a bright smile on your face. You were always trying to remain upbeat as if you allowed yourself to fall back into your old ways, there would be no coming back from it.

“Morning.” You happily greet those in the kitchen, not even noticing who is there despite there being three bodies hunched over the counter, each nursing a different form of medicine.

Steve looks up to see Bucky clenching his jaw as he keeps his eyes fixated on the half-empty mug of black coffee. “Morning, Y/n. Got any plans today?” Steve turns around and asks you, smiling to you softly as you let out a small sigh.

“Erm, I think I’m going to go to the bookstore. There’s a new selection available.” You tell him, and hear a small chuckle from Sam as he bites into his toast. “Oh, and you think that’s funny, huh, Wilson?” You remark, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow as he turns, clearly unexpecting to be caught.

He holds his hands up in defence as the toast falls back onto his plate. “I’m just saying, you’re a complete badass and you like to go to a bookstore?” He questions and you simply nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I get why Tony liked you in the first place.” He mutters, and Bucky glances over to Sam coldly wishing he could take back that comment.

“I mean if anyone wants to come feel free. I know there’s a bunch of vinyls, Steve. Oh, and there’s that exhibit on you told me about last week Sam.” Your words fill the air sweetly as the two men nod in agreement to join you.

Steve glances over to Bucky, “You fancy comin’ Buck?” Steve tries to get him back out of his shell, but he’s met with a short look and then over at you, watching as you turn your head away and return to making a drink.

Bucky sighs under his breath, muttering a quiet no.

“Well, how’s two pm Y/n/n?” Sam rises to his feet, leaning against the counter alongside you as he flashes his best smile.

Inside, Bucky pictures him rising to his feet and slamming Sam’s head on the counter for being able to give you a nickname. He knows he won’t ever do that, you’ll always be Y/n, or Y/l/n to him. You’ll remain on a formal level, never something more personal.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you nudge him lightly before nodding and walking out of the room. “See you guys later.” You call out, and once you’re out of sight you stop in the corridor, letting out a heavy sigh to calm your heart rate down.

“Why don’t you talk to her, Buck?” Steve questions, knowing you’re not in an earshot of hearing what he has to say.

Looking up, Bucky weakly shrugs. “Not like she cares to Steve.” Bucky mumbles and hears Steve exhale heavily.

“You know that’s not true, Bucky.” Steve reasons, but is only greeted by Bucky pulling his arms close to his chest and abandons the mug of coffee. “You wouldn’t let her in before, so she gave up.” Steve tells him sternly, causing Bucky to pause in the doorway before turning around.

“What’d you mean, she gave up?” Bucky questions, stepping closer to Steve who motions for Bucky to take his original seat opposite Steve.

“After you came back, we all saw Y/n trying to help you. She wanted to be there for you when no one else was sure. I watched her sit with you, and you merely shut her down or refused to let her in. It was eating her away, not being able to receive a smile from you, Buck.” Steve explains, and Bucky nods along remembering it extremely differently.

“Everythings still hazy from when I first came back.” Bucky explains, knowing it’s not enough of an excuse. “But, I didn’t think she was doing it to help, I thought she was just trying to play the help.”

Steve shakes his head. “She couldn’t wait forever, Bucky. Especially if it meant breaking her heart.” Rising to his feet, Steve leans against the counter. “Just think about it. We’re leaving at 2, feel free to join okay?”

With that, Steve walks out of the room leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts, letting him contemplate his choices.

Standing in the entrance to the compound, you were playing on your phone when you look up to see the two men approaching you. “You guys ready?” You ask politely, closely watching as Steve glances over his shoulder and sighs to himself.

“Yeah,” Steve responds with a hint of sadness in his tone. “let’s go.”

Walking out of the compound, Steve felt his heart drop slightly. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t even get through to his best friend to help. Steve walked alongside you and Sam, smiling and laughing with you both thinking how much this would benefit Bucky. If only he wasn’t so stubborn.

What Steve didn’t know, is that at that moment Bucky was getting ready. He was preparing himself to leave the compound for the first time in months, go to the real world with normal people. He wouldn’t be entering a country filled with animals where he can relax, it was more dangerous.

Taking deep breaths, Bucky forced himself from the edge of his bed as he got changed. Upon catching himself in his mirror, he looked at his beard growing thickly and hummed. “Erm, FRIDAY?” He calls out loud, thinking it’s still a bit confusing.

“Yes, Sargent Barnes?” She responds and Bucky sighs to himself.

“Is Steve still here?” He asks, doubt lacing his voice as FRIDAY responds, informing him just as he suspected.

Bucky turns and walks into the bathroom where he reaches into his cupboard for a razor. He was still adjusting to the new arm and his flesh arm was still shaking when it came to steadiness. “Come on, Barnes.” He mutters to himself as he turns the razor on, moving closer to his reflection as he cleans the edges, seeing a pile of brunette scruff fall into his sink along with the odd droplet of crimson.

As you wander around the bookstore, Steve hovers cautiously around you. “Why’re you hovering like a fly, Steve?” You turn, resting your hands on your hips as you face him.

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but words fail him. “I, well, I just think you look nice today, that’s all.” He comments to you, watching as a smile rises across your face.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Steve.” You turn back around, motioning for him to join you as he stands by your side. “You see, there’s an author who frequently visits this shop. I used to read his novels growing up and well,” You giggle like a schoolgirl to Steve, something he was not expecting. “he’s attractive safe to say.”

A small laugh follows from Steve as he glances back to the door, wishing Bucky could’ve just taken him up on the offer in the first place.

In the compound, Bucky blots the small cuts across his jawline with a heavy sigh. It doesn’t look great, but he’s had worse. “Stupid razor.” He mutters under his breath before exiting the bathroom and finishes getting changed.

His eyes wander over to the clock, seeing he’s already running late to meet everyone, to actually meet and spend time with you.

Shrugging on a jacket, Bucky grabs what he needs before heading out of his room in a rush, not wanting to let Steve down again. And hopefully, to make things up to you after everything that has happened.

Steve finds you curled up in a corner of the store. You’re in a large teal armchair, lost in a book as your eyebrows furrow together in concentration. He leans against the railing to the spiral staircase he just climbed, and you lift your eyes to see him stood there.

“Sorry,” You speak up, lowering the book. “I got a bit lost in the story there.” You chuckle softly, placing the book on your lap as Steve walks over and sits down in the blush pink chair beside yours. “Found any books you like? Or vinyls so far?”

Shaking his head in response, you hum. “Nothing much. There was something I was hoping to see, but I’ve had no luck.” Steve tells you, watching as you sadly nod. “It was worth a try.”

“You never know, it might turn up.” You tell him, oblivious to his true meaning as he rises to his feet.

“I’m going to head for a coffee, do you want one?” You nod to him before he begins to climb down the spiral staircase and heads down the corridor, past the fantasy fiction books when he sees a familiar figure stood still.

Stepping closer, Steve feels his smile rising as the figure turns and wears a nervous grin. “Hey, Steve.” Bucky speaks up quietly, looking around as he keeps his hands buried in his pockets.

Steve moves closer, bringing his best friend into a hug. “I didn’t think you’d come.” He mutters and pulls himself away, looking at the effort he made to clean himself up. “Lookin’ sharp, Barnes.” He pats Bucky’s arm, causing a half-smile to appear on the soldier's face.

Humming a familiar tune to yourself, you walk down the stairs and Bucky catches a glimpse of you before you can see him. His eyes focus on the floor as his breathing becomes silently haltered. “She looks beautiful.” He tells the floor, and Steve smiles to himself. “I, I don’t know if I can do this.”

It feels strange to Steve, seeing Bucky like this. After all, Bucky was the suave, ladies man when they were growing up. No one had confidence like Bucky did, but times have changed and life has shaped him into a different man.

Placing his hand on his shoulder, Bucky looks up to see Steve wearing a gentle smile. “It’ll be fine, Buck. Y/n is a patience woman, just, just talk to her.”

As you turn the corner, your smile falters as you see Bucky stood beside Steve. Slowly, you walk over. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d come?” You ask Bucky cautiously, looking at him and you can see he’s tried to shave.

The longer you look, there are multiple things about him that are different. He’s shaved, but you can see the red dots where he’s nicked himself. He’s wearing an aftershave that you suspect has lived in the packet until today, and he’s gotten properly dressed.

“You look nice.” You tell him sweetly, and Bucky swallows his nerves as he forces himself to smile.

“W,would you like a coffee?” Bucky suggests to you and watches as your expression changes. Shock covers your eyes as you glance up to Steve who gives you an encouraging smile. “I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine. I’ve not exactly been the friendliest face.” Bucky tells you, and you can feel him being genuine about it.

You shift your weight from foot to the other as you remain silent, contemplating your answer. Bucky can feel his eyes darting around, looking from you to the dust growing on the shelves of untouched books. He’s not sure what to do, or what else to say. All he can do is focus on the rapid beating of his heart as you hold it in your hands, having the choice to squeeze the life out of it or put it back.

“Yeah, okay Bucky.” You respond, stepping closer and passing Steve. “Where to?” You look up, linking your arm in his with a small chuckle.

Despite it being a small action, Bucky can feel heat flooding his body. Though it’s his metal arm, and he cannot feel your gentle touch, it’s a comfort. You’re not afraid of it, or how it looks or feels.

“How about that spot you keep tellin’ Tony about?” Bucky can feel his confidence returning and you nod along as he leads you out of the store, leaving Steve to watch on as he finally can see his friend getting the second chance he deserves.

689 notes · View notes

youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Femme: 41

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang

Rating: mature

Length: 4.9k

Warnings: sex, cum denial, mentions of assault, Dom Namjoon.

Announcement: Thank you for waiting patiently, I have been struggling with the internet. Here is the new chapter, I hope you all enjoy. If anything is missing let me know it took me 3 hours to post this from my niece's phone haha

Recap: The boys all found out y/n is having Yoongi’s baby and you all have to learn how to accommodate a little one. You have a magical wedding. You and Yoongi are getting down and dirty when you go into labour. You give birth to a beautiful baby boy named Kyungju. Scary, Fun and Cute times have been had and that’s where we left off.

Yoongi was playing the piano while wearing a papoose. Making exasperated sounds when something didn’t sound right in the song he was writing. Kyungju knew nothing about music but what his father exposed him to. Making a grunting sound whenever the music stopped playing he tried hard to mimic his father's sounds. When he really liked a song or melody he would wiggle and kick his feet squeaking happily and Yoongi continued brainstorming, silently laughing at his son’s cute reactions.

It was the first time Kyungju was without you. Looking at potential daycares for the days one of you weren’t home and seeing as Yoongi works from home and Taehyung and Namjoons jobs were contract-based. Meaning they only worked when there was work for them. This wouldn’t be often.

Yoongi placed the baby in the walker and sat on the floor in front of him taking out a container of puréed peach apple and pear. He tried to feed his son but he refused eyes full of amusement. “Come on Kyungie we aren’t playing it's time to eat”

After another refusal, Yoongi sighed taking a spoonful and trying to entertain his son to no avail. “Look I don’t know what your complaining about its fruit look it’s tasty” he scooped some into his mouth and made exaggerated sounds pausing.

“Man that’s actually really good, if you don’t eat it I will” Yoongi scooped another spoonful into his mouth watching his son leaning forward mouth open making grabbing hands, he laughed feeding him “that’s all it took, you will do it if I do it?”

Yoongi was chatting to Kyungju about his work while feeding him. Kungju’s eyes were growing heavy, dropping adorably. “I don’t see what the big deal is you know, it’s not like it’s a particularly good tune I mean I wrote it on the toilet” he scooped himself some purée before offering another to his son.

Kyungju slowly rolled the purée around his mouth most of it escaping as he slowly laid his head on his arm. Yoongi blinked shocked picking up his son and walking him to the nursery, he played him the music he had written for the infant. Making sure it was a low volume on the sound system. He cleaned his son’s face and hands removing the bib from his chest and laid his boy into the crib.

He switched on the monitor and walked out looking for his phone, spotting the half-eaten jar of purée beside it on the coffee table. He picked up both scooping some of the baby food into his mouth.

You had arrived home early, to see Yoongi enjoying the Jar of baby food. He froze, throwing the spoon into the sink and placing the small jar in the fridge. “No one will believe you” he smirked shutting. “Shit you are right, why didn’t I take a photo, look I won’t tell anyone about you eating the babies food if you go to the shop and buy some more, because that was our last jar”

When your boy woke he didn’t cry. He was babbling in his crib playing with his Woogie. You stepped into the room and watched his eyes light up and the pull of his all gum smile in response. He looked so much like his father. Taking Kyungju to the antenatal clinic he was weighed and measured they asked you questions about his diet and movement.

You walked home pushing the pram, Kyungju dropped his Woogie off the side and a kid in uniform stopped picking it up. “Hey little man you dropped this” he smiled and looked up, you took a sharp breath. It was the same kid the one who had helped you get your purse but also led you down an alleyway where people were waiting to do god knows what.

Your breathing became erratic, freezing up as if one wrong move could hurt your baby. “I’m sorry,” he said and turned away from you, noticing his face was bruised and busted. “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me” He curled up and was hyperventilating more than you, your son turned looking up at you and reached forward to gently pull on the boy's hair.

“Kyungie, no we don’t pull hair” grabbing your son’s hand and untangling it from the reddish locks. Shushing the teen until his breathing evened out “Listen I am not going to hurt you, but, can you tell me about why you did it?” “Everyone has their breaking point, I let them all getaway and had been beaten because of it but everyone has a limit when their fear takes over and they will do anything to keep themselves or their loved ones safe, I am sorry it had to be you”

“What happened to your face?” “It was just a couple hits,” he said and you looked at his face and sighed “it’s not like I can do anything I have no home or family or anyone who cares about me, they all died years ago, when I was starving on the street they told me they would protect men feed me and put a roof over my head but now I can’t escape”

You bit your lip, hooping like hell you wouldn’t regret this, you gave him your number, “look if you need help call me, and use the code word bangtan. Stay safe”

When you arrived at home Yoongi still wasn’t back yet he texted that he took a detour for lamb skewers. Taking the opportunity to film. “Hey, guys so I just got back from Kyungie’s appointment they say he is looking really good. But today I have some exciting news, I am pregnant again I haven’t told the boys yet but I just got back from the doctor and I am sixteen weeks which is four months, I successfully kept this one a secret, though I think Jiminie and Hobi are getting really suspicious, I haven’t had any morning sickness this pregnancy which has been a dream.”

“I also got the results on who the next father is, but I haven’t read it yet I am going to tell them all tonight so I will record it for you and-” you told the camera your plan and began editing the first half of the video so it was almost ready to post.

The boys came home one by one. You had set up multiple cameras around the living room with the remote in your pocket ready to film their reactions. Dinner consisted of jjigae, rice and banchan for the adults, Kyungju had puréed chicken broccoli and pumpkin, he was having more fun spitting it at Jimin than actually eating.

“Come on Kyungie eat your dinner” “I went to the doctor today, Kyungie hasn’t really put on much weight so they want to monitor him a little more but he is growing really well and is in the top seventy-five percent for his age”

“But babies as they get more active and as his diet is changing it will slow down his weight gain we just have to watch he is eating enough. I called Yoongi‘s mother and she said Yoongi was the same and not to worry”

“And the doctor was impressed with my muscles said if I keep following Kookies light workout routine that I should have no troubles at all and she said sex and orgasms are a good work out for pelvic floor muscles so if anyone wants to work out, you know where to find me” “That’s good that you had no issues” Namjoon grinned from across the table, “if anything changes let us know your health is most important to us”

“Did the doctor say anything else?” Hoseok asked and you grinned at him. “He said Kyungie needs his six-month vaccinations but I booked that later this week when Namjoon had his day off, I couldn’t go alone and tomorrow is his first day at daycare and then I am heading off to work so if anyone wants to drop him off with me you can otherwise we will record it if someone is busy and so we can keep it forever”

Seokjin was taking kyungie for a bath after dinner. The two sat in the warm water Jin smiling and playing with the squeaky bath toys that made Kyungie erupt in fits of giggles. Taehyung took him to get him dried and dressed. You told him you had laid clothes out on the changing table in the nursery. You pressed record seeing the red lights on the hidden camera’s switch on.

Taehyung walked him back from the nursery and laughed. “This is funny his suit says big brother on it like he is asking to be a big brother” he showed them the words on the suit.

“Are you pregnant again?” “I knew it Jagiya, Jimin and I have been discussing it for weeks” Hoseok laughed “I thought I hid it well” “We are going to need a bigger house. How far along are you?”

“Kyungie you’re a big brother” Taehyung grinned down at the boy “Who is the father?” Hoseok asked “One at a time, okay I am four months. I got to sixteen weeks without you finding out and it was exhausting but I didn’t get morning sickness this time because I knew how to prevent it better”

“Who is the father?” Namjoon asked quietly. “I don’t know but I have the letter, so who wants to read it first” They all shook their heads and you hummed opening the letter and covered your mouth crying, “Kookie, you’re going to be a daddy” you sniffed and he shot from the chair and wrapped his arms around you crying. He had a wet face and his hands were shaking.

“I love you” his laugh was broken by a sob, “I’m going to be a dad” The boys tackled him and patted his back. “Jaykay, you sly dog” they cheered happily.

You took Kyungju to daycare with your usual walking and Taehyung. The place was run by a lovely group of young men and women, “ah Miss y/n, so this is Kyungju, how are you today? He looks happy” a cute young man with a name tag that said ‘hello my name is Sungmin’. Sungmin grinned scooping up your son from your arms. He tried to keep his voice from sounding winded as he received several strong kicks to the chest by a smiling Kyungju.“He is a strong one”

“Congratulations we saw your announcement video, another baby” Sunny smiled Yoona gave you a quick hug before you had to go to work. You had met the two the day before for all the paperwork and interviews. They assured you they would call if anything seemed odd, you kissed your boy and tried not to cry.

Inshik listened while you spoke about the daycare and your new pregnancy, he comforted you about your son being away from home. You got up to serve a customer but it was Jimin, eventually, all the boys turned up and you stepped out the van, “hello my lovers why are you all here? I’m not giving free ice creams”

“Joon told us to” Hoseok smiles pulling you onto his lap pressing his lips to the back of your neck whilst rubbing your tummy. Namjoon spoke quickly to Inshik who told you that was all for today. Namjoon led you to a company van and after a short drive, you arrived at a lovely building. The group stepping out to greet others.

“Okay, this is a little expensive but it is just a block from Kyungie’s daycares and still close to our workplaces it’s got a huge master bedroom, it’s built as a Femme home, so there are a lot of rooms.

A realtor walked you through and you looked around imagining how you would decorate. “But what about the TXT boys I can’t leave them behind“ “We have so many rooms they could stay over for sleepovers” Taehyung grinned and you debated the costs.

“This is a big and expensive house” your face showed your concerns. “We can do it, we all make a good living and the videos we make online can cover most of our expenses anyways” “Let’s sleep on it”

The channel grew more and more. The boys and their families all put money in to help you buy the house outright and you were so happy moving in. Staying in the huge master bedroom the room was ten meters wide and there were two Super Caesar beds each bed was 3.65 meters wide and could fit four people in each so both beds custom fit together could hold eight people comfortably.

Rolling from one side to the other was a full 7.3 meters and the bathroom was huge as well, there were five bathrooms in the house and the boys had a computer and games room an office and Yoongi’s studio. You all decided to make a room for making videos for your channel.

So the new house had twelve rooms and you were excited some of the boys still used their own rooms when they needed their own space. Otherwise, they all stayed in the master bedroom and left the other rooms for guests.

And not only was their room for guests you had room for pets, so all the boy’s beloved pets moved into the house. Yoongi had taught holly to protect Kyungju so he spent most of his nights on the soft rug in the nursery.

When Kyungju would crawl across the floor after Yeontan and Mickey, Holly would lay on his belly and crawl along beside Kyungju.

Sometimes you would see the Mins sleeping on the studio couch, Kyungju on Yoongi’s chest Woogie in his little fist and holly at Yoongi’s feet.

“Hey everyone it’s been so hectic, as you saw in our house tour video last week, we moved into a new house. It’s May and I am seven months pregnant and extremely exhausted after setting up, so today we are just going to have live mukbang so I can eat and relax and talk about things happening”

“I have a few friends coming over with some, so they should be here any minute” the TXT boys turned up and with bags of food making themselves comfortable in front of the camera. “We got you your favourite foods Noona, hello everyone?” “You look tired Noona are you feeling okay?” “Just tired from moving but this house is so big which is perfect for our growing family”

“Noona look what I am wearing today,'' Yeonjun showed his shirt which you had given them in a PR package, it was your channel merchandise. “You grinned showing him the TXT phone case, which you put on especially for them. Eating and talking, Soobin whose hands were full bouncing Kyungju to sleep was being fed by Beomgyu and Yeonjun.

Your son woke after all the food was demolished so you ended the live, fed and changed him, giving him to Taehyun who was super playful. Your phone rang, there was no caller ID.

“Hello?” Someone was sobbing into the other end and you felt your body tense, who was this. “hello?” “Bangtan,” the voice said “please Bangtan” “Okay stay on the phone are you safe?” “No they are outside the door they are going to bust it down”

You took Soobin’s phone off the table and called Namjoon, he didn’t answer. You lied through your teeth, “help is coming” “Hurry please” “Hang in there we will be there soon tell me where you are?” He gave you an address “can you put something in front of the door a dresser or a bed or something”

You told the boys to take care of Kyungju for a few minutes and you took a cab across town and threw the driver some cash and told him to stay and keep the car running. You left the door open much to the driver’s dismay.

You wondered if this was the place, your suspicions confirmed by the shouting from inside, you called him. “I am here are you near a window” you saw his head poke out and you frowned he was on the second floor. You hummed sneaking across the lawn and he started climbing out. You could hear the men breaking down the door he jumped. You heard a sickening crunch and he slapped a hand over his face muffling his scream. The door wouldn’t hold much longer and they would know he had escaped. With all the strength of a mother saving an endangered Child you picked him up and moved quickly to the taxi, you placed him in.

“Take us to the hospital” you got their helping him limp to the emergency room. Phone ringing, it was Namjoon. They had arrested the men for possession of weapons and drugs. One of them had videos on their phone of them assaulting people including the young boy with you.

He had been in surgery for severe internal bleeding and to set his leg and his leg was wrapped in a cast, “what do I do now, I have no home, no money, nothing?” He woke delusional sobbing quietly his split lip reopening. He couldn’t cry well since his eyes were swollen and his broken nose made it hard to breathe.

Namjoon arrived and the TXT boys informed you Seokjin and Jungkook had returned home and we’re looking after Kyungjuf. Thanking them profusely you got the all clear that you and the baby were healthy, and was told not to enter dangerous or stressful situations.

Namjoon spoke with the young boy, “Hello, my name is detective Kim, I want to ask you some questions, is that okay?”The boy nodded “can you tell me your name and how old you are?”

“Nam Yoon-do but people call me Eric,” he said shuffling on the bed. “I am sixteen”

Namjoon finished his questions with the boy each answer pulled at your heartstrings, homeless and an orphan at the age of nine he did what he could to survive. Your genius husband headed over fixing you a cold stare, shutting the curtain. “Why is my pregnant wife going alone to the home of a gang, they are criminals, the lowest of the low”

“He called me and he said the code word for help. I couldn’t sit around and you didn’t answer your phone. He was begging for help as they tried to break down his door. I couldn’t listen to those sounds, I had to do something, I may be pregnant but I am good at hiding. If I went back in time I would do it again in a heartbeat, it’s over now he is safe and that’s all that matters”

“Yeah he is lucky to be alive, they did quite a number on him,” Namjoon said “Can he stay with us?” You asked and Namjoon blanched, he told you it wasn’t a good idea giving you some very good reasons why he shouldn’t. Almost convinced and yet one look at the sad young boy and you had made your mind up.

Namjoon saw the determination in your eyes and gave a small laugh, “you are my wife and if this is your decision then I will stand by you just know that our family comes first and we should all have a say”

“He is the same age as the TXT boys he has had a bad life” you argued calmly trying to keep your voice down. “And he only knows how to do bad things” Namjoon hissed “this is delicate we don’t know what he might do”

“Give him a chance to be good, we don’t know what he will do if we don’t give him the chance” His lips moulding against yours his hands grasping and bunching the fabric of your skirt. Grabbing your shoulders he turned you. Catching your hands on the hospital mattress you had previously been resting on.

He threw his suit jacket onto the bed beside your hands. You heard the stretch of leather, the metal clack of his belt, and the sweet erotic sound of his zip. You were wet with anticipation, he reached between your legs brushing two fingertips against your clothed clit.

Hands tightening in the sheets, Namjoon traced a line down your heat and groaned. He pulled down your underwear, the shuffle of fabric the only sound before you felt him, thick against your thigh.

He ran the head of his cock against your entrance. The ache for him was so bad. grinding back against him, he held your hips firm. And pressed the tip into your pussy, he didn’t go all the way in teasing you.

You pleaded under your breath and he closed his eyes moaning at your begging. Unable to take anymore he pulled your hips towards him sinking into your wet folds. You lifted your head up gasping.

He snapped his hips into you, his grasp on your hips was so he could pull you back to meet every thrust. You were so close muffling your sounds with his suit jacket. He came hard inside you a bloom of warmth filling your lower stomach his dick twitching as he released.

“You did something dangerous today and could have gotten hurt, you need to learn how that would affect us all as a family. So you are being punished, you are not allowed to cum for one whole week and I will be telling the other boys this too” he pulled your underwear up, turning you to face him.

He brushed his knuckles along your cheek, “you don’t know how it feels knowing you could be hurt. I work a dangerous job and there is a chance I won’t come home, what if I was beaten or even killed, how would you feel? That isn’t even half of what we might feel if something happened to you”

“I will accept this punishment because I know exactly how you would feel but please think about this. That boy has no one who will feel this if something happens to him. What if this was your son? What if we all died and kyungie was left alone? I would want a nice family to take him in rather than my poor boy be on the street”

“Why do you always have such compelling arguments?” He lowered his forehead onto your shoulder and you fixed his suit “look my parents have a spare bedroom now that all the children left home and they are much more mature and stable than us. They can give him all the attention he deserves while we are focused on the babies. Not to mention they would love another son, my father has been pretty lonely since us boys have moved out”

“He would really like that wouldn’t he” you remembered fondly Namjoon’s father absolutely adoring your husbands and trying to invite them to go camping or fishing. Yoongi seemed really interested in the latter and even convinced Seokjin and Jungkook to go when the weather got warm. Needless to say, the older gentleman had been calling and messaging every weekend with updates and packing tips and fun facts about how to be a better fisherman.

“Eric?” You called walking on shaky legs across the room. He looked up in response to his name and you felt the pang of guilt in your chest for letting him go when you saw the first bruises, why hadn’t you helped him that day. It wouldn’t have come to this.

Taking his hand in yours “forgive me, I shouldn’t have let you go back the day I saw the bruises, this is all my fault I could have prevented this” “Noona it’s not your fault, I wouldn’t expect you to help after what I did?”

“I have to go, you stay here, okay everything will be fine and I will pay the bill okay, just rest”

It was a long week the boys hadn’t let you orgasm as Namjoon requested each one silently furious that you could be so reckless. You were frustrated but you loved each of them so much you were satisfied when they were satisfied.

Eric was finally able to see properly his swollen and purple toned bruises had faded to a dark green yellow and he was looking more like his handsome self. “Where did you get this?” “Yeonjun and Kai and those group of boys you are friends with all brought me my homework a few days ago”

“Do you need any help?” “Can you help me with English?” He looked up nervous, nodding you sat on the end of his bed taking the textbook and skimming the pages. It was about hobbies and adjective orders. You decided to start small and introduce yourselves hoping he could gain confidence.

“Hello my name is y/n“ “Hello my name is Eric” “How old are you Eric?” “I am sixteen” “What do you like?” “I like… uh how you say food place and uh red colour and look seeing uh town” “You like restaurants and the colour red and you like going and looking around town?” “Ah I like going new place” “Oh going to new places, how about a new home?”

He was processing the words slowly and seemed confused dropping a ‘sorry I don’t understand’. You smiled he looked so confused. “I found you a home, I wanted to know if you would like to stay with my father in law?”

“I don’t know this one sorry” he blushed “That’s okay I can ask you in Korean. My father in law owns a big house and he wanted to know if you would like to stay in one of the spare rooms”

He pencil paused on the page and he looked up with hopeful eyes, then seemed to crush it down trying to look indifferent looking back at his page working quietly.“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“My parents in law, they met you would have already added you to the family. They are a lovely couple and they live close to your school. I won’t let you leave here alone again. I’m sorry but the only choice you have right now is what colour you want your bedroom, he texted me this morning”

Handing over the phone he began reading the message, “what colour does he like, I can’t paint the room before he arrives, is he allergic to anything. If he is unsure we can pick out colours and bedding when he arrives. Does he need anything, school books, uniform or bag?”

Eric stopped reading and looked up at you, “I don’t know if I am okay with that?” “Well he wanted to meet you today is that okay?” “Uh sure” his smile was small and you wanted to squeeze him to your chest and protect him. Reaching out to tousle his unruly hair feeling extremely maternal. You heard a familiar voice from outside.

“Good morning, my lady I was looking for a mister Nam Yoon-Do” you both looked at each other and you smiled. “Can you tell me if he is allowed some snacks from outside the hospital?” “Of course sir he has no restrictions to his diet and no allergies, I will just see if he is ready for more visitors” The nurse poked her head into the room and confirmed he was expecting someone.

“Ah hello you must be the young man Mister Nam Yoon-do, Can I call you Yoon-do or do you prefer Yoonie” “Yes sir, please call me Eric” He looked at his hands and you felt your heart constrict, rubbing his back and smiled. “Eric are you hungry, the lunch trolley is late again today, how about we eat something together, there looks like a lot of food”

“Ah yes, the wife made this for us to enjoy,” He smiled “we are excited to have you if you want to live with us that is, we got some rooms and you just let us know what you like to eat. And you can have the computer room to play all those games the kids are talking about and if you like fishing we could go out and…”

Walking home you walked past Kyungju’s Daycare picking him up, the staff there loved him and you were glad he was able to make a few little friends he could grow up alongside. You were picking up his bag when you saw Seokjin waiting for you outside. “Hello Daddy what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to take you on a date if that’s okay with you, we will both have to change and leave Kyungie at home with the others but then we can head on our way”

Femme Media 41

Next chapter

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67 notes · View notes

flambazz · 3 years

Text

You and I

Author: Balsam

OC pairing, M x F pair, Human x Non-Human

TW: Angels

The evening sun shone brightly against Cassie’s hair, which was shading the sleeping teen next to her. She smiled quietly, running a pale hand through the boy’s ginger hair. With the sun starting to go down and the air getting colder, Cassie carried the boy to his old weathered treehouse and covered him with one of the blankets she found there on the floor, even though he didn’t need one with all the layers he had on. She ran a thin finger down one of the many scars he had on him. Cassie could still remember the day when Will got that scar, and how afterwards he had asked for a friend to play with. Someone to help him not be as lonely and to protect him. And how her dad told her about this boy, about his unfortunate situation, and that she could help him by going down and playing with little Will. She remembered every time Will had asked to go play at her house, to play with her brothers and sisters and all her animals, and how she had to turn him down with the promise of a big sleepover on her birthday. Of course, her birthday and sleepover never came, but it never seemed to bother Will. He always just smiled and invited her to play with him, to have sleepovers or come to birthday parties with him and his family. No matter what, they were happy when they were together. And that’s what mattered to Cassie; that’s what always has and always will.

She didn’t sit in the tree house for long, though, before Will’s mum called up to them in her sweet and song-like voice that she had made warm food, that they should come inside before they get sick. Cassie nodded down to his mum, then went to wake up Will. Shaking his shoulder lightly, she quietly called to him. “Will, wake up Will. Ma made us some food and I’m hungry.”

Other than the rustle of the blanket from him turning over, Will didn’t respond.

Cassie called again, a little louder this time. “This isn’t funny Will, wake up. You don’t want your Ma to be upset, do you?”

Will cracked open his eyes to look annoyedly at his friend sitting next to him, though he couldn’t hide his smile if he tried. “Alright, I’m up. Jeez you act like it’s the end of the world if I don’t wake up or something. What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s.. it’s uh…” Cassie looked at the shadows, then towards the sun, then back to the shadows. “It’s five-thirty-ish, I think. Your Ma made us some food.”

“O.K. then. We probably should go in. I’m hungry.”

Cassie smiled, and Will smiled back. And with all the seriousness of a Golden Retriever playing frisbee, Cassie leaned in and quietly said, “Race you down, Shorty.” With that, she started running down the ladder of the old tree house and reached the ground only to have Will jump out of the tree house and land on the ground in front of her, giggling like a maniac. The two of them rushed inside for dinner, happy. Almost, anyway. Cassie still had to tell Will the news that she was leaving for a while. She didn’t want to break her friend’s heart; she grew up with him after all, she was his only friend for his whole life. But now at she had to leave him. And in her heart she already could see the pain that Will would be in when she said what she needed to say. Maybe she could lie to him, just a little? Make the process softer on him so he wasn’t as upset. Cassie seemed so stuck in her head that Will started getting concerned for her.

“Hey, Cassie? You doing O.K.? You seem pretty upset over something.”

Cassie snapped back to reality to find that she was the only one with food still left in front of her. “Huh? Oh… yeah I’m alright. I’ll tell you later though.”

Will raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and got up to go fix his room, giving Cassie a hug on his way past and ruffling her hair.

Cassie sighed and put her head in her hands. Today had been too much for her; with the news that Will had been accepted to his new school, the movie they had watched. And now she would have to tell her best friend of eleven years that she has to go away for a while. She got up to give her plate to Ma, who gave her a worried look .

“What’s eating at ya, sweetie? You’ve been like this for a few hours now.”

“Could I be completely honest with you, Ma’am?”

Ma smiled sweetly. “‘Course you can. Is there some boy trouble going on?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that, well, I’m going away for probably a long time. I might not even be back. I suppose it’s just that I’ve no idea how to tell Will. We’ve known each other for eleven years, imagine how crushed he’ll be.”

“May I ask where you’re off to, sweetheart?”

“I’m going home.”

Ma nodded and stopped washing the dish she was holding. Cassie brought her out into the backyard and handed her leather jacket to Ma. She carefully undid the harness holding down her wings and set that on the ground, stretching her golden wings out as far as she could. It was hard for her to even open them, having them pressed down for so long against her back.

Ma, in her typical fashion, simply smiled at Cassie. “Do they hurt much?”

“Yeah, a lot actually.”

“Wait here for a spell, O.K.? I’ll be right back with something that might help.” Before Cassie could say anything, Ma was back in the house.

Cassie smiled and slowly flapped her wings with no intent of flying. She was slowly getting some strength back to them, although moving them did hurt quite a bit. Maybe she could try something with Will though. Carefully, she looked through her feathers for one that wasn’t damaged, dirty, broken, or a baby feather. When she had found the perfect feather, she grabbed the base near her skin and pulled it out with a sharp tug. It hurt, sure, but not as much as she had thought it would. She silently put it in under her dress’s belt, being careful to keep it intact.

The kitchen door opened suddenly, with Ma coming outside holding a bucket of hot water and some self-care tools. “I brought you some things so you can heal those up faster. For your trip home.”

“Thank you so much, for everything you’ve done. And although I wish I could stay, I don’t think that I can.” Cassie picked up one of the tools and started to pull out some of her damaged or broken feathers. “Would it be too much, do you think, if I asked you for one more favor before I leave here?”

“No, nothing you’ve ever asked is too much. What do you need?”

“Could you, um… could you bring Will out?” Ma nodded, setting down the things she brought with her to go find her son. Cassie sighed and took the feather from her belt. She started to clean it up a little, although nothing really needed to be done to it.

The soft voice of her friend could be heard from the kitchen door, “Cassie? That’s you, right? Since when do you have wings?!”

“Yeah, it’s me Will. Please calm down. I don’t know if your Ma told you anything or not, but um… I’m leaving.”

“Where are you even going?” Tears swelled, falling down his cheeks and staining his jacket.

In an attempt to stop Will’s crying, she tried bringing up a good memory to justify this sudden disappearance. “Do you remember how as little kids you wanted to come over to my house for a sleepover on my birthday? I’m going up to ask my dad if we can.” Cassie could see her friend start shaking. Not a lot, but it was definitely noticeable. And it broke her heart.

“But... you’ll be back! You’ll be back, right?... Right? You aren’t just gonna leave me here alone?” Will’s voice had started to waiver and crack, and his shaking got worse with every second passing by.

“Yeah…” Cassie started tearing up. “Yeah, I’ll be back. I wouldn’t just abandon you, Shorty, ever.” Will’s little chuckle made Cassie smile, even though she knew it was stressed. “And I’ve got something for you. So I can find you when I come back.” She held out the perfect golden feather to her friend, who took it gently and looked it over.

“This is yours? How will you find it again?”

“You’ll have to trust me about that, Will. I have to go now though.” Cassie walked up to her friend and gave him a hug. The kind you would give to a child after they had a nightmare. That’s what this was, after all, wasn’t it?

When Will pulled back and looked away from the hug, all that was left of Cassie was her jacket and the beautiful golden feather he was holding gently in his hand. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, to ask why his best and only friend had to leave, to ask when or if she would be back. He wanted to with all his heart, but he couldn’t. All he could manage was to slip onto the ground. She had promised him she would find him again. Find the feather and him along with it, and take him with her. His mum sighed and went inside to make her son some warm drink to calm him down.

Over the next few years, Will reacted to this loss about as well as would be expected. Every time he passed The Hideout and smelled the coffee coming from inside, he remembered taking Cassie there after she asked him what coffee was and if it was good. When he walked by Davey’s Park he got memories of the two of them playing in the creek, catching frogs or building stick castles.

He got older; seventeen, twenty, thirty-three, forty-eight… still no Cassie. Could she have lied to him? Will shook his head and ran the tip of the now damaged golden feather through his fingers gently. Cassie had never lied to him in the time they knew each other, so why would the last thing she said to him be one? After nearly seventy years, he was surprised he could even remember Cassie. But there she was, stuck in his head so deep that if you asked him to he could probably draw her perfectly and accurately. He could hear the heart monitor slow it’s beeping, then stop.

From the hospital room door came the nurse with the news of his wife’s passing. “We truly did do everything to make her comfortable in her last moments, sir,” said the nurse.

“I understand, and she is probably happier now in any case.” He sighed and ran an old hand through his now grey hair and put the golden feather in his pocket so the nurses wouldn’t find it.

“We ought to get you back to your room now, sir.”

Will nodded and stood up to slowly make his way back to room 707. For hours after, he sat in his bed staring at the ceiling and listening to people talk in the halls. Evening came with a visitation period in tow, and instead of having nobody show up, there was a familiar voice in the hall.

“...unlock the door for me please, nurse. He’s my friend and I hold the right to visit him here.”

That was unmistakably Cassie’s voice he heard. She finally came back for him.

Cassie poked her head through the door before entering the room. “Hey there, Shorty.” She walked up to the hospital bed with silence.

A child-like smile broke across Will’s face. “Cassie, you haven’t aged a day.” Will reached out his hand.

Cassie chuckled and took it, her hand warm in his, sweeping a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “You’ve aged quite a bit of them. I wasn’t even gone that long, you know.”

“Sure felt like it. Most of my life in fact. I’m glad you found me though.”

“Me too, Shorty. Me too.” Cassie smiled and held Will’s old hand in hers which was still as it was when she had left. She slipped the old, broken, dirty feather and blew on it gently to remove the dirt. She pulled out one of her hairs and tied it first around the base of the feather, then tied the other side to Will’s wrist. “Ready to go?” Will smiled and nodded. Cassie closed her eyes and kissed his forehead, opening her eyes to the pair of them being somewhere very different. Instead of a dingy hospital room they were in they stood a field with lots of flowers of different colors, and a house that sat on a hill in the distance. Will looked about the same as when they were sixteen again, with of course the addition of a big pair of auburn wings.

“So then this is where you live.” Will’s eyes were like a baby’s, staring off around him. He went to rub his shoulder, but his hand bumped into one of his wings. He opened it as far as he could while also trying not to hit Cassie’s wings, then opened the other wing, catching the wind and falling over. Cassie and Will giggled, and she put down her hand to help him up. A smile broke out across Will’s face. Finally, after all this time, it was like they were younger. Like when everything was perfect again. And this time, nothing was going to change. “So I just have one more question for you though. You gave me that feather and said it would help you find me. Does it work like a tracker does?”

Cassie shook her head. “No, silly. I love you and always have. You were always there for me and I was always there for you. And it’s pretty clear to me at least that the feeling was mutual, since you not only kept my feather but you waited for me. You remembered me. And we were meant to be a ‘forever’ thing, not a ‘until death do us part’ thing. That’s how I found you. The feather was to help you remember your end of my promise.” The two smiled like the kids they forever were and Cassie leaned in and quietly said, “Race you, Shorty.” And the two of them took off flying at breakneck speed to the house in the distance to make due on a promise.

#writing #fiction #tw angels #oc #original story #original work #m x f #oc x oc #original writing #flambazz

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter Two

Warnings: brief mention of child loss, depression, PTSD

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light (I told you I’d give you more soft Tyler), @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

They work silently and diligently side by side; tearing up the wood planks of the old back deck in preparation for the new one they plan to build. Tyler had opted to take the first three days off after arriving home; no new or existing clients until he had a least seventy hours to spend with his family and to get all the shit done (or at least started) that he’d been putting off for months. The kid -he still calls him that, always having to remind himself that he is in fact, just shy of being a grown man- has been a huge help over the years: always stepping up to the plate when it came to learning new skills, helping Esme with the kids, being the ‘man of the house’ when Tyler was away and keeping an eye on not only the house but his wife and his children. He’s matured: taller, a slim yet strong athletic build, his voice much better. Yet there were times where Tyler still caught a glimpse of someone much younger; that terrified kid he’d been hired to extract, the one he’d had to give a fresh pair of pants to because he’d wet his own, the one who’d clung to him on Gaspar’s steps, sobbing that he wanted to go home.

The trauma had set him back a little. Maturity wise. And he still struggled with PTSD, depression, and severe anxiety. Being in a loving and stable home was helping that. He had responsibilities and priorities there; working hard at reno projects or with the animals and in the gardens. He was treated like he was one of their own; disciplined when he needed to be, expected to pitch in when needed. It had been a struggle at first: his own father had been non existent and an army of servants and other hired help had catered to his every need. He’d never known what it was like to have chores. The feeling of satisfaction it gave when a job was completed and you were given money for it. He’d rebelled at first; mouthy, rude, aggressive. But with the tough love he’d snapped out of it and calmed down.

His moods have settled over the past two years since his mental health diagnosis; mostly due to a host of meds, some of it attributed to a less stressful and more relaxed environment. He is a good kid. A damn good kid in fact. One that was well on his way to becoming a great man.

“Hot today,” Ovi says, as he uses the front of his t-shirt to wipe his brow.

It is mid June and the sun is high and bright in the sky. Hot for a standard summer in Colorado, especially so close to the mountains. But a far cry from the sweltering temperatures and suffocating heat and humidity that Ovi had spent more than half his young life growing up in.

“You’d think you’d be used to. You used to live in a lot worse,” Tyler remarks, as he tosses one of the rotted and weathered planks onto their quickly growing pile. Sweat gathers at his temples and beads on his forehead, and he pushes his baseball cap up and uses his own tank top to clear the perspiration off his brow.

“It never felt this hot there,” Ovi says, as he grabs a bottle of water from the cooler they’d brought out with them. “At least I don’t remember feeling this hot.”

“Probably because you were inside all the time. You didn’t have to do things like this. You could stay inside in the air conditioning all day, playing video games.”

“What did you use to do? When you were my age? Other than wrestle dinosaurs and drag women back to your cave?”

Tyler smirks. “You and Esme just think you’re so funny, don’t you. I turn forty and all the old timer jokes start. I see how it is.”

“I could have made it worse by mentioning all the gray hair that you’re getting,” the kid teases.

“Mate, all these gray hairs have my wife’s name written on them. Believe me.”

Ovi hopes up onto the edge of the deck, sipping his water while swinging those long legs back and forth. “Seriously though, what were you doing when you were my age?”

“I was already in the army. On my first tour in Kuwait.”

“That’s awful young to go to war. You were just a kid.”

“So were you,” Tyler reminds him. “When you fought your own war. I chose to be there. To make it my life. You were a lot younger than I was and you didn’t ask to put in the situation you were in.”

“I suppose…” his voice trails off. And he absentmindedly picks at the label on the bottle in his hands as he watches the kids as they chased each other through the grass; giggling and shrieking with no cares in the world.

“One day you’ll have some of your own,” Tyler says, as he helps himself to a beer in the cooler.

Old habits die hard; he’d gotten back into the booze when they’d gotten home from their second bullshit visit to Dhaka. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before; he kept things in moderation and was able to cut himself off it he felt like things were becoming problematic. He no longer had a reason to drown himself in a mix of alcohol and pain killers. The demons he battled weren’t as prevalent anymore; he was able to shove them back down into hell where they belonged.

“Think so?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Kids love you. You’re great with them. You’d be a good dad.”

His entire face brightens; an enormous grin spreading from ear to ear. “Do you think you’re a good dad?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits, and leans back against what remains of the deck. “I know the first time around I was a pretty horrible one.”

He didn’t think about it as often now. He remembers the days when the guilt plagued him; eating away to his core, burrowing through to his very soul. How he’d been struggling with the faded memories of his son until he’d nearly died on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It had felt as if Austin had been right there with him. The sound of his laugh and his face as clear as day. He often wondered if it was because he’d been so close to death; right on the doorstep of seeing his son again. Now he only thought of him on special days; the anniversary of his death, birthdays, Christmas. And it wasn’t with an overwhelming sense of grief. But a bittersweet recollection of the good times they did have in his short six years.

His kids knew about their half brother; how their dad had been married before their mom and had had a baby. And he had told them -as best as they could comprehend at their tender ages- just what had happened to him: he got very sick and was in the hospital and the doctors couldn’t do anything for him. The twins had been confused; not fully understanding the concept of death. But Millie had been curious and asked a lot of questions. Even now she’d randomly come up with something. Wondering what he’d look like now and if any of them looked like him. If maybe she could go and visit him someday. She understood that he wasn’t an actual physical being any more. And in her mind he was in heaven where he was perfect and beautiful and healthy again. But could they go and visit where he was sleeping?

It was the first time that he had ever cried in front of his daughter. Reduced to tears by the sheer innocence and beauty of her request. And because he had absolutely no idea where Austin was. His ex wife had made sure of that. Her way of punishing him for his shitty, selfish choices.

“If I was a little kid and you were my father, I’d think you were a great dad,” Ovi remarks. “Your kids don’t have a reason to be scared of you. You don’t ever really yell at them, you don’t hit them. They know that they can trust you and that you can fix all their problems. They know they won’t ever have to afraid of coming to you and telling you things.”

The words hit home. Ovi wasn’t just speaking about his own father’s downfalls, but Tyler’s father’s as well. While Mahajan Senior was still rotting away in prison, Tyler’s dad was still back in Australia, as bitter and miserable as ever, and refusing to return any of his son’s phone calls.

“And most of all,” Ovi continues. “They see how you treat their mother. They see that you love her. That you don’t mistreat her. That you respect her. That’s important too. That they see their mother being treated well.”

“Well, she’s a queen,” Tyler reasons. “And she deserves to be treated like one. She’s done a lot for me. Since the first day we met. Putting her own ass on the line to help me. Then giving up her life and moving to Australia. I doubt it was the life she had planned for herself. Meeting some random bloke on the job and giving everything up for him. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I know that. I may not always be the best friend and man for her, but she still sticks around. And she’s given me four amazing children. I wouldn’t give her or them up for anything in the world.”

It’s the first time he’s been that honest with anyone, outside of his wife, about the way he feels about her. About them. About the life they have together. He usually keeps that kind of stuff closely guarded; always wanting to keep his private life just that. Private. But if he’s learned anything in the past five years, it was that life was too damn short to keep anything back. Because everything could be taken away from you in the blink of an eyes and you’d spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn’t say the things that so desperately needed to be said.

“I hope one day I find that,” Ovi says. “Someone that I love that much. Someone that loves me just the same.”

“You’ve got a lot of time left for that, mate. You still have a lot of living left to do before any of that should cross your mind.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence; sipping their drinks and watching as all three kids try to climb into the hammock strung between two trees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ovi asks. “It’s kind of personal.”

“How personal?”

“It’s about girls. And sex.”

He’s honestly surprised that it’s taken this long for a conversation like that to come up. Not for a lack of trying on his part; he was always trying to get Ovi to open up about the girls he was dating and whether or not he’d had any sexual experience under his belt. And if he did, was he being careful about things? But Ovi would always get embarrassed and change the subject. Another sign of the maturity issues he struggled with, Tyler supposed.

“What about them?”

“When you first had sex, were you in love with the person?”

“I thought I was. But no mate, I wasn’t in love them. Not if I judge by what I know love is now.”

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“That’s pretty young. Do you regret it? Being that young?”

“I’ve honestly never thought about it. Why? Where’s all this coming from?”

“I’ve been thinking it a lot lately. About wanting to meet someone I love. Someone that I can give myself to in that way.”

“So you’ve never…you know…”

“No!” he exclaims. “Never! I’ve always wanted to be special. With someone special.” He frowns. “Why? Do you think that’s weird?”

“Nah, I don’t find that weird, mate. I find it pretty damn honourable, actually.”

His eyes widen. “You do?”

“It’s a personal thing, yeah? What we do, who we do it with, when we do it. Most guys would have long ago coughed up their V card. Just giving it to the first girl that showed even the remotest bit of interested. I think it’s admirable. That you feel the way you do. And that you’re able to stick with it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. One day you’ll find the right girl. And you’ll know pretty quick that she’s the one you want to be with and experience that with.”

“Like you and Esme?”

Tyler laughs. “Let’s not kid ourselves. It wasn’t one of those love at first sight bullshit stories you hear about. Lust at first sight, absolutely. But love? No. It took a while for that to happen.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A few months maybe. She was already pregnant when it happened. One day I just looked at her and she just looked so beautiful with my baby growing inside of her and I knew I felt it. I knew there and then that I was in love with her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Sometimes I think she thinks I only asked her to marry me because she was pregnant and I felt obligated to do it. But that wasn’t the case. I wanted to marry her because I loved her. No other reason.”

He had felt something before then. The inklings of love perhaps. The beginning of the journey of falling in love with someone. He had known he wanted something more than just a sexual relationship; they had chemistry, a bond unlike he’d ever shared before with a woman. And he’d been looking forward to exploring that when Ovi’s extraction was over and they got back from Dhaka. That had been their plan; spend two months travelling together and getting to know one another.

But sometimes life works in mysterious way.

“If someone had have told you five or six years ago that this is how your life would be, would you have believed them?” Ovi inquires.

“Honestly?” he laughs. “I would have told them they were fucking crazy. I never planned on being a husband again. Or having more kids. I thought it was a one and done for me.”

“But you’re glad right? That your life turned out the way it did in the end.”

He smiles as he watches his kids. All three of them now cuddled up together in the hammock, pointing up at the clouds and talking about what animal or shape they thought they were.

“Not just glad, mate,” he says. “Fucking ecstatic.”

****

He sits on the front porch swing watching the sunset; the streaks of vivid pink and orange that paint the sky. His hands behind his head, one foot moving the seat at a slow, even pace. Listening to the chirping of crickets and the croaking of toads and the other various sounds of wildlife waking from their daytime slumber. It’s a peace and a contentment that he’s never known before; being able to take the time and just sit back and listen and observe what most people take for granted. He’s tired; weary to the bone. A mixture of the two week shitshow that is now thankfully behind him and the work that he and Ovi had put in during the day.

He aches; the lingering issues brought on by years of injuries, his freshly cracked ribs, and the touch of sunburn that he sports. He’s glad to be home. Grateful that he’s lived long enough to see this kind of view again. To be able to tuck his kids in bed and kiss them goodnight. To be able to just stand beside his wife while washing dishes and talk about random bullshit. There was no need to talk about the job; he preferred to leave it behind him once he stepped back in the door and she preferred to stay oblivious to just what kind of danger he was putting himself in. She knew of course. How could she not? She had been in the game herself once. But it was easier for her to cope if it was simply out of sight, out of mind.

The front door creaks open and he glances, smiling at his wife as she steps out onto the porch in her bare feet. A mug of a steaming hot beverage in each hand and a faded and worn flannel blanket tucked under her arm. She looks beautiful; no make up on those smooth, youthful features, her hair tossed up into a messy bun, wearing a pair of sweat pants and one of his shirts. Every day he falls more in love with her. Seeing the way she adores and nurtures the children they’ve made together, the respect and love that she shows towards Ovi, that way she just carries herself with a quiet dignity and grace, even if she may be falling apart inside.

“What’cha doing?” she asks, as she hands him a mug of black of coffee and sets her own drink -a honey and ginger tea- on the ground.

This is their ‘thing’. For five years they’ve spent nearly every night -when he’s home and weather permitting- out there on the swing. It was their time together; outside of sex. When the kids were in bed and the world was falling asleep and they got to relax together. Rediscover all those little things that made them tick and had them falling in love with one another in the first place.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just sitting. Waiting for you.”

She settles down beside him; turning her body towards him and tucking her legs into her core, covering her bare feet with the blanket and then reaching for her drink.

He wraps an arm around her and she scoots a little closer; so her head rests against his shoulder. “Coffee?” he asks with a grin. “Are you trying to keep me up all night?”

“Why would I ever do that?” she counters, and they both laugh. “This is how I seduce you now. There’s no more sexy underwear or dirty talk. It’s a cup of coffee sending you the message that I expect you not to fall asleep after round one.”

He snorts. “When have I ever fallen asleep after round one? You must have me mistaken for your other husband.”

“Awww yes,” she grins. “The rich one that comes over when you’re out of town.”

“What’s he like? Nice enough guy? Big? Could I take him?”

“You absolutely could kick his ass. No doubt about it,” she sips her tea, relaxing under the sensation of his fingertips and thumb softly gliding across her upper arm. “What were you thinking about?”

“Kicking your other husband’s ass.”

“Don’t be jealous, baby. He can’t do the things you do. I’m only with him for the money.”

“I’d like to know where some of this money is, then. Because we need a new roof and a I need a new truck.”

“Money never came through? From the job?” It happens sometimes. You do all the heavy lifting and you get royally fucked in the end. Mahajan Senior wasn’t the first time it happened. And it won’t be the last.

“Definitely won’t be the pay day that Nik promised it would be. But anything is better than nothing, I suppose.”

Financially speaking, they aren’t hurting. They are careful with their money and now that some of Mahajan’s assets had been unfrozen, he’d been sending them some pretty hefty checks in exchange for taking care of his boy. Child support, in a way.

“What happened?” she asks. “It was only supposed to be four days.”

“I’m surprised you want to talk about it. I thought you liked me to leave it on the porch when I got home.”

“Just curious, I guess. I suppose I feel like I have the right to know why Nik keeps sending my husband to these godforsaken shit holes.”

“In all fairness, I’m the one that picks which godforsaken shitholes to go to. She’s just the one that lets on that things are going to be easier than they are.”

“So what did happen?”

“Just a whole bunch of little fuck ups that when added together just made one big fuck up. Problems with the radios, issues with communication on both sides, a lot more hostiles that anyone thought there’d be, a mix up on where the extraction site was supposed to be. Just a regular old shit show. But it got done. Eventually.”

She nods, sipping at her tea. She remembers those days all too well.

“But it’s done. It’s over. I’m home now and that’s all that matters.”

“How long is it for? How long do we actually get you here for?”

“I call the shots, remember. I don’t have to take every job she brings my way. Hopefully she gives it a couple weeks before she’s ringing me or knocking on the door.”

“I hope so, too. Because I really need you to fix the toilet in the basement.”

He grins. “So that’s all you need, huh? You need me to lay a little pipe.”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs. “And don’t sell yourself short. In your case, it is way more than a little pipe.”

“You’ve always been very good for my ego,” he says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Hey, I call them as I see them.”

“Kids asleep?”

“Finally. Those little shits. What is wrong with your children? Why do they have to be the way they are?” She’s teasing; saying it with the utmost love in her voice and sparkling in her eyes. “I can’t believe you wanted more than one.”

“Well one was twins,” he points out. “So we have four but technically we only went through it three times. So…”

“Don’t even think of following that up with anything. Nothing good will come after that. If you want another baby, you get your mistress to give you one.”

“Which one of the three?” he jokingly retorts.

“You’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Hey, if you can have another husband, I can have a couple mistresses. Don’t worry, babe. None of them are as good as you. I keep coming home, don’t I?”

“You must be a glutton for punishment. You keep coming back for more. Bet you’re wishing you were back in that little shack with bathroom chicken to keep you company.”

“Naw…” he gives her shoulder a squeeze. “…I’ll take you over bathroom chicken every day.”

****

They remain on the swing long after the sun has set. The moon full and bright; the velvet sky dotted with thousands of clearly visible and glistening stars. He continues to push that swing; one foot moving it back and forth, his arm still wrapped around her, her head on his chest. And he’s just beginning to wonder if she’s fallen asleep and he’s going to have to actually carry her inside when he feels her move against him. And when he opens his eyes, he finds her sitting straight up -facing him- staring at him intently.

“Stop being a creeper,” he teases.

“This coming from a guy who once confessed to smelling my hair.”

“That was five years ago and you took that way out of context. What I said was that you should be standing close enough to me that I could smell your hair. Not that I did I smell your hair.”

‘Bullshit. I bet you would lie awake at night sniffing my hair. You forget that I’ve known you for five years. I know what kind of weird shit you’re into.”

“Well smelling hair is not one of those things. Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not allowed to stare at my husband?”

“Not if you’re silently plotting my death while you do it, no.”

Frowning, she reaches up and traces her fingers over the cut above his eye.

“It’s fine. I ran into a fist.”

“God I hate when that happens. You should have gotten that looked at. It probably could have used stitches.”

“Medic said it wasn’t deep enough. Just to let it heal on its own.”

“And your ribs?”

“Sore. But nothing much I can do about them either. Other than taping them. And I’m not doing that so…”

“You’re a stubborn shit even now, Tyler Rake. I thought for sure you’d grow out of that. Are you sure they’re just bruised? Because if they’re broken they could cause some serious problems and…”

He silences her with a kiss. Long and soft and sweet. “I’m fine. Honest. I’ve had worse.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

“I was worried,” she confesses. “When the fours days were up and you still weren’t coming home. I thought maybe there was something you weren’t telling me.”

“Like maybe I was with one of my mistresses and not really working?” he teases, and she scowls. “Things just went to shit. Things that were totally beyond my control. Believe me, I wanted to be home after those four days too. Who doesn’t want to get home and have to read Goodnight Moon half a dozen bloody times in a row.”

She smiles at that. “I missed you.”

“I know. You showed me that three times last night.”

“You’re impossible,” she huffs, and when she stands up and attempts to leave, he grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto his lap; her knees settling on either side of his hips.

“I missed you too,” he says. “A lot.”

“So much you had to ‘study’ alone?”

“Now who’s being a smart ass? And yeah…that’s part of it, I guess…but I just missed you. I missed sitting out here every night and just talking. I missed waking up beside you and seeing that sleepy little smile. I even missed hearing you bitch about me leaving the toilet seat up and dirty socks on the floor. I just missed us.”

She smiles, and taking his face in her hands, presses a kiss to his lips. “I can’t help but worry about you. I know you wish I wouldn’t. But I can’t help it.”

“I know,” he runs his hands up her sides and around to her back.

“You’re crazy you know. For going back to it.”

“I know that too.”

“I know I said I’d support you no matter what, that I said I was behind you one hundred percent, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it. That I have to sit back like a dutiful little wife, ignoring the danger you’re in, pretending that it doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t expect you to,” his palms travel over her shoulders and down her arms, stopping at her wrists. Fingertips tracing a circular pattern on the tops of her hands.

“Aren’t you sick of this life yet, Tyler? Aren’t you sick of the bullshit? Of all the fuck ups and all the worrying and all the wondering if you’re actually going to make it back home?”

“The money’s good.” It sounds pathetic even to him. But it’s the truth.

“Good enough that you’re willing to die for it? When is it going to be enough? When will these goddamn suicide missions stop? A year from now? Two years from now? Ten? When you wind up crippled? Or worse, when you wind up dead?”

“I already told you just one more year.”

“You said that last year. And the year before. And the year before that.”

“Yeah, well this time I mean it. The kids are getting bigger. I’m starting to miss too much. And I see what it’s doing to Millie. When I’m gone for longer than expected and I come home all beaten to shit. I don’t want to have to tell her the truth. About what I’m doing. At least not until she’s older.”

“She idolizes you. There’s no one in this world that she loves more than you. As far as she’s concerned, you can do no wrong.”

“I guess she’s going to be real bloody disappointed years from now when finds out who I really am.”

“Who you really are is her daddy. That’s all that matters to her. That’s all that should matter. Come home, Tyler. To stay. No more running off. No matter how good the money is. Because I can guarantee that we need you a lot more than Nik does. Promise me. This year is the last one. You get this all out of your system and you just come home and stay home.”

“I promise,” he says, and laying a hand on the back of her head, pulls her into him. The kiss is slow at first; closed mouth moving upon closed mouth. His free hand sliding up the bottom of her t-shirt and up her back, fingertips gliding along her spine. And he feels her shudder against him when his feathery touch passes over the small of her back.

What happens next can only be described as a good old fashioned make out session. The type teens get caught up in on the couch in their parents’ basement. Hungry, demanding kisses, greedy hands exploring through the fabrics the still covering their bodies, his hands on her hips as she grinds her pelvis into his. Simple yet sexy enough to get him rock hard in his sweats.

They’re both breathless when he pulls away, running his hands through her hair and taking in her wide pupils and her flushed face and her heaving chest.

“Maybe we should go inside,” she breathlessly suggests.

“Maybe we should. Maybe we can even try for number five.”

She frowns. “Don’t push your luck.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #sanctuary #extraction

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tonystarkissist · 5 years

Text

IronDad Bingo Fic #4

Trope: Clingy

Tony had been completely minding his own business when it happened. He was humming along to the low volume of KISS playing in his shop, being completely innocent and unprovoking. The music wasn’t loud in the least, thanks to Peter’s sensitive ears, and they were both doing their own thing. He didn’t even know what in the world had come over the kid to provoke him to do what he did.

So, yeah, he was just doing his own, peaceful, little thing, engrossed into his own little world - humming and tapping his foot to the beat while tinkering on a new robot arm for Dum-E - when he felt a large mass collide into his back. He pitched forward with a misstepped stumble and yelped loudly in surprise as he desperately tried to balance himself with the sudden weight clinging to his back.

In a moment of pure panic, fueled by his instinctual fight-or-fight instincts, he whirled himself around harshly, in an attempt to throw the intruder off his back. It didn’t work, but a round of unmistakable giggles erupting from the added mass of weight helped calm his overactive heart rate.

“Geez kid,” he groaned, voice laced with annoyance, hands busy rubbing down his face as he urged himself not to get frustrated.

Peter’s only response was another bout of giggles as he adjusted himself. His arms were draped neatly over Tony’s shoulder, clasping together firmly above the man’s collarbone, and his legs were wrapped tightly around the man’s waist.

“Kid, you’re gonna break my back. I’m too old for this,” Tony grumbled, turning back down to his project, assuming the kid would cut with the shenanigans and get off him. He usually listened…

“Aw, c’mon Mr. Stark. You’re no fun. You know you can hold my weight.” Peter laughed tightening his arms around Tony’s neck for emphasis as he adjusted himself into a position that wasn’t threatening the man’s sense of balance, which would result in them both keeling over. The genius felt a chin land harshly atop his head and he rolled his eyes at the childish action.

“I’m an old man Pete. I can’t carry the weight of an entire teenager, it’s not good for my bones.”

“Oh please,” Peter scoffed, “you and I both know I’m only like 70 pounds because of my hollowness. You bench much more than that.”

Tony rolled his eyes again and grabbed for a screwdriver lying across the table, finding it much easier to maneuver around than he would have thought with a 70lb weight hanging off his back.

“Plus,” Peter continued excitedly, “I’m conducting an experiment, and I know you can never say no in the name of science.”

“Yet, here you are still attached to my back instead of off doing that very thing.”

“This is my experiment Mr. Stark!” Peter laughed outright, right into his ear.

“So, you’re testing how quickly my patience runs out are ya?” Tony teased back, smiling as Peter presses his face into his hair to muffle the giggles.

“Nope! Shuri dared me that I couldn’t stick to something for a whole 24 hours, and I thought it might be a good hypothesis to test, y’know?”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed offhandedly, not quite piecing it together.

“So, instead of just sticking to a random wall for a whole 24 hours, I thought I might stick to something that moves so that I won’t get too bored staring at the same thing for so long. Plus you don’t like it when I climb on your ceilings so…”

“So you decided it was a good idea to latch onto my back?” Tony finished, arching his brow suspiciously. He didn’t like not being able to see the kid’s face.

“Yeah, Shuri thought it was a funny idea. She double-dog dared me to actually stick to you, and y’know, I can’t turn down a double-dog dare… Plus, she said she’d let me hang out in her lab if I actually did it and I just can’t pass up that kind of opportunity Mr. Stark.”

“Did she now?” Tony sighed, already resigning to his fate. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Yep,” Peter smiled, resting his chin atop Tony’s head again while he watched him work, “plus I get a piggy-back ride out of it.”

“How old are you?” Tony questioned patronizingly.

“Fifteen!” Peter answered proudly, flicking the underside of Tony’s chin just to annoy him.

“I figured as much,” Tony muttered under his breath, walking a few steps to his left to pull up a holographic screen. “Why didn’t you go stick to Cap? He’s better built for a 24-hour long piggyback ride.” It was a low blow, and Tony could practically hear the disgusted grimace from the kid.

“Na,” the boy answered, “Shuri said it specifically had to be you. She said she wanted to patronize you through me.”

“Figures.”

“Don’t be like that Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled, “this’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, sure, I don’t think so.”

***

It didn’t take much longer than an hour for Tony’s back to start feeling the effects. So, in an effort to keep the Spiderkid pleased, and to keep his back from completely giving out, he set up a weird, two seated stool type thing. He pulled the two stools together, and according to Peter it wouldn’t be cheating as long as he was still using his sticky powers to stay latched to his back, so they did that for another couple hours.

To be honest, Tony was actually surprised at the kid’s resilience. He would have predicted for Peter to have become bored by the two hour mark, but nope… the kid kept firm in his ambition. His legs remained wrapped around Tony’s waist as he sat in the stool behind him, and his arms dropped from his shoulders to circle around his chest as he slumped forward tiredly in the chair. By hour two, Peter’s forehead was nuzzled into the center of his spine as he snoozed, and Tony simply continued on tinkering, finding slight comfort in the small vibrations of Peter’s contented humms reverberating through his back.

By hour three, Peter’s soft snores and rhythmic humming came to an abrupt stop, which was followed by an insistent grumbling from his stomach.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted softly, using one of the arms wrapped around his chest to tap the tip of his finger on the man’s collarbone to get his attention.

“What’s up Pete? Finally gonna give up with this nonsense?”

“No,” Peter answered through a big yawn, “if you’re back’s feelin’ better, ‘m just a little bit hungry… whenever you got time.”

Tony shook his head humorously at the kid’s antics.

“Alright, just let me finish up with this real quick and we can head up for some dinner.”

“Kay,” Peter hummed softly, pressing his cheek back against Tony’s spine. “How long was I ‘sleep?”

“About two hours perhaps,” Tony answered noncommittally, standing from the seat slightly to reach across the table to grab the desired tool. Peter just went right along with him, without an inch of effort on either of their parts.

“Cool,” Peter mumbled, trying to repress the grin, “only 21 more hours to go.”

“You sound rather happy about that squirt,” Tony accused him.

“You are a really comfy pillow.”

***

They were approaching hour four rather quickly when Tony finally hobbled off the stool, with a snoozing Peter firmly attached to his back, and headed towards the elevator.

“The things I do for this kid,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the four limbs wrapped around his upper body and rolling his eyes. It was like wearing a ridiculously heavy backpack.

He strolled into the main Living Space, purposefully ignoring the strange looks he received from Rhodey and Sam sitting on the couches as he passed. Sam’s face was priceless, by the way. Utter shock and confusion was always a great combination.

“Uh, Tones,” Rhodey called out pointedly, not quite as surprised as Sam, but just about as confused.

“What’s up Honeybear?” Tony asked offhandedly, throwing open the fridge while Rhodey approached him and Peter from behind.

“Um, well,” Rhodey chuckled, “it looks like you gotta little passenger hitching a ride.”

“Oh yes,” Tony replied sarcastically, “how could I forget the 70 pound weight on my back?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him and soon Sam was joining them in the kitchen, mouth agape as he stared at Peter snoozing against his back.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning to face them, “He wanted to do an experiment to see how long he could stick to something and Shuri dared him to stick to me for 24 hours. He’s bad at turning down dares, and I’m bad at putting my foot down when it comes to science.”

That reasoning seemed to appease Rhodey, and the man shrugged offhandedly before returning back to kitchen, but Sam just stared at him as if he were crazy… and he probably was honestly.

“Hey,” Tony addressed, turning slightly to expose his and the kid’s side to the man, “poke him a bit, would ya? I need to know what he wants for dinner.”

***

By hour six, Tony had found it was easier to carry the kid’s weight as long as he was moving. Peter also found easy ways to redistribute his weight to make the whole ordeal that much more comfortable for both parties. So, Tony just made sure to keep himself moving around his workshop when he wasn’t sitting on the stool.

Then, Peter had somehow convinced him to take a visit down to the gym. ‘Change of scenery’ and all that. So, at hour seven, Tony found himself doing pushups and throwing measly punches at a bag in the corner of the room. It was strange similar to wearing the suit without any the extra strength. Which… wow, made it a major workout for sure. Turned out, adding seventy pounds to your body weight while trying to do pushups decreased your reps by almost half. It was nice having his own personal cheerleader though.

That sucked up about another hour of their time, and Tony was feeling exhausted yet invigorated all the same. It left him sweaty and breathless, and Peter fanboying over his abilities without the suit.

But that led to another problem at hour 8 and a half.

“Peter I have to take a shower. I’m all sweaty and stinky, do you really want to stick to a stinky old man for the next 16 hours? Didn’t think so. Off you get.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. Stark. That’s breaking the rules. I have to stick to something for a complete 24 hours.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you rushed me down to the gym.”

“I was bored!” Peter defended with a squeaky lilt to his voice, “I wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, you got it. Now stick to something else for the 10 minutes it takes me to shower. It’s not technically cheating your experiment, and I won’t tell Shuri if you don’t.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled.

Tony rolled his eyes and backed himself up to the far wall in his bedroom. Peter’s limbs slowly detached from him and he pulled away, rolling his shoulders and turned to look at the pouting child. It was hilarious.

“Ooh, feels good,” Tony joked, giving an exaggerated stretch to his free arms and shoulders, “no spiderkid to carry around.”

Peter glared at him, and Tony grabbed clean clothes before retreating into the bathroom to take his shower.

***

Hour eleven rolled around and it was nearly two in the morning. Peter was slouching against him again, and Tony was back at it in his workshop. He was used to long binges with days without sleep, so it wasn’t a very big change of pace for him. The only problem that arose was his need to sit on the dual stool every hour or two to rest his back. He swears there will be muscles he never even knew existed sprouting soon. Pepper was sure going to have some fun with that.

Peter fell asleep almost right at the halfway mark and Tony was only slightly impressed by the spidery powers still going strong. By then he was already used to the constant contact, and he was honestly becoming quite curious as to how long the kid was able to stick to something, and he wasn’t about to give up when they were already halfway through. Peter just slouched against him again, arms wrapped over his shoulders, and chin digging into the space joining his neck and shoulder while Tony was standing in front of the holographic screens. When he sat in the stools, the kid would almost melt down his back. His arms fell from his shoulders and wrapped beneath his arms, across his chest, and his cheek found its spot against his spine.

He slept for a good straight 3 to 4 hours before Tony accidentally woke him with a loud bang. He’d dropped a heavy piece of machinery, startling both him and the kid from his sleep. He scrambled in surprise just enough to have Tony himself pitching forward at the sudden misdistribution of their combined weight. He braced himself against one of his lab tables while Peter calmed down. Then the kid apologized profusely before Tony was sitting back in the stool, coaxing him back to sleep, and soon the soft purr-like humms were back to vibrating against his back.

At hour sixteen, Peter was still asleep, and Tony was ready for breakfast. It was seven in the morning, which meant Steve was up and already cooking. So Tony thought it would be the perfect time to sneak up and steal two platefuls before all the food disappeared.

He opened his mouth wide to release a big yawn as he stepped out of the elevator onto the main floor. Then glanced around at the random placement of his teammates lounging comfortably in the large room.

“Good morning Stark!” Thor boomed loudly, startling Tony out of his wits and causing Peter to stir momentarily against his back.

“Shhh,” Tony urged angrily, pressing an index finger to his lips. “The kid’s sleeping. Hush.”

The admittance drew the attention of everyone else in the room, and they all turned to stare.

He had to admit… it must have been an odd sight. They’d only met Peter a handful of times, and none of them knew about his spider-powers yet. What an odd sight indeed.

“Is that-is that um... Peter?” Steve questioned warily, raising an eyebrow suspiciously as Tony rounded the counter and approached the mountain of food the man had cooked up.

“Yep, he’s testing out an experiment right now. Leave him alone, he’s asleep, and he’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”

“You’re just… um… carrying him around on your back?” Clint questioned from his perch on the counter.

“Yeah. Got a problem with it?” Tony snarked without looking away from the coffee pot he was tampering with.

“Nope,” Clint hurriedly defended, “no problem.”

“Great. Be a pal and fix him a big ol’ plate, huh Cap?” Tony instructed, piling on the eggs and bacon onto his own plate before shovelling it into his mouth.

“Uh-uh yeah sure.”

By the time Steve was done fixing the plate, Tony had already cleared his. He traded with the supersoldier, shoving his newly dirtied plate into his confused hands, and grabbing both the plate and mug of coffee before turning to exit the room.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey called nonchalantly from the Dining table, as if the sight of a child stuck to the genius’ back was a completely normal appearance. And considering the odd things Rhodey’s caught them doing in the past, this really wasn’t very outlandish. “When are you free from the kid’s experiment. DC wants me and you for a quick debrief this evening.”

“I’m off at 3:07 I think.”

“Great, meeting at 5 then. Don’t forget.”

Tony shot him a mock salute before scampering over to the elevator with Peter still peacefully asleep on his back.

***

Peter finally awoke at hour eighteen. It was a slow process.

Tony first noticed the wiggling and slight stretching about 10 minutes before he actually awoke. Then, he heard the distinct sound of smacking lips and annoyed grunts as he attempted to stretch his limbs, which led to him knocking the screwdriver out of Tony’s hand a couple times. Soon, the kid was sighing and nuzzling his face into his shoulder blade to hide from the morning light.

“Welcome back to the land of the living kid,” Tony laughed, taking a seat on his stool.

“Hng,” Peter grumbled irritatedly.

Not a morning person apparently.

***

Peter wasn’t fully awake and ready to start the day until hour nineteen. He devoured the food Tony left out for him using one hand and he immediately jumped back into his excitable, talkative self once food was in his belly.

“What time is it now Mr. Stark?”

“We’re still going strong at 19 hours kiddie if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“So, only five more hours then?”

Tony could have sworn he sounded sad, but his ears were probably just playing stupid tricks on him again.

“Yep, five more hours until we’re both free.”

Peter just rested his chin on top of Tony’s head, curled against his back, watching as the man messed around with the holographic images in front of them, coffee in one hand, and his tablet in the other. Peter put in his input where it was needed, and the small project kept them both occupied for another hour or so.

***

By hour 21, Peter was bored again, and Tony wasn’t having it.

“C’mon Mr. Stark,” he whined, “pleeaaasse?”

“No,” Tony snapped with an air of finality, “I’m already letting you cling to me for a straight 24 hours. I am not going to run around like an idiot and give you a freaking ‘legit piggyback ride’. You’re fifteen not five, now shush and let me do my work.”

“Whatever Dad,” Peter sassed, rolling his eyes. He plopped his chin on the man’s shoulder and pouted for a good ten minutes while Tony worked.

“Oh my god. Fine!”

“Yes!”

***

Everyone probably thought he was crazy, for sure. It was time for lunch already, and Peter was fully awake, excited and completely jittery. He was practically vibrating, and Tony knew because he could feel it. The vibrations were reverberating against his chest and he could almost feel himself get a bit nauseous at the constant motion.

He’d admit they were eating lunch fairly late… but Peter had had a late breakfast, so at 2:00, they were both ready for a proper meal.

And it just so happened that everyone decided to be lazy that day and hang around reading, drawing or… apparently playing go fish?

Peter didn’t seem to notice the mass of nosey ears that tuned into their conversation when they entered. He rambled on about his recent science adventures in Chem class and the ridiculous questions that were brought up in his Calc class, and Tony nodded along.

“Still going at it I see?” Natasha smirked, looking up from her book to smile warmly at the pair.

“Woah! Hey!” Peter’s eyes bugged out when he saw the group on the couch. “What’s up guys?”

Tony rolled his eyes and started shuffling into the kitchen, wincing at the uncomfortable pinch that had developed in his lower back. He only had another hour to go though, so he could deal with it.

“Hi Peter,” Natasha responded, her mischievous grin growing along her face. Tony glared at her, but Peter seemed indifferent to it, throwing himself right back into his in depth explanation about Ned’s new Lego Star Wars set. Completely oblivious to the fact that it might be considered a little weird for a fifteen year old intern to be getting what looked to be a ‘piggy-back’ ride from his mentor.

Tony swore the team didn’t stop staring.

***

“3:07” Tony announced quickly, “off you get kid.” He rolled his shoulder a bit for emphasis.

Peter grumbled as he slowly climbed off of the man’s back, and Tony moaned happily at the release of tension.

“Don’t sound so happy about it, geez.” Peter sounded offended as he stretched his own limbs.

“Oh please,” Tony scoffed, “I carried your weight, literally, for an entire 24 hours. Any person would be happy to weigh 70 pounds less.” He rolled his neck around in a slow circle, then bent his back backwards to stretch out the muscles. “You coulda started me out at just an hour or two at least before dumping the entire 24 hour pack on me. Goodness kid, I’m gonna feel this all week.”

“Sorry.” Peter actually sounded a bit sheepish.

Tony turned around to look at the apologetic kid wringing his hands together while he stared down at his socked feet.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t sweat it kid,” Tony smiled reassuringly, “I’d go through a lot more for the sake of a dare… or science.”

“Dare?” Peter asked confusedly, cocking his head to the side.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Yes… Shuri’s dare… the whole reason you had to stick to me instead of something normal or reasonable... like a wall.”

“Oh,” Peter muttered, eyes widening, “oh yes! Of course! I don’t know how I forgot.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered suspiciously. “Now, why don’t you go skedaddle and go share your findings with your pal. I’ll vouch for you if you need it.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay, sure!” Peter stumbled, grinning slightly as he scampered out of the room with a quick wave and shout of ‘thanks’.

***

Tony didn’t find out the whole truth until weeks later after the effects of the incident had worn off his back and shoulders.

He had called Shuri for some input on his new suit design, and somehow the subject of Peter had come up.

“So, did you feel good sticking a 70 pound kid to my back for a whole day?” Tony joked offhandedly for sake of conversation while he inputted variables into his suits coding.

“Excuse me? What nonsense are you talking about this time Stark?” She questioned incredulously.

Tony blinked and turned to stare at the screen.

“The experiment… the dare,” he responded slowly, studying her face for any flicker of recognition. “The experiment to find out how long Peter can stick to something… a week ago.”

Shuri’s face lit up at that. “Oh that! The one where he dared himself like an idiot? I swear he is such a dork,” Shuri laughed a little before looking back at the screen. “Where did he stick? A wall? The ceiling? I’m curious; he wouldn’t tell me the details.”

Tony slowly processed. Then his face hardened and his gaze snapped over to the overturned backpack slung across the kid’s designated desk.

“That little brat… he coulda just asked.”

So, this one was lots of fun!! Thanks for reading! And thank you again @irondadbingo for the bingo card! :)

#irondad fic #irondad #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #tony stark is a softie #peter parker is too pure #peter parker is a dork #tony stark is such a dad #clingy peter #piggyback rides #tony stark is so done with peter parker

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snowybluecat · 5 years

Text

You’re My Player Two

“Isabelle... wins!”

Emma groans as the little yellow dog gloats on the small screen, with the smiling boy dressed in green clapping in the corner, congratulating her for winning and accepting his defeat.

“Alyssa, that’s the fifth time in the row! At least play as a different character!”

Alyssa couldn’t help herself whenever it came to her competitiveness. She was used to competing in the debate club and cheerleading, so video games were no problem.

The only problem was that she always wins no matter what, not even giving Emma a chance.

“Emma, I’m not playing as a different character. How could you resist this adorable little dog? And her name is Isabelle! Could it get any cuter than this? Maybe you should play as a different character.”

“But Toon Link is so good! I know I have a chance to beat you because I’ve managed to defeat several level nine CPUs with him before, and those guys are not easy to fight.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Emma actually has more experience with video games, since Mrs. Greene would much rather have her daughter staring at a textbook than a screen. Alyssa always cherished the time they spent in the band closet, whether if they were talking, eating snacks her mother wouldn’t allow, or playing on Emma’s Nintendo Switch. Whenever she wasn’t playing, she would often be sitting and cuddling with Emma, watching her play against CPUs or even other people online. And oh boy, she was really good.

The brunette came up with a compromise. “Okay, how about we both play as different characters? It’ll be fair for both of us.”

The blonde nodded in agreement. Maybe Alyssa was just good at one character? Even though she keeps destroying her in each round, she has to admit that it’s pretty cute.

Over seventy characters were shown on the screen, along with the two cursors labeled “P1″ and “P2″ scrolling across, which were controlled by the girls with their red/blue controllers. They decided to select “random,” just to make it a surprise and see what character they got.

On the left, Player One, or Emma, was a big red cat, also known as Incineroar. On the right, Player Two, or Alyssa, was an adorable blonde princess, who’s name was Zelda.

Emma’s eyes widened in excitement. “I’ve been playing as Incineroar a lot lately! Maybe this will be my chance!”

Alyssa playfully rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Emma. You’re still going down.”

The announcer’s voice in the game echoes as the two characters prepare to fight.

“Three... two... one... GO!”

The match went on for a few minutes, becoming more intense each second. With no surprise, Emma was being obliterated by Alyssa.

That was until she tried to distract her.

Emma grabbed the nearest chocolate bar, still trying to focus on the game. Alyssa still has three lives in the battle, while Emma is narrowed down to one. She waves the chocolate bar in front of her face, covering her view of the screen.

“Look at me, Alyssa! Don’t I look like a nice, scrumptious chocolate bar?” Emma says in a funny voice. “If you eat me, you can let Emma win! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Alyssa stared at the chocolate for a second, practically drooling, until she realizes that her character accidentally jumped off the stage and lost one life. Looks like the distraction worked.

“Hey!” The brunette protested. “I can’t see the screen and I jumped off!”

The blonde smirked. “Looks like we’re two against one now.”

Distraction number two began to initiate. Emma, making sure Incineroar was shielding himself so he doesn’t get damaged at the moment, places a kiss on Alyssa’s cheek. Alyssa keeps her eyes on the screen, just barely resisting the urge to kiss her back.

Emma kisses her again, this time on the side of her jaw. She could have sworn she saw her close her eyes for a split second, enjoying the moment.

Just like that, she lost her second life and was down to one more.

“Aww, are you letting me win Alyssa?” Emma asks mockingly, proud of what she has accomplished.

Alyssa giggles. “No way. You know I’m always going to be the champion of this game.”

“Not if I distract you more-”

“GAME!”

“Zelda... wins!”

“I told you so.”

For what feels like the hundredth time, Emma groaned again. How was she this good at video games? Or really, how was she this good at everything?

“How are you this amazing, Alyssa? I thought for sure I was going to win this time!”

Alyssa looks at her girlfriend in the most lovingly way possible. She may have witnessed her losing all six rounds, but she knows in reality that she’s not a loser at all. She knows she has experienced different times where she was in the most pain. But she survived all of them. God, how was she this brave?

She cups her face in her hands and gives her a gentle kiss on the lips.

“You’ll always be a winner to me, Emma.”

(Based off of the headcanons I posted about here)

#the prom musical #the prom #emma nolan #alyssa greene #greenelan #this is the first fic ive written in forever so its probably not the best lmao #but i liked how it came out #and if its not obvious theyre playing smash ultimate #i wanna post it on ao3 but im still waiting for my invite to be accepted #so yeah #hope yall enjoyed it #snowywrites

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seriestrash · 5 years

Text

12 Days of Tyrus

Summary: The cold season is upon them and Cyrus finds himself wishing for a lot this festive season, many of those wishes happen to involve TJ.

Note: Yes I will be writing a multi-chapter fic for the 12 days! No it will not be 12 parts long, it will be 6 so I shall post every second day! Also I will be including almost all of the prompts for the 12 days within this story!

Incase it is unclear the days mentioned are the sixth and seventh night of Hanukkah (the Saturday and second Sunday)

Read on ao3

Chapter One: Hanukkah

Word Count: 3538

It’s early in the afternoon on a cold Saturday in December. Cyrus is out braving the frosty bite in the air after his mother requested he run to the grocery store to pick up a few last minute things before they go to her parents house for a quiet Hanukkah celebration.

Cyrus is juggling a grocery bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other when he spots TJ further up the street walking in his direction. TJ is lightly bopping along to whatever music is playing in the headphones he wears, his Jackson Street Gym shirt is framed by an unzipped sweatshirt that swings gently as he moves. Cyrus smiles at the sight of TJ even though he hadn’t noticed him in return. As they near each other, TJ looks up to smile at the passerby and realises who it is.

“Cyrus.” TJ sounds pleasantly surprised. He pulls the headphones out and wears a smile that reaches his eyes.

“Funny running into you here.” Cyrus greets him with a wide grin of his own.

“On the corner of Jackson Street, where I work.” TJ says with a smirk, “A real coincidence I’m sure.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you.” Cyrus jokes with a soft chuckle before giving a playful look as if to say, ‘or am I?'

“And here I was thinking you were lingering outside my work ready to bring me flowers.” TJ jokes as he motions to the bouquet Cyrus holds. TJ’s look of mock offence makes Cyrus laugh further. Once the chuckles tapers off, TJ shifts almost nervously on his feet, “So,” TJ says with his eyes resting on the bouquet again before flicking his stare back to Cyrus’, “You got a date or something?”

“Oh yeah.” Cyrus exaggerates a smirk as he nods, “She’s an older woman. Like seventy years older,” Cyrus cant keep a straight face anymore, “She’s my grandma.”

TJ’s expression scrunches at the joke and he shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“It’s Hanukkah.” Cyrus smiles, “We’re going to see my mom’s parents tonight.”

“Oh, it’s Hanukkah?” TJ questions and Cyrus bops his head even though it was rhetorical. “So is tonight like the big night?”

“Uh, no.” Cyrus shakes his head, “We’re just having a quiet night at their house.”

“So when is the main day?” TJ asks. “I know Hanukkah is eight nights but is it the last one that’s the biggest?”

Cyrus fights the urge to smile and TJ notices, “Oh no, have I said something stupid?” TJ frowns and drops his gaze to his shoes with embarrassment.

Cyrus wears a kind smile. “Lighting the menorah and saying the blessings each night is more or less the same but it’s not like halloween or Christmas where everything builds up to one big celebration. Some families make a bigger deal out of the last night than they do the other seven but for a lot it’s just family time during Hanukkah, some nights might be bigger than others. For me it really just depends on what family we’re seeing on the day.”

“Oh.” TJ says and he appears to be genuinely interested in what Cyrus had to say, “I didn’t really know that… I guess if I’m being honest I don’t really know much about Hanukkah at all.”

Cyrus was used to people not understanding his traditions as Hanukkah tended to fade into the background as everyone gets into the Christmas spirit. Cyrus was also used to having to explain Hanukkah to different people, he actually kind of liked it because it meant he got to talk about his favourite time of year. Cyrus especially liked getting his friends involved in Hanukkah.

“Well if you wanted to understand it a little better you’re welcome to come over one night this Hanukkah.” Cyrus politely invites TJ.

“Really?” TJ seems surprised, “I wouldn’t be like, intruding or something?”

“No way. My mom loves when I bring my friends over for Hanukkah.” Cyrus beams.

“Okay. That sounds really cool.” TJ nods. “I’d like that.”

“How about tomorrow night at my mom’s house?” Cyrus asks. “I mean you can come with me to my grandma’s tonight but she’s a cheek pincher.”

 TJ rolls his head forward with a chuckle. “Tomorrow night.” He nods with a smile. “I’m there.”

The following day, Cyrus is all too happy to dress in the sweater his mom laid out for him to wear whilst indulging in an evening with family. As the night unfolds, Cyrus' mom’s home fills with faces of people he loves. Cyrus sits on the floor of the living room with his two younger brothers, Mason - Todd’s son from a previous marriage and Noah - Sharon and Norman’s son - as they teach Cyrus a new game they made up using the dreidel. Cyrus had previously taught them both how to play properly but the young boys found it more interesting to make up their own set of rules and Cyrus was happy to go along with it.

Although Cyrus was enjoying the quality time with his young siblings, he couldn’t help but repeatedly check his watch as he eagerly awaits the arrival of TJ. The doorbell rings and Cyrus springs up from his position and looks around embarrassed thinking he might have raised suspicion amongst his family members. Although the older adults didn’t seem to be alerted, Cyrus’ two younger brothers looked up at him with pouty faces.

“I’ll be back to play soon.” Cyrus gives them both a crooked smile, “And don’t think I wont notice you taking jellybeans from my pile!” Cyrus gives them a playfully stern look each before making his way to the front door where his father, Norman has already answered it.

“Is it-“ Cyrus deflates when he realises it’s his older stepbrother - also from Todd’s previous marriage - and his girlfriend, “Oh hi, Jared.”

“Gee, Cy, I’m really glad to see you too.” Jared jokes sarcastically before lunging forward and pinning Cyrus in a headlock.

“This is exactly why I’m never excited to see you.” Cyrus groans as he tries to wriggle free but Jared’s grip is too strong and Cyrus is subjected to an all too familiar hair ruffle.

“Give Cy a break.” Allison, Jared’s girlfriend says with a soft giggle as she steps around them and into the house.

Cyrus could hear his father chuckling at the sight before he left to escort Allison into the festivities. Cyrus continues to wrestle with Jared and the pair end up out on the porch. The two circle as Cyrus struggles to free himself and when Cyrus spins towards the street his gaze catches a confused looking TJ at the bottom of the porch steps. Jared and Cyrus both stop the struggle when they spot the basketball captain although Jared doesn’t release Cyrus from his grip.

“Hey, you made it.” Cyrus laughs nervously in his stepbrothers headlock. “TJ, this is my brother Jared, Jared, this is my friend TJ.”

“Hey.” TJ lets out a quiet chuckle and sends a wave in Jared’s direction.

Jared gives Cyrus’ hair another ruffle before finally releasing him with an amused smirk as Cyrus scrambles to fix his do.

“Nice to meet you.” Jared grins at TJ before turning to Cyrus, “I’m going to go find my dad and say hello.”

“Meet you in there, jerk.” Cyrus grumbles as he straightens up his outfit.

“Suddenly I’m glad I’m the older brother in my family.” TJ jokes as he makes his way up the porch steps.

“Jared loves to torment me.” Cyrus says feeling lightly embarrassed.

“He’s your stepbrother, right?” TJ questions.

“Yeah, he’s Todd’s son from his first marriage.” Cyrus explains.

“So does that mean Mason is here too?” TJ asks and Cyrus’ expression curls into one of surprise.

“You know Mason?” Cyrus asks, he knew TJ had met his parents before but he didn’t know he had met his stepbrother.

“And Noah, of course.” TJ nods casually but then smiles at Cyrus’ rather adorable look of confusion. “I officially knew one other person at your Bar Mitzvah party and Buffy hated me back then,” TJ chuckles, “If I wasn’t aggravating Buffy I was talking to random people, most of them were your family.”

“Or when you weren’t helping me open tricky bottles of apple cider.” Cyrus smiles back fondly on the memory.

“Exactly.” TJ smiles too. “Your Aunt Ruth- Very chatty by the way.”

“Amazing.” Cyrus says to himself more than TJ, “Aunt Ruth isn’t here tonight but Mason is, he’s inside playing with Noah.”

“He is?” TJ questions. “Isn’t Noah your dad and Sharon’s son?” TJ knowing this wasn’t as surprising as TJ had officially met Noah before as he had hung out at Cyrus’ fathers house.

“Yep.” Cyrus nods, “They’re both inside too.”

“Oh, so all four of your parents are here?” TJ looks surprised.

“Yes.” Cyrus beams with excitement. “You’ve come for my favourite night of Hanukkah.”

Cyrus' family might not put importance into one single night of Hanukkah but this was certainly Cyrus’ favourite one because without fail every year he’d get one night with his divorced parents together and since their new marriages it would be all four of his parents along with his mix of step and half brothers. Now having TJ be apart of it made the night feel extra special for Cyrus.

“Come inside,” Cyrus ushers TJ in with a grin.

“I like your sweater by the way.” TJ says as he follows Cyrus.

“Thank you.” Cyrus grins, “Look, I can light the candles-” Cyrus lights the flames of the menorah on his sweater via their reversible sequins. This makes TJ chuckle fondly.

Once inside, Cyrus brings TJ to the kitchen where his four parents gathered with Jared and Allison. They each politely greet TJ and make him instantly feel welcomed.

“Thank you for having me here tonight.” TJ smiles at Leslie. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Thank you dear but you’re fine, you two go off and have some fun.” Leslie’s smile is kind, “Dinner shouldn’t be too far off.”

“We can hang out in my room.” Cyrus says with a grin but before the two could get past the living room he’s nearly tackled by Mason and Noah.

TJ gives them both a happy high-five each which visually cements in Cyrus’ mind that TJ had previously interacted with them both prior to tonight.

“You said you were coming back to play?” Mason looks hopeful.

“Oh yeah.” Cyrus furrows his brows, “But TJ and I were going to hang out…”

“I’ll play.” TJ wears a goofy smile, “But someone’s going to have to teach me the rules.”

Cyrus turns to give TJ and ‘are you sure?’ look but he’s already crouching down to sit with the children. Cyrus joins the three and looks at his pile of jellybeans which has seemed to diminish in his absence.

Cyrus quickly explains to TJ what the dreidel is and what is written on each side. “They’re letters from the Hebrew alphabet, Nun, Gimel, Hei and Shin. Together they make an acronym, nes gadol haya sham which translates to-”

“A great miracle happened there.” Mason excitedly finishes.

“Exactly.” Cyrus smiles at his younger brother. “So you were listening when I taught you how to play?” Cyrus turns back to TJ, “The miracle being-”

“A one day supply of oil lasting eight days.” This time is TJ that cuts in proudly with an answer.

Cyrus coaxes his head in bewilderment. “I thought you didn’t know much about Hanukkah?”

“I didn’t.” TJ admits, “But I did some research last night.”

“You did?” Cyrus’ smile creeps wider.

TJ just gives Cyrus a small smile before turning his attention to the two youngsters that are patiently waiting to play the game. “Right, so how do I play?”

“Well I explained what the dreidel really says but Mason and Noah have made up their own meanings.” Cyrus laughs, “Each side is a colour corresponding with a colour of jellybean...” Cyrus goes on to explain the new game and the four of them get quite competitive as they play. They continue right through until Sharon lets them know that dinner is ready.

“I’m starving.” TJ jumps up from his place and makes his way over to the table. Cyrus watches TJ with a smile as he approaches the table and he looks to Leslie as if to ask her permission. Leslie picks up on it and tells TJ to sit wherever he likes.

“I want to sit next to TJ!” Mason comes charging over.

“No I want to sit next to TJ!” Noah rushes over too.

“Hey, good thing I have two sides.” TJ shares a goofy grin between the two.

“Hey?” Cyrus looks over at them with a frown. “What if I wanted to sit next to TJ?”

TJ gives Cyrus an unapologetic shrug.

You can sit next to me my little cookie pie.” Leslie squeezes Cyrus into a side hug.

“Mom!” Cyrus groans embarrassed. TJ chuckles softly and with rosy cheeks Cyrus joins his mother at the table, he ends up directly across from TJ with his mother on one side and his father on the other.

Dinner unfolds and the vibe in the room is joyous. The adults quiz Allison and Jared about their college studies, Mason and Noah take up most of TJ’s attention whilst Cyrus sits back and happily watches his family and friend.

Leslie explains a few of the foods to TJ incase they were foreign to him but the basketballer ate everything seemingly without question. Then it’s Cyrus’ father who turns his attention - and subsequently the attention in the room - towards TJ.

“TJ, are you and your family planning anything special for the holidays?” Norman asks.

“No, nothing special,” TJ grows sheepish, “Sort of just waiting for them to be over…” TJ’s last statement struck Cyrus as odd and the basketball captain did his best to avoid Cyrus’ quizzical gaze.

“You’re not a big Christmas fan?” Norman further questions.

“Not really.” TJ shrugs in place.

“At least the break off school will be nice.” Norman smiles trying to make TJ feel more comfortable.

“Now that’s something to look forward to.” TJ smiles.

“TJ, if you’re not doing anything your family you’re welcome to join us on our ski trip this year.” Leslie says genuinely and Cyrus’ excitement level soared.

“Really?” TJ seems surprised.

“Oh course.” Leslie smiles. “Andi and Buffy are both coming this year too and Jonah is still waiting for his parents to decide.”

TJ appears to look uncertain as he finds Cyrus’ stare across the table. “It will be so much fun.” Cyrus nods his approval.

“Says the lousy skier.” Jared teases from further down the table.

“Leave Cyrus alone.” Todd scolds his oldest son. “I’m sure Jared will be more polite during the drive to the lodge.”

TJ thanks both Leslie and Todd for the invite and says he’ll speak to his mother about it when he goes home.

Once everyone is full from dinner - although they each know desserts were still to come - Todd leads the group in lighting the menorahs. The family gather around at the front of the house where a few menorahs were sat on a table.

“There’s more than one?” TJ questions quietly.

“Yeah, that one is mine.” Cyrus matches TJ’s soft tone as he points out his one.

Todd holds the matches and lights each shamash either an adult or child was holding. Everyone starts to say the blessing. TJ had been given a sheet of paper so he could try and follow along, which for the most part he did but the boy looked extremely lost and a little embarrassed by his attempts. During the second blessing Cyrus gives TJ an encouraging smile for his efforts and this seems to put him a little more at ease.

After Cyrus lit the first candle he goes to pass the shamash to TJ who seems panicked. “Are you sure?” TJ mumbles to Cyrus as if Cyrus’ entire family wasn’t watching them.

Cyrus again smiles encouragingly and hands the shamash to TJ, their fingers brushing against each others in the process. Although he was sheepish, TJ rather proudly lights the next candle. The two middle schoolers exchange a warm smile afterwards. The two continue to take turns lighting the next candle on Cyrus’ menorah.

After the menorah lighting is complete everyone makes their way back towards the living and dining area for a more informal desert.

TJ throughly enjoys a good helping of the sufganiyot although he has to revert to calling them doughnuts as he butchered the name.

After a night full of family, friends and filling food, Leslie wraps up two extra sufganiyots for TJ to take home to his twin siblings.

It’s not until Cyrus is walking TJ out for the night that they finally get a moment alone.

“You’ve got to light the extra candle now.” TJ steps forward and uses his index finger to ‘light’ the sequins on the next candle of Cyrus’ sweater. This gesture made Cyrus’ skin tickle with goosebumps and he was thankful his Hanukkah sweater concealed them. “I can’t guarantee these are going to be given to the twins,” TJ laughs as he holds his wrapped desserts, “They’re so good.”

“I’ve been eating them all week, I’m going to turn into one if I’m not careful.” Cyrus jokes.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” TJ says.

“Thanks for coming, sorry my brothers bothered you all night.” Cyrus apologises.

“No bother at all.” TJ insists, “I had a lot of fun.”

“You did come for my favourite night.” Cyrus’ smile is small but full of warmth.

“Because all your parents come together for it?” TJ questions.

Cyrus nods. “Every year during Hanukkah I bounce around between mom and dads houses. Extended family on both sides come into town or sometimes we’ll go and see them but every year without fail there is one night of Hanukkah where all four of my parents get together and we have a big celebration.”

“For a divorced couple your parents get along really well.” TJ lightly kicks the ground and something about it felt like TJ had spoken a thought out loud.

“My dad makes a few digs at Todd here and there but he is only ever joking,” Cyrus lets out a single laugh, “My mom is his best friend.”

“How often does that happen for split couples?” TJ looks away.

“I know, I’m really lucky.” Cyrus acknowledges, “My parents were high school sweethearts and they got married right after college and then had me. I think they both denied it for a while but they weren't in love anymore - although they constantly assure me I was born out of love -” Cyrus pauses to laugh before continuing, “They split up when I was two but I don’t really remember that.”

“You have a really nice family.” TJ’s smile is soft.

“Well you’ll get to spend more time with us on the ski trip - well my mom, Todd and Jared.” Cyrus corrects, “Mason will be with his mom.”

“I don’t have to come to that.” TJ shakes his head.

“But I want you to come,” Cyrus frowns, “Only if you want to come that is..” Cyrus adds quickly.

“Your mom invited me, you invited your friends.” TJ is shy as they broach the subject, “It kind of feels like a pity invite.”

“That’s not what this is at all.” Cyrus’ frown deepens at TJ even having the thought, “I asked my mom if we could invite you.”

“You did?” TJ seems unsure.

“Yes.” Cyrus is genuine, “I was going to talk to you about it tonight but my mom beat me to it.”

“Still.” TJ shrugs a shoulder and Cyrus didn’t like that TJ still didn’t believe him but he decides not to push it much more, instead Cyrus gives TJ some information to take back to his parents.

“So mom, Todd and I will be going on the 24th and then Jared who’s spending Christmas with his girlfriend will be driving to the lodge on the 26th. He’s taking Buffy, Andi - and Jonah if he’s allowed - in his car.” Cyrus explains, “Jared is a pain in the neck but he’s a safe driver. Your parents can talk to my mom and Todd about it if they’re unsure.”

“Okay. I’ll speak to my mom about it.” TJ nods and a car pulling up interrupts them both, “That’s my mom, I have to go.”

“Remember to ask about the ski trip.” Cyrus adds eagerly.

“I will,” TJ nods, “Thanks again for inviting me.”

Cyrus watches as TJ disappears down the street in his mothers car. Cyrus can’t help but reflect on TJ’s off mood during that conversation. Cyrus’ insecurities would normally lead him to believe that this was because someone like TJ wouldn’t want to hang out with someone like himself but Cyrus knew that wasn’t the case, Cyrus believed TJ genuinely didn't understand that Cyrus really wanted him there.

Cyrus remains alone out in the cold December air for a while longer and he finds himself wishing TJ knew how much he meant to him.

End notes: Day one complete!!!!!!! Firstly I want to say thank you to @malepresentingleg and @scarybasketballguy for letting me quiz their big beautiful brains about Hanukkah! They both have been SUCH a help to me! I honestly couldn’t have finished this chapter without them!

Also, the sweater Cyrus was wearing for reference [x] I request by Shir that I was happy to fulfil hehe!

As mentioned in the notes at the beginning this will be a multi chapter fic and I will be uploading every second day! (6 chapters in total)

Please let me know how you’re liking the story so far!!

Tag list! If you would like to be added or removed at anytime please don’t hesitate to ask!

❄️ @baby-its-gayy-outside ❄️ @byersrainbows ❄️ @geekingbeautytx ❄️ @shadows78787 ❄️ @caprisunandcookiedough ❄️ @joshua-rush-fanpage ❄️ @thedampjofangirl ❄️ @homosexualearthworm ❄️

#tyrus #andi mack #12daysoftyrus #12 days of tyrus

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