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tickly-tufts · 4 years

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Even Better Than Chi Blocking

Chi blocking... a technique so formidable that even powerful benders had reason to be wary. Capable of paralyzing with just a few precise strikes, it was an advantage Team Avatar sorely lacked. Having narrowly escaped the Boiling Rock mere days ago, they were once again reminded of this by Ty Lee.

“Maybe we can figure it out on our own!”

Sokka's proposal immediately earned looks of skepticism.

“I suppose there’s no harm in trying,” Suki conceded.

“But how would you even do that?” Zuko questioned.

Sokka tapped his chin, looking thoughtful, before realizing they already had the perfect test group. Suki and himself, two nonbenders, could attempt chi blocking on their resident firebender. All they had to do was check Zuko's reactions. However, as soon as he voiced this plan...

“No way. I’m not agreeing to that.” Zuko crossed his arms.

“Aw, c’mon, it could be useful!”

“Why do I have to be your practice dummy?!”

Suki watched them argue for about a minute before taking matters into her own hands.

“There’s no way I’m letting you- Wha- Hey!”

Zuko flailed when Suki suddenly grabbed him from behind. She swept his legs out from underneath him, then caught him right before he hit the floor. By the time he processed what was happening, she’d already wrapped her legs around his upper arms. Nothing short of firebending was going to break her hold.

Zuko dropped his head back in resignation.

“Relax,” Suki reassured. “We’ll stop if anything hurts.”

That was the least of Zuko's worries, but he could hardly admit that. As Sokka crouched over him, considering where to begin, Zuko resisted the urge to squirm.

Then the poking started.

While Zuko fought to stay still, Sokka tried to remember where he’d seen Ty Lee strike. He jabbed his fingers in a few random spots, before noticing Zuko was holding back.

“Hey, Jerkbender, you know we need you to react, right? I won’t know when I hit a pressure point if you hide how you’re feeling.”

“Th-this is stupid!” Zuko stubbornly insisted. “Chi blocking’s an ancient practice. You can’t just master it by-” The rest of Zuko’s sentence caught in his throat as Sokka hit a particular spot on his side.

Curious, Sokka pressed it again, making Zuko yelp and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Did you find a pressure point?” Suki asked. Sokka would have thought so, if it weren’t for Zuko’s expression.

The corner of his mouth was twitching upwards, and Sokka had too much experience as an older brother not to recognize what it meant.

“Wait a minute...” Excitement seeped into his voice. “Are you ticklish?”

"N-No! Of course not!” Zuko opened his eyes, then paled when he saw a pair of matching grins. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Suki and Sokka shared a brief glance, then nodded once, settling on a new goal. Zuko could feel his heart sinking into his stomach as he became increasingly aware of his vulnerable position.

Sokka cleared his throat.

“Well, in my opinion, this calls for some research!” He hovered both hands over Zuko’s torso. “It’s crucial that we know if our test subject is ticklish.”

“Absolutely,” Suki agreed with mock-seriousness.

“Wait! Hold on! Don’t I get a say?!” Zuko struggled as Sokka drew closer. Twisting and turning didn’t help at all, and with just a light touch, he burst into giggles.

“Interesting reaction for someone who’s not ticklish,” Suki remarked, openly amused.

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Zuko protested, only to squeal when he felt pinching.

“What was that?” Sokka was delighted. He hadn’t thought the prince capable of making such a noise. “Suki, did you catch that?”

“I think that was the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.”

Unaccustomed to such teasing, Zuko instantly turned red. Suki was quick to point it out, which only served to fluster him further.

“Aww, are you blushing?” she practically cooed. “That’s adorable.”

Zuko swore he was going to melt.

Once Sokka was done tickling his sides, he moved in towards his belly.

“StohohoHOHOHOP!” Giggles made way for laughter. “EHEHENOHOHOUGH AHAHALREHEHEADY!”

“So that’s what you sound like when you laugh... I like it!” Sokka decided. “You should try doing it more often, or I guess I could just tickle you more. Your smile’s pretty nice, too!”

Somehow feeling both flattered and embarrassed, Zuko turned his head away in an attempt to hide his face. Suki, however, stopped him in his tracks, tickling the side of his neck until he had to turn back.

Just when Zuko thought things couldn’t get any worse, Sokka’s focus shifted higher. He slid his fingers between the prince’s ribs, redoubling his efforts when Zuko’s laughter grew frantic. It soon became apparent that he’d discovered a sweet spot.

"NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” Zuko thrashed.

"What’s that? You like it right here?”

“I think he does,” Suki played along. “Have you ever seen him so happy?”

Hysterical was probably a more accurate description. All Zuko could think about was how much it tickled. Sokka had proven to be a terrifyingly good tickler, and Zuko couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard.

“PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE THIHIHIS!” he eventually begged.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Sokka relented.

“You know what?” Suki piped up. “I think this works even better than chi blocking. Who would’ve guessed tickling was all it took to get the Prince of the Fire Nation pleading for mercy?”

Zuko could tell they were staring at him, but he refused to meet their gaze. His upperbody still felt like it was tingling, while his face burned with humiliation.

“Think we should tell any of the others?”

At that, Zuko’s eyes snapped up in horror.

Sokka made a show of considering it, before finally shaking his head.

“Nah, let’s keep it between us. No one else has to know. In other words, it’ll be our secret technique.”

#zuko #sokka #suki #suzukka #zukka #sukka #zuki #zukki #avatar the last airbender #tickling #a tickly fic #changed the premise slightly but still #anon your MIND

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admiralbuttcheek · 3 years

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A Pox on Our Pilot (Sicktember 2021)

@sicktember 2021 Day 3: Chickenpox/Rash

Fandom: Top Gun (1986)

Characters: Maverick/Goose

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33667063

The first call came from Carole.

“Hey, honey, how are you?” Goose’s smile was audible.

Carole didn’t sound as happy. “I’m doing well, but it’s Bradley.” Goose’s smile faded. “You see-”

“What is it?” he asked, cutting off the rest of her sentence. She huffed a heavy sigh before continuing.

“He’s got chickenpox.”

Well… shit. Now it was Goose’s turn to sigh heavily, then turn away from the phone for dramatic effect. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s right as rain. Itchy and all, but happy to be staying home from school watching cartoons all day.” The pilot chuckled. He’d had chickenpox as a kid too, and that’s exactly what he remembered: staying home, eating ice cream and reading comics. Not a bad couple of days.

“And you? You don’t have it, do you?” Goose couldn’t bear the thought of his wife and son, itchy and miserable and all alone, while he and Mav had the time of their lives in Miramar. Just a few days ago they’d come up to visit, which was nice.

“Not,” Carole hummed. “Not yet, anyway. I called his pediatrician, he said Bradley is contagious until all the spots go away. Apparently you can be contagious before they even show up.”

“Really? If you need anything, call your mom, okay? I’m sorry, babe, I wish I could be there to help.”

“Goose,” Carole soothed. “I can handle a little chickenpox. But you, stay safe out there, you hear me? No more crazy flyby’s with Maverick.” She giggled in good nature.

“I will,” Goose promised. “Take care, my love. Just a few more weeks.”

“You too, Goose. See you soon.”

When he got the second call, he knew who was on the other end. Maverick.

“Goose,” came the aviator’s croaky, washed-out voice. He sounded like hell.

“Say no more, Mav;” Goose replied. “I’m on my way.”

The front door was unlocked, which was perfect because Pete knew he didn’t have the strength to go open it. He woke up this morning with a pounding headache. When he trudged into the bathroom to get some Tylenol, a chance glance into the mirror showed him exactly why he felt so goddamn awful. Spots, hundreds of them, all over his face. When he looked down, they were all over his chest, too. Oh my God. As the sleepiness waned, the itchiness kicked in. It was downright unbearable. But moving his arms to scratch at them hurt; every joint simply ached.

He didn’t think twice before calling Goose.

“I’m glad you called, Mav,” the RIO said as he scrutinized the lump of blankets and spotty flesh on the couch. “You sounded like crap on the phone, and you look like crap in person.”

“I feel like crap, Goose,” Mav moaned. “Seriously, everything hurts. And itches.”

Goose reached a hand out to his pilot’s forehead to check for fever, but Maverick jerked away.

“Don’t, I’m contagious,” he croaked. Goose shrugged and reached forward anyway.

“I already had it, when I was in 3rd grade.” Maverick felt warmer to the touch than usual. Nick went to search for a thermometer. “Can’t believe you never had it,” he called back from the bathroom. He returned with a thermometer, giving it a vigorous shake before sticking it in Pete’s mouth.

“Got lucky, I suppose,” Maverick mumbled around the glass.

“Don’t forget, under the tongue,” Goose prompted.

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Goose, I have been sick before.” The pilot scratched absent-mindedly at his bare, pockmarked chest.

He smirked. “You sure as hell don’t act like it. You’re a disaster, man.”

“No wonder they call you ‘Mother Goose,’” Mav retorted. “They should call you ‘Mother Hen.’”

Goose erupted into disproportionately hysterical laughter. “Good one!” He cawed. Taking some time to catch his breath, he sauntered into the kitchen. It was pretty bare; Maverick wasn’t exactly a five-star chef. All he could find was some instant coffee, a loaf of bread, some saltine crackers, and half a box of breakfast cereal. Not even a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. Shrugging, he grabbed the crackers and filled up a tall glass of water.

When he returned, Maverick had spit out the thermometer and was holding it up to the light.

“What’s the damage?” Goose asked.

“100 even. Not great, but not bad.” Maverick slumped back over, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He was shivering ever so slightly.

Goose held out the crackers. “Here. You should eat something.” Maverick shook his head, looking away.

“No. Feel too sick.”

“Sick like feverish sick, or sick like ‘gonna puke’ sick?” Goose probed.

The pilot gave a half-hearted shrug. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”

“Fine, but at least drink some water, okay dear?” Goose said in a wifely, mock-doting tone. Maverick snorted and looked at the glass like it was toxic, but accepted it and took a sip anyway.

“Do you have any calamine lotion?” Goose asked.

Mav’s brow furrowed. “Any what?”

“Calamine lotion,” Goose repeated. “Y’know, the pink stuff your mom would rub on you when you got into poison ivy. Looks like Pepto Bismol.” Maverick’s face remained blank, confused. “Seriously? Never got chickenpox, never got poison ivy… Did you even have a childhood, Mav?” Maverick smiled, then wrenched the blanket off to frantically itch his back. He cursed.

“Don’t scratch them,” Goose chastised softly. “That only makes it worse.”

“I wouldn’t scratch them,” Maverick began, voice strained with irritation. “If I wasn’t. So. Damned. ITCHY! God, can’t you give me something for this?”

“That’s what the calamine lotion was for.”

Maverick made an exasperated noise that broke into a weak cough.

“I have an idea,” Goose said. “Stay right there, I’ll be back in a sec.” He shuffled back towards the bathroom.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Maverick hissed, taking this opportunity to scratch more while his RIO was out of eyesight.

Thankfully, Maverick’s medicine cabinet was better stocked than his pantry. Sure, no calamine lotion, but he did have some Tylenol PM. Bingo. Goose shook out two pills and carried them back to the pilot, who was now itching so hard he looked near epileptic.

“Seriously, stop scratching, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Goose cooed. He held out the two pills. “Take these.” Maverick took them without even asking what they were. Goose explained anyway. “They’re Tylenol PM. In 20 minutes, you’ll be out cold. Can’t feel itchy if you’re sleeping.” He plopped down on the couch next to Pete.

“Thank God,” he whined. “Better living through chemistry, I guess.” He took another tentative sip of water, staring at the ground. “How did I even get chickenpox anyway? Nobody at TOPGUN is sick.”

Goose blanched. He gulped. “Yeah, about that…” Maverick glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Bradley’s got it. He must’ve given it to you when he and Carole came to visit a few days ago.”

Maverick smoldered. He wanted nothing more than to smack Goose upside the head, but he loved his “nephew” (and his RIO) too much to lash out. Plus, he knew how much it meant to Goose to see his family. 5 weeks was a long time to be away from two people you love more than anything.

“Sorry.”

That apology was more than enough. “It’s fine. Is he doing okay? And Carole?”

“They’re both fine.” Goose fiddled with the corner of Maverick’s blanket. “I miss them.”

Maverick gave a long, slow blink. The medicine was starting to work. Everything had gone wonky, like a record played at the wrong speed. “I know you do, Goose. They miss you too.”

“Just a few more weeks,” the RIO whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. He lost himself briefly in memories, of his first dates with Carole, the day Bradley was born, his first steps. He’d been there for all of that; how many memories was he missing while he was here in Miramar, and his family… wasn’t?

Something landed on his shoulder, wrenching him from reminiscence. He turned to look at what it was. He saw short, dark, tousled hair. Maverick had finally passed out, with his head on his RIO’s shoulder no less. Goose reached over to tuck Maverick in more snugly. Even through the sleeve of his shirt, he could feel Maverick’s low-grade fever.

“Sleep tight, Mav,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. The pilot hummed in response, already deep in dreams of jets and open skies.

#sicktember #sicktember 2021 #top gun

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wild-springflower · 5 years

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First Impressions

I can’t get past the theory of Buck’s dad being an abusive asshole. So, here’s a thing I wrote where the team find out firsthand!

It’s a perfectly normal morning for the 118, nothing has gone catastrophically wrong yet and they are riding that shred of hope all the way through what is promising to be a good breakfast, if the smells wafting from the small kitchen area are anything to go by.

It had been a while since they’d gotten a chance to actually sit down and enjoy their meal, as they were being sent out on one call or another. Not that any of them would complain about their jobs, it just would be nice to enjoy non-microwaved food every once in a while.

Chim is in the middle of telling a story from his last call that both Eddie and Hen had missed, involving a guy who had dabbled, perhaps a little too much, in a less than legal substance, and had subsequently gotten his hand stuck in a toaster.

“So, we just walked onto the scene, and he starts screaming down at us to ‘hurry up!’ I mean, I thought he was dying based on how hysterical he was. And we get up there to find the guy had accidentally switched the toaster on while trying to get his hand out of it!”

Hen doubled over, not caring about laughing at some poor idiot who she knew was okay, because if he wasn’t Chim wouldn’t be telling the story. “Oh my god, no.”

Eddie shook his head, smiling and laughing as well, even Bobby gave a chuckle from his place in front of the stove. It had been a while since they’d all been like that, just siting and having a good time with one another. Except they were down one number.

Eddie’s thoughts had barely drifted to Buck when his phone buzzed, “Speak of the devil.” He said to himself, voice unheard over the uproar of laughter when Chim informed everyone that this moron forgot how toasters worked and didn’t know he could just unplug it to make it turn off.

Buck’s message was short, and to the point: Running late

Something about it didn’t sit quite right with Eddie, Buck was one for embellishing his texts with dorky emojis, or at least several punctuation marks too many.

“Well I guess it wasn’t that funny.” Chim commented, waving his hands in Eddie’s direction, “Yo, earth to Eddie.”

“He just got a text from his boyfriend, he’s a little preoccupied.” Hen heckled him.

“Buck’s not my boyfriend.” Eddie shot back immediately.

A devious smirk captured Hen’s lips, “Did I mention Buck? Chim I don’t remember saying Buck.”

“You most certainly did not say Buck.” Chim played along easily, smiling broadly at the expense of his teammate.

Eddie’s ears burned and he ducked his head in embarrassment but was thankfully saved by Bobby interjecting into the conversation before it could devolve any further.

“Where is Buck anyway?”

“Yeah, Buckaroo’s normally one of the first here.” Chim stated, looking around almost as if they had somehow just missed an entire member of their team.

Eddie shook his head, still looking at his phone, “He said he’s running late.”

Hen seemed to pick up on his unease because not a second later she was leaning towards him, all traces of her earlier jokes disappeared from her tone. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, I’ve just got a weird feeling. I suppose we just wait and see when he shows up? We can always ask him if something’s going on.”

The others nodded, and as it turned out, they were not kept waiting long, as not ten minutes later a very tense looking Buck strode through the wide garage doors. He wasn’t alone however, a taller and older looking gentleman was following close behind, clearly agitated about something.

“You’ve been ignoring me for nearly a decade Evan you’ll have to grow up eventually.”

“I’m not-” Buck started, but quickly lowered his voice, “I’m not ignoring you. I just don’t have time right now; I have to work.”

Eddie stood from the couch and started slowly walking towards the stairs, he didn’t like the way his friend was acting, and the older man was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in the back of his mind.

“Oh, you have to work, do you? Big important firefighter that you are.” The man jeered, clearly amused.

The loud voice drew the rest of the team’s attention, and they all were glancing warily between each other and the scene unfolding before them.

Buck’s shoulders sagged, and he looked so exhausted it almost hurt. “Please, can we just not do this here?”

“Okay, then when Evan? When are you going to grow a pair and actually talk to me, because I’ve had enough of your constant excuses. So, when are we going to do this.” He shot Buck’s own words back at him like some sort of insult.

Eddie saw the annoyance turn to rage and a second later Buck was whirling to face the man, who Eddie had a sneaking suspicion was his father, the thought leaving a pit in his stomach.

Buck’s duffle fell from his shoulder and hit the ground with a dull thud, his arms spread wide, “I don’t know. Eventually! Okay? Just not right now! Sorry if the fact that I have a life is inconvenient to you!”

The man’s glare darkened, and the energy in the room turned almost electric. Then before anyone could really react, he had extended his arm in a devastating backhand that connected with a strong slap against Buck’s right cheek.

Buck seemed to just freeze, gasping slightly, watering eyes steadfastly refusing to move from the ground.

“Hey!” Eddie shouted, and not a moment later he was bounding down the steps, three more pairs of boots echoing behind him.

They weren’t there fast enough however, because by the time they got near their friend the older man already had the cuff of his shirt bunched up in a fist and was pulling Buck closer.

Buck’s breaths were coming in stuttering gasps, whole body shaking as he leaned as far away from the man as possible.

“You know better than to raise your voice at me.” He growled, voice low and threatening.

“Yes sir.” Buck whispered, the words seeming to fall off his tongue in a habitual monotone.

“Now what do you say?”

Buck swallowed thickly, still refusing to make eye contact, but when he didn’t respond immediately the man shook him by the collar and raised his hand again in a threatening gesture.

Eddie didn’t think it was physically possible for Buck to get any smaller, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Sorry sir.”

Eddie was on them a moment later, rage boiling in his stomach at the sight. No one, especially a father, had a right to make someone feel that way. “Let go.” He practically snarled.

“This is a discussion between myself and my insolent son. It doesn’t concern you.”

Eddie had opened his mouth to spit back fire at the man, but Bobby’s calming voice interrupted him first, “Actually it does. It concerned me the minute you stepped into my firehouse and physically abused one of my employees.” The way he said “my” sounded almost possessive, and Eddie was sure that wasn’t an accident.

“Now, let go of him before I have to get the police involved.”

Bless Bobby and his ever-present level head, if it had been up to Eddie alone, he would have socked the guy square in the jaw. He still wasn’t entirely sure that ship had sailed however, as the man had yet to release Buck and leave the station.

Several pairs of hands dove together with wonderful efficiency, Chim working to release the man’s grasp from Buck’s shirt as Hen tugged the shirt away and Bobby placed a warning grip on the man’s wrist.

They’d gotten Buck out of the man’s hold, but their friend seemed glued to the spot, vibrating terribly and blinking back tears.

Hen gripped his shoulders in her arms, gentle and reassuring, while Chim was rubbing his arm softly.

“You’re pathetic, you can’t even fight your battles on your own can you.” The man sneered, taking a threatening step forward and raising his fist.

Several things happened all at once. The moment Buck’s father moved Buck viscerally flinched, eyes squeezing shut in preparation of some sort of retribution. Chim’s grip on his arm tightened, and he was entirely ready to physically pull Buck out of there should the need arise. Hen stepped in front of him with a death glare, fully prepared to take a punch for her friend. But before she was in any danger of the fist connecting Eddie had intercepted the man’s arm and shoved it out of the way.

Bobby grabbed his phone from his pocket, Athena’s speed dial all queued up. “Chim, Hen, take Buck upstairs.” He commanded; voice strong but soft.

Buck’s feet shuffled with a gentle tug from his friends but one shout from his father had him clamming up again. “Evan Xavier Buckley, I did not give you permission to leave.”

“He’s not in your house, he’s in mine. And I give the orders around here.” Bobby said, “Chim, Hen, get Buck upstairs.”

“Come on buddy.” Chim whispered at the same time Hen softly cooed, “We’ve got you Buckaroo.” Their strong arms wrapped around his trembling form the entire way.

Eddie still stood, hands clenched in fists by his sides, and glaring icy daggers at the man. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead ages ago.

“How dare you.” He hissed, rage turning to Bobby.

“How dare him?” Eddie scoffed, “How dare you!”

“Listen you petulant child, I don’t have the time or the patience for you.”

“So, what are you gonna do? Gonna hit me too?” Eddie mocked, stepping further into the man’s personal space. “Go ahead. Hit me, I dare you. Give me a good old smack, see what happens.”

A strong hand gripping his shoulder pulled his attention away and Bobby gave him a warning look, “Eddie, that’s enough. You head upstairs as well; I’ll join you all shortly.”

Eddie stood for a moment longer and just seethed, before he scoffed in disgust and turned his back on Buck’s horrible excuse for a father.

He heard Bobby, somehow still amazingly calm and collected, telling the man that he could either leave willingly or be escorted out, handcuffs notwithstanding.

Eddie stormed the stairs two at a time and started pacing angrily in front of the couch Hen and Chim had sat Buck down on. He looked completely shut down, eyes still staring almost vacantly at the ground as his body shook.

“God, who the hell does he think he is?” Eddie practically growled, “To think he can just come in here and get away with that?”

“Eddie,” Hen called, stern but quiet, “Knock it off.” And she gestured to where Buck was sitting, shaking somehow intensified.

With a pang of guilt, Eddie realized he had unintentionally scared his best friend even more. “Buck, hey I am so sorry.” His tone immediately shifted, and he knelt down in the least threatening way possible. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. Can I sit by you?” He was treating Buck much the same way he would treat Christopher when he was younger and still blaming himself for simple accidents.

It took a moment, but eventually Buck gave a halting nod of his head and Eddie was up and by his side in seconds, swapping out places with Chimney who went to retrieve the med kit; the broken skin directly on Buck’s cheekbone almost sent Eddie over the edge again.

“Is it alright if I put my arm around you?” He knew Hen was already all over the physical support area, but he felt the need to act, at least do a little something.

Buck’s nod yes was quicker that time and it made Eddie’s heart lift, if only slightly.

“Okay Buckaroo,” Chim called, announcing his presence long before he came into peripheral view. “I just need to clean that cut up a little bit, alright?”

“Um,” Buck’s voice wavered, his eyes scrunched tight, “Can you-just um, I need a minute okay?”

Chim’s voice was gentle with understanding, “Of course, you just tell me whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah and we’re right here for you.” Hen’s words were accompanied with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. She met Eddie’s eyes over Buck’s ducked head, seeing the sadness she was feeling reflected right back at her.

Buck tried taking several deep breaths to try and calm himself, they were all halting and uneven, but his shaking quelled a little, which was better than nothing. Finally, he opened his eyes again, but his gaze remained trained on the ground by his feet. “Um, Eddie? Can I-” He trailed off, but his fingers extended to where Eddie’s hand was gripping his thigh, just above the knee, and Eddie understood immediately what he wanted.

He didn’t hesitate for a moment, gripping Buck’s hand within his own, “Of course.”

Buck’s grasp was tight, and his hands were definitely still shaking, but the support seemed to give him the confidence he needed. He still didn’t look up, but he nodded, “Okay,” He gave Chimney the go ahead.

Chim crouched down slowly, trying to make sure Buck could see him, the last thing Chim wanted was to startle his friend with any sudden movements. “Alright, so I just have to clean it and then put a little butterfly strip on, sound good?”

“Let’s do it.”

Eddie felt Buck’s fingers curl tighter around his palm, and by the look Chim sent Hen, they hadn’t missed the change either.

“Okay Buckaroo, I’m gonna be coming in, just my hands with some antiseptic.”

Eddie took it as a good sign that Buck didn’t flinch as soon as Chim’s hands got near his face, he did hiss and pull back slightly though when the antiseptic wipe was applied.

“I know.” Hen hummed in sympathy.

Chim winced, the last thing he wanted was to cause Buck further pain, “Sorry bud. Almost done.” A second later he was gently pressing two ends of a small butterfly bandage over the broken skin. He rubbed his thumb across his lower cheek, and Buck smiled up at him ever so slightly. Chim smiled back encouragingly, “All done. I think someone deserves a sucker.”

“You have one?” Buck joked, although he sounded slightly hopeful.

Their conversation was interrupted as Bobby came trudging up the stairs, and any progress they seemed to have made disappeared as Buck reverted back into himself. He quickly pulled his hand from Eddie’s and ducked his head down, refusing to make eye contact.

Eddie stifled a disappointed sigh and moved his hand back to Buck’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze to show his friend he was still there offering support.

Bobby saw Buck shrink from him and tried not to take it personally, he was the big authority figure of the station, he posed the most potential for threat no matter how small it was. The reaction still made his heart ache.

Bobby sat with a heavy sigh on the ground directly in front of the couch, eyes sad. He wanted to show Buck he was not a threat and getting below him in the least scary position possible seemed like a good place to start. His voice was gentle when he spoke, “Hey kiddo, I didn’t call Athena, but I can. She can help you press charges if you want, we won’t have any problem proving aggravated assault.”

Buck shook his head quickly, “No, no that would just-just make things worse. It’s fine, he’ll leave soon enough. I shouldn’t have yelled like that anyway.”

“Hey,” Bobby was quick to shut down that line of thinking. “First of all, this was in no way your fault. And no matter what you did, it did not warrant his reaction. You understand? You didn’t deserve that, and it’s not your fault that it happened.”

Buck bit his bottom lip, trying to quell the waves of tears pooling in his eyes once again. “God, I thought I was past that, past him. It’s been like seven years.”

Hen’s face crinkled in confusion, “Didn’t your dad say he hadn’t seen you in like, almost ten years.”

Buck just shrugged, as if to say, “that’s one way to deal with it”.

Eddie’s grip just tightened further around his shoulder, subconsciously pulling Buck as close to his body as possible. “Do you want us to call anyone? Maddie?”

At the mention of his sister’s name, Buck’s wide eyes shot up and zeroed in on where Chim was busying himself putting the antiseptic wipes away. “No! You can’t mention this to her!”

Chim blinked, before realization dawned, and a sad sigh rushed past his lips. “She doesn’t know.”

Buck shook his head as more tears followed the pre-paved trails down his cheeks, “You can’t tell her. Please Chim, she’ll only feel guilty and try to take the blame.”

“Seems to run in the family.” Hen gave Buck’s shoulder a gentle nudge.

He cracked a pitiful smile at that, and opened his mouth but Hen cut him off with a hand pressed against his lips.

“I swear to god if the next words about to come out of your mouth are “I’m sorry”, I’m-well I’m gonna hug you first but then I’m gonna be hella pissed.”

She pulled her hand away, and Buck almost cringed, not really sure what else to say other than, “Sorry?”

“Oh my-what did I just say!” Hen cried, all smiles, and pulled Buck into a tight embrace.

And if it lasted a little long or was a little tighter than was per usual, well no one was going to call them out.

When Buck pulled back his lips twitched slightly, eyes radiating silent gratitude. He sniffed and cleared his throat, “Well, Mr. Daniel Buckley ladies and gentlemen.”

Eddie gave an unimpressed shrug, “Ya know, as far as first impressions go, he left much to be desired.”

Buck barked out a wet laugh, the comment taking him by surprise. “You don’t say.”

#911fox #911 fox #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #dad!bobby #9-1-1 fox #tw: past abuse #tw: abuse

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Text

The First Time Babysitting

Category: Family Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Gaara, Kankuro, Temari, and Shikadai Nara

Gaara sat cross-legged on the floor of his sister's home, smiling slightly as he watched his eight-month-old nephew sprawled out on his belly fervently coloring in a coloring book. The boy still hadn’t grasped the concept of staying in the lines yet, but any time he grabbed the book and held it up for his young uncle to see, Gaara made a point to act as if it were the greatest work of art he had ever clapped eyes on. Shikadai would giggle excitedly and then resume working with gusto. I can’t believe he’s almost a year old already, the Kazekage thought with a small sigh. Next thing you know, I’ll be old…

“Hey, squirt, throw some blue in there,” Kankuro called to the child with a small smirk. His elder brother, and his advisor, was stretched out on the couch with one leg up and his hands behind his head, watching the little boy in amusement. Shikadai blinked up at him, glanced down at his pile of crayons, and stared thoughtfully at them before grabbing the blue one and holding it up to his other uncle. “Yeah. That one!” Kankuro affirmed, and Shikadai grinned before scribbling madly all over the depiction of a puppy he was currently filling in.

“Ugh, I can’t believe this!” came an irritated cry from the kitchen. Gaara and Kankuro both turned as their sister Temari walked into the room wearing an annoyed expression. “Guys, I’m sorry, but I just realized that there were a few things that I left off the shopping list for dinner tonight. You don’t mind hanging out here while I go get them, do you?”

“Nope. Means I can catch a nap,” Kankuro mused and promptly rolled onto his side to face the back of the couch. Gaara narrowed his eyes slightly as Temari walked across the room and leaned down to pick up Shikadai.

“Come on, you’re going to go shopping with Mommy,” she sighed as she lifted the boy into her arms and squatted down to begin cleaning up his coloring workspace.

“Temari, you don’t have to take him. Kankuro and I can watch him,” Gaara offered. Part of him was just being polite, but another part of him really hoped that she agreed; even though Shikadai was already eight months old, he had never actually babysat his nephew for any extensive amount of time. At his brother's offer, Kankuro made a choking sound and abruptly say up with wide eyes. Temari narrowed hers.

“Are you sure?” She asked, her expression betraying hesitation. “I’ll be gone for an hour or two, and Shikadai is a handful sometimes…”

“If I can handle leading the Allied Shinobi Forces to war, I can handle babysitting a toddler,” he frowned up at her. Kankuro whined loudly and flopped back into the couch cushions, but made no move to openly object. Temari glanced down at her precious baby, weighing the options, then nodded and stopped down to set Shikadai back down onto the rug.

“All right. Let me get my things together, and I’ll explain what you need to do,” she agreed and walked out of the room. Gaara smiled at his young nephew and reached out to gently poke him in the forehead.

“Looks like you and I are going to be getting to know each other better.” He grimaced and hurriedly withdrew his hand as Shikadai clamped his mouth on his index finger; slightly disgusted, Gaara wiped off the baby's saliva on his hand while Kankuro snorted with laughter.

About fifteen minutes later, Shikadai was sitting in a high chair banging a plastic spoon around while the two brothers stood with their sister in the doorway.

“Okay. Make sure he eats all of this. He’s picky, so it may take a while,” Temari instructed as she held a jar of baby food out to them. Gaara took it with a nod. “Are you sure you guys don’t need me to explain how to change a diaper again?” She asked with raised eyebrows.

“Come on, Temari, it’s not that hard. We can do it,” Kankuro frowned as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked doubtfully at the toddler. Temari sniffed, but did not refute him.

“He shouldn’t want to take a nap until after I get back, but on the off chance he does get tired, he usually likes a lullaby before you lay him down into the crib,” she added with a fretful look at Shikadai. He heard Kankuro mutter, “I am not singing to that brat.” “Make sure not to feed him too fast, he may get a stomachache. If he does, I have medicine-"

“Temari,” Gaara interjected with a small smile. “We'll take care of him. Promise. Leave it to us.” Temari blinked at him, then sighed deeply and nodded slowly. Then, with a small wave to her child, she bowed her head to her brothers and exited the house. Gaara closed the door after her, and turned to look at his nephew, who had begun screaming and bouncing in his high chair.

“What have you gotten us into?” Kankuro groaned, then hastily ducked as Shikadai flung the spoon at the front door. The boy laughed hysterically as the utensil landed into Kankuro's brown hair. Gaara smiled and clapped his brother on the back before gripping the jar of baby food and proceeding into the kitchen. Kankuro cursed before following after him with the spoon.

“Okay, Shikadai, it’s time to eat,” Gaara said as he opened the tiny jar and retrieved the spoon from his brother. He scooped up a small spoonful of the party substance and held it to Shikadai's mouth. The boy blinked, then abruptly cried out and flung the spoon away. Gaara jumped as pureed peas and carrots splattered across his face and into his hair. Kankuro blinked, then fell to the floor in a hysterical fit of laughter, while Gaara sighed deeply and cleaned off his face with a napkin. “Shikadai. You have to eat this. Your mother said so,” he frowned and tried again. This time, Shikadai flung the spoon into Kankuro's face, which made him feel slightly better about the whole situation.

“Oh, come on, you little brat,” Kankuro frowned as he wiped his face off with a black sleeve. Snatching the jar and spoon from Gaara, he scooped up the baby food and held it out, but far enough out of Shikadai's reach that it would not be flung a third time. The baby stuck out his tongue before turning his nose up at it.

“I think we have to convince him it’s good,” Gaara frowned.

“What? Ugh, fine,” Kankuro grumbled before chomping down on the spoon. Gaara raised an eyebrow as a visible shudder ran from his brother's toes to the tip of his hair, but to his credit, he swallowed and forced a smile. “See, it’s good. Now eat it,” he huffed and tried again. Shikadai stared at it thoughtfully before inching forward and opening his mouth obediently. Laughing lightly, Kankuro put the spoon in his waiting mouth, and Shikadai ate it and smacked his lips together, a little bit of the baby food leaking out of his mouth.

“Well, that’s a start,” Gaara sighed as Shikadai looked expectantly up at Kankuro and opened his mouth again.

“Yeah. It’s kinda cute,” Kankuro smiled lightly and spooned more of the mixture into the baby's mouth. After that, it was quite easy to get Shikadai to finish off the jar, and after cleaning up the toddler’s face they brought him back into the living room and set him down on the rug. “Now what?” Kankuro blinked as they both stared down at the baby, who was sitting on his behind staring right back at them. They both cried out in alarm as he abruptly began to wail.

“Ah! What’s wrong with him?” Gaara cried.

“Don’t ask me!” Kankuro yelled back. Shikadai raised his hands to his eyes as he cried harder, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

“Waaaaaah! Maaaamaaaaa!” he sobbed.

“Eh? He wants Temari!” Kankuro realized, then, with a strained smile, he reached out and awkwardly patted Shikadai's head. “Your mom went to the store. She’ll be back soon, Shikadai. Don’t you want to have fun with your uncles?” Shikadai screamed so loud that Gaara’s rang and slapped Kankuro's hand, making his brother scowl and snap his arm back, cradling it against his chest. “What do we do?” he hissed to Gaara.

“Uh… Uh… What do babies like? Oh!” he gasped and covered his face with both hands. “Peek-a-boo!” he cried and revealed his face, leaning forward. Shikadai stopped wailing and stared at him miserably, sniffling with snot running down his face. It’s working. Gaara covered his face again. “Where's Shikadai?” he asked, then uncovered his face and shot forward again. “There he is!” Shikadai jumped, then giggled and waved his arms in excitement. The toddler then turned to Kankuro, who just stared. Gaara nudged him roughly in the ribs with his elbow.

“What? Oh, man. Fine,” he sighed and covered his face. “Wherrrrrre's Shikadai?” he asked, then repeated his brother's actions. “There he is!” Delighted now, Shikadai laughed uncontrollably. Grinning, the two brothers took turns playing peek-a-boo with the little boy until they were both panting from the effort and Shikadai had fallen onto his back and was kicking his stubby feet into the air. Abruptly, they both wrinkled their noses as a foul smell wafted up from the baby's diaper.

“Oh no,” Gaara frowned as he straightened up.

“I guess we have to change it,” Kankuro nodded. They retrieved the diaper bag Temari had left for them and settled Shikadai on his back on the floor, then frowned as they gazed hesitantly down at the task at hand. “Uh. You do it!” his brother cried and thrust the clean diaper at him.

“You’re the older one. You do it,” Gaara shook his head and thrust it back. Despite what he had said to Temari, this seemed to be a much bigger problem than he had anticipated.

“What happened to ‘I led the Allied Shinobi Forces; I can do anything’?” Kankuro shot back in a mocking voice and slammed him in the chest with the diaper. Gaara felt the wind get knocked out of him, and now that his pride was bruised, he glared at Kankuro and snatched the absorbent underpants haughtily and situated himself in front of the cooing baby. He felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his face as he tried to recall Temari brief instructions. Okay… First I undo these straps here, he recalled and reached down, pulling off the velcro-like straps that secured the diaper. As it dropped open, both he and Kankuro covered their noses and almost retched.

“What died?!” Kankuro wailed with watery eyes. Gaara steeled his nerves and glanced back down at the soiled diaper, having found a new respect for mothers and his sister, and held his breath as he returned to the task. Quickly, he grabbed Shikadai gently by the ankles and lifted him up to wipe his little behind and replace the soiled diaper. Kankuro quickly wrapped it up and jumped up to dispose of the vile thing into the outside trashcan, while Gaara wrestled with placing the new diaper on his nephew.

“No, stay still,” he huffed as Shikadai started to roll onto his belly. Struggling with the straps, he looked up unconfidently at his brother when he returned, who grabbed Shikadai under the arms to hold him up. They both watched miserably as the diaper fell to the floor with a soft plop.

“Well, that’s not right,” Kankuro sighed. Shikadai blinked at them, and then the brothers cried out in disgust as the little boy suddenly decided that it was a good time to empty his bladder. Looking forlornly down at his wet front, Kankuro laid the boy back down and tried to hold onto the last shred of his patience. “You are as annoying as your father,” he grumbled as he snatched up another diaper and fumbled to put it onto the wriggling child. After a few more tries and another unexpected bath, they managed to produce an acceptable product.

“I never want kids,” Kankuro huffed as he watched Shikadai stack blocks on the living room floor. Gaara pulled at the collar of his uncomfortably wet shirt and nodded in agreement. By the time their clothes had dried, they were wondering where Temari was. Suddenly, Shikadai yawned loudly and looked at them, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Tired,” he mumbled and promptly flopped over onto his side. Gaara sighed and rose to his feet to walk over to the baby and lift him into his arms.

“All right. Let’s get you to bed,” he huffed and stepped gingerly over the scattered blocks to walk to the baby's bedroom. He flipped on the lights and walked over to the crib, laying him gently down onto his back and putting a stuffed animal beside him. Shikadai screamed in protest and launched it at the red-haired man's face. “What? What did I do wrong?” Gaara shouted and picked the boy back up, holding up the crying baby.

“Didn’t Temari say something about a lullaby?” Kankuro called from the doorstep. Gaara glanced back as his older brother walked into the room and took the young boy out of his hands and propped him up on his chest. Frowning awkwardly, he began to bounce slowly back and forth while humming a soft tune under his breath. Shikadai cried for another minute or so, then began to settle down as Kankuro paced the room and hummed louder. Soon enough, the boy was snoring softly with his head propped on Kankuro’s shoulder.

“Whoa. You’re not half bad at this,” Gaara remarked as his elder brother laid the sleeping child down in the crib, then straightened up and stretched his arms over his head to crack his back.

“Jeez, who knew babies were so heavy?” he groaned, then yawned loudly and cracked an eye open to gaze thoughtfully down at their nephew. “… You know, I don’t think having a kid would be half-bad either.” Gaara looked down at Shikadai, with one arm around a stuffed animal and the other held up by his face as his slept soundly.

“Yeah,” he smiled softly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Temari cursed under her breath as she propped the bag of groceries against the front door and fumbled for the keys.

“I can’t believe I got carried away talking to Sakura… Those boys must be ready to pull their hair out!” she sighed as she retrieved what she was searching for and unlocked the door. The house was strangely quiet as she entered, and she raised her eyebrows as she walked to the kitchen and set the bag down. She walked into the living room, where the only evidence of her son was the blocks scattered across the floor. She stopped down to collect them in her arms and dump them into the nearby toy chest and then stood, putting her hands on her hips. Where are they?

On a hunch, she walked down the hall and found the door to her son's room closed. She gently turned the doorknob and poked her head inside, and then smiled softly.

Her son was snoring softly in his crib. On the floor, her two brothers were sprawled on their backs, dead to the world. Little fools tried their hardest, didn’t they? She thought as she tip-toed into the room and walked over to the crib. She watched her son sleep for a moment, then leaned down into the crib to press a kiss to his forehead. She straightened up and looked down, then smiled and squatted down beside each of her brothers, kissing them on their cheeks.

“Sleep well, my boys,” she murmured before rising to her feet and exiting the room, quietly shutting the door behind her and walking back to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

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taekookismylifeline · 6 years

Text

(yoonseok) - trust my heart when it beats for you

ao3: (x)

Summary: Jung Hoseok has had an awkward Thing for Min Yoongi for four years of his school life. He is certain that the only thing that gets in the way of them and everlasting love is the fact that Min Yoongi doesn't know he exists, but that all changes due to one drunken text message: a pick-up line. Ready to flee to another country under a false identity in mortification, he finds himself ruining their blossoming friendship and confessing when Yoongi asks why Hoseok had tried to flirt with him. However, things take a turn after his confession when Yoongi starts to (awkwardly) flirt back.

Pairings: Yoonseok, Taekook and Namjin

Chapters: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9)

Chapter Ten - it's a game of words but, baby, i'd always put you first

“You’re kidding!” Taehyung yelled in his ear the next day. The two were hanging around Taehyung’s bedroom with the radio blaring. Hoseok was sitting at the foot of Taehyung’s bed, his crossed legs were balancing a bowl of crisps, while Taehyung moved from his side to pace around the room. “He said that to you!? Min Yoongi?” He let out a burst of slightly hysterical laughter which Hoseok related with on every level.

Taehyung collapsed dramatically onto the floor without warning and threw a hand over his forehead. “I can’t go on anymore.” Hoseok laughed and threw a crisp at him which landed rather impressively in Taehyung’s mouth, he nearly choked. He sat up and spoke, whilst chewing, his voice was tinted with disbelief: “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“I’ve been living on Cloud Nine ever since yesterday,” Hoseok attempted to put his giddy feelings into words. “You should have seen him, Tae. He looked so nervous, like he was scared of me, but then he comes out and says it bluntly. He’s so cute, and adorable, but deadly. Maybe he actually did kill me, and I’ve just dreamt it all in the flashback of my life.”

Taehyung crawled over to him to nab a few chips, there was a bright smile written on his face. “Maybe he killed me, too, and I’m dreaming with you. Though, if it were my dream, Jeongguk would be here and we would be holding hands-”

“-Or sucking dick,” Hoseok quipped with a playful smile on his face. Taehyung raised an eyebrow and smirked causing Hoseok to let out a ripple of loud laughter. “Speaking of, you know for certain that Jimin isn’t dating him, are you gonna make a move?”

Taehyung cocked his head, considering it, before scoffing. “Nope.” Hoseok pouted in response, flicking a crisp into Taehyung’s hair. “Gross, you’ve left crumbs. Anyway, I’m not gonna make a move because, first: he just broke up with his girlfriend who he’s been dating for almost a year – I checked his Facebook – and secondly, he’s probably straight. Thirdly, we’ve never talked, ever. I’ll only make a move if we all hang out and I get signals from him.”

Hoseok considered this, leaning against the wall. He blew upwards, making his fringe ruffle, this seemed to stir something in his mind as he recalled a memory: lunch time on Tuesday. “I don’t think you’ll be waiting that long, Tae,” he started and then began explaining what he had seen in the canteen. “It just kinda looked like he had been dared to... I don’t know, walk in your direction or something, and he did it. He circled around the canteen and then walked back to their table. Then Namjoon and Yoongi applauded him sarcastically and he looked kinda sad.” Taehyung frowned at him and then gestured for Hoseok to continue.

“That’s it.” He was regretting saying anything now, it was rather pathetic. “It doesn’t sound like much, but Yoongi looked up at me after saying something to Jeongguk, so maybe they were talking about what he had just done.”

Taehyung looked painfully confused. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Hoseok sighed in defeat and ate the last chip out of the bowl. “Never mind. I don’t really know what to make of it. Jus, to me, it looked like Jeongguk liked you and they dared him to go near you, maybe even to talk to you, but he was too shy so he walked past you and that’s why they were being sarcastic.”

This conclusion seemed to have changed everything. Taehyung drew himself up, a hopeful smile danced across his face. “So, what you’re saying is that Jeongguk might like me.” Just as the words had escaped his mouth he deflated. He threw his head onto Hoseok’s lap, knocking the bowl onto the floor. “I’m not even gonna get my hopes up.”

Hoseok patted his head and then laced his hand through Taehyung’s hair in a consoling motion. He picked up his phone with his free hand and read his latest notification. He snorted in laughter, releasing Taehyung to open his phone and type out a reply.

“Who are you talking to?” Taehyung asked, lifting his head to peer around Hoseok’s phone to look at the screen. “Ah, of course, I should have known,” he rolled his eyes but his smile gave him away, “look at you, leaving your best friend to talk to lover boy. I see how it is.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” Hoseok explained, smiling and pushing Taehyung’s head away from his phone. Taehyung crawled up onto the bed and sat next to him. “Look, Yoongi said he could eventually like me, right? So, I’m asking him questions to get to know him better and he’s doing the same.”

“It’s like you’re selling yourself,” Taehyung commented dryly, tilting his head until it was placed on Hoseok’s shoulder. “What are you even talking about anyway?” Without warning, he had grabbed Hoseok’s phone and was scrolling upwards, Hoseok protested but Taehyung pushed him away laughing. “Oh my god, you’re doing one of those question sheets, that’s adorable! Did you get it offline?”

Hoseok blushed but hid it in his protestations. He eventually succeeded in managing to prise the phone off of Taehyung. “You sound just like him – and, no, I made it myself.” He settled down on the bed again and went back to texting.

Taehyung cooed. “That’s even more adorable! What are you talking about now?” Hoseok eyed him warily and shielded his phone from Taehyung’s prying eyes. Taehyung tilted his head backwards and laughed. “Oh, come on, it can’t be that special!” Still, Hoseok didn’t answer him. “Have you ever talked about me?”

Hoseok snorted, practically burying himself into the screen of his phone. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. Maybe we have better things to talk about.”

His smug attitude couldn’t last long, not around Kim Taehyung. Said boy moaned in complaint and splayed himself on the bed, laying his head onto Hoseok’s lap again. “Please, tell me! What do you say about me?”

Hoseok sighed in mock-annoyance, and went to play with strands of Taehyung’s hair. “Nothing much, I ask him stuff about his friends and he asks about mine. He’s interested in the people I like, like you, always asks how you are and stuff.”

“What? Just me?” Taehyung questioned, his eyes wide.

Hoseok chewed his cheek as he pretended to rack his brain. “Yeah, now I think about it, it’s mostly just you. We talked about your music taste once, and then he asks how you’re doing, he asks if any of my friends are dating anyone, just the general stuff.” He tried to sound disinterested.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “Weird. Maybe it’s me he likes, not you.” He poked Hoseok’s cheek with a finger and it was batted away just as quickly.

“No, no,” Hoseok smiled and pinched Taehyung’s cheek. “In fact,” he repositioned his expression into one of nonchalance, “I was rather thinking that he seemed so interested because of a certain someone.”

“What? What do you mean?” Taehyung stilled, the smile fading from his face. It was difficult not to laugh.

“Oh, you know,” Hoseok shrugged. “Like how I share some parts of our conversation with you, I’m sure he does with his friends, a certain Jeongguk maybe?” Taehyung’s eyes grew wild and it seemed as if his eyebrows were about to disappear into his scalp. “And if a certain Jeongguk is interested, perhaps he’s feeding Yoongi questions. If so, is there anything you want me to indirectly ask?”

“Um, is the sky blue?” Taehyung sat up so quickly he head-butted Hoseok in the eye. He didn’t react when Hoseok screamed in pain. Taehyung’s face wore an ecstatic grin, his eyes glistening manically. “I have so many things I want to know! I feel like you talking to Yoongi for the first time! Wait, wait, before I give you questions, can I read what you’ve said about me?”

Hoseok, nursing his eye, grudgingly handed his phone over to Taehyung. “Don’t read past the point after we stop talking about you. And thanks for hitting me in the eye, by the way.”

“No problem,” Taehyung said breathlessly, cradling Hoseok’s phone like it was the new-born child of Christ. “Okay, okay, so... you say, ‘who do you consider to be your closest friends?’ and he says, ‘cute question’ – can you two just make out already? – ‘probably Namjoon and Jeongguk, maybe Jimin whenever he shows up.’ Then he goes, ‘what about you? Let me guess, Taehyung?’ Hey, that’s me! You go, ‘hahaha yeah, and Seokjin too, I don’t know why you thought I had so many friends, I’m a loser hahaha’” (Taehyung scoffed at this) “Ain’t that the truth! Anyway, so then he says, ‘yeah, you are’. Hoseok, I think I’m secretly Yoongi.”

“Ugh,” Hoseok whined, jostling Taehyung. “Stop dissecting our whole conversation! Just read the next part.”

“Fine,” Taehyung complied. “You say, ‘rude, but I can be your loser’ and then a wink emoji. ‘Seok, are you still flirting with him!?”

Hoseok tittered, slinging an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder. “Well, he did invite me to send my whole collection of one-liners, didn’t he?”

Taehyung was apparently too saddened by Hoseok’s attempt at flirting to form a response, so he promptly moved on. “He goes, ‘you’ve had better lines’ and then he says... Oh my god, ‘does Taehyung flirt with his girlfriend as badly as you try with me?’?” Taehyung’s voice broke with how high he had risen his tone. He looked to Hoseok with incredulous eyes. “This isn’t... Min Yoongi wouldn’t write this,” he concluded, his mouth widening into a bright grin.

Hoseok nodded slowly as it dawned on Taehyung. “You’ve seen the light!” He remarked, throwing in a menacing cackle. “Jeongguk likes you-” And then it fully registered with Hoseok. “Jeongguk likes you, Tae, oh my god-” He was cut off by Taehyung throwing himself at Hoseok, they both collapsed onto the bed in a pile of limbs and denim.

“You know what I should do?” Hoseok got out eventually after the two had finally climbed down from their high. He detached himself from Taehyung, pushing his hair from his face and reaching for his phone where Yoongi had replied. “I should ask Yoongi if we should all meet up.”

“What?” Taehyung shot up, the smile still shining on his face. “Like, all of us? Me, you, Yoongi and Jeongguk?”

Hoseok nodded, a surge of confidence flooding through him. He was silent as he composed the message before turning his phone around to show Taehyung, tempting him. “Should I do it?”

It was a question that didn’t even need asking. Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining. “Do it, do it, do it.”

He didn’t need any encouragement, Hoseok pressed send. His message was read and after a few agonising minutes he received a reply.

Jung Hoseok: it’s nice talking to u on here but I feel we should do it irl Jung Hoseok: we should meet up with friends! but let’s not make it too crowded Jung Hoseok: if u wanna meet up, I’ll bring Tae u bring Jeongguk?

Min Yoongi: yeah, I get what you mean Min Yoongi: sounds cool, I’m sure he’ll be down Min Yoongi: wanna meet tomorrow?

Jung Hoseok: oh yay!!!! Jung Hoseok: but i’ve already met my tomorrow, my today and my yesterday ;)

Min Yoongi: they’re progressively getting worse

Jung Hoseok: nooo :( they’re all equally as good!

Min Yoongi: *bad

Jung Hoseok: okay rude Jung Hoseok: I’d like to see you do better

Min Yoongi: is this a challenge? Min Yoongi: or your indirect way of getting me to flirt with you?

Jung Hoseok: OMFG Jung Hoseok: not intentionally Jung Hoseok: challenge accepted?

Min Yoongi: I’ve never flirted with anyone before so it’ll be tragic Min Yoongi: then again, so are your attempts Min Yoongi: so, yes, challenge accepted Min Yoongi: ;)

Jung Hoseok: that winky face got me all flustered boy

“Hoseok!” Taehyung yelled, nudging him with his toe. “Stop flirting and get to the point, are we meeting or not?”

Hoseok was dragged back into reality and realised that he had diverted himself from the task at hand.

Min Yoongi: there’s more where that came from Min Yoongi: ;P

Jung Hoseok: seriously, stop now its damaging to my health im too flustered Jung Hoseok: anyway as much as id love u to send me another emoji Jung Hoseok: r we on for tomorrow? Jung Hoseok: ;)

Min Yoongi: yeah, Jeongguk will be fine with it Min Yoongi: and im fine with it, but not as fine as you Min Yoongi: ;)

Jung Hoseok: oh, Min Yoongi u don’t know what uve signed up for Jung Hoseok: when we do this how far can we go Jung Hoseok: like sexual innuendos and stuff Jung Hoseok: r u okay with that?

Min Yoongi: you’re so precious Min Yoongi: thanks though Min Yoongi: yeah, I’m fine with it, are you?

Jung Hoseok: yeah babes, im down for lots of things ;) Jung Hoseok: im always up for u though

Min Yoongi: I did not expect that so quickly but here we are

Jung Hoseok: well u know what they say

Min Yoongi: expect the unexpected?

Jung Hoseok: no Jung Hoseok: expect things to come quickly ;)

Min Yoongi: I’m not sure if that was flirting or you trying to tell me that you’re premature

Jung Hoseok: WOW Jung Hoseok: I didn’t say i was any good at this!!

Min Yoongi: that’s why you should stop

Jung Hoseok: I cant :( Jung Hoseok: ive gotta go now babes :( Jung Hoseok: Tae is now bleeding and ive gotta play paramedic

Min Yoongi: kinky ;) Min Yoongi: have fun, make sure he doesn’t bleed to death Min Yoongi: otherwise Jeongguk might be disappointed tomorrow

#yoonseok #yoonseok fic #yoonseok fanfiction #sope #sope fanfiction #sope fic #taekook #taekook fanfiction #taekook fic #namjin fic #slow burn #bts fanfic

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hamilkilo · 7 years

Text

Origins

Prompt: part 4 of Brawl in the Streets, the reader is super wasted with the Hamilsquad and unlocks their origin story. Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader TW: cursing, drunk, alcohol, crying, mention of sex, second hand embarrassment(???), reference to masturbation, really funny origin story??? A/N: here's PART 4: BRAWL IN THE STREETS!!! I hope y'all enjoy! I was excited to write this! Thank you for all of your love and support! I love y'all! If you want me to tag something, let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please enjoy! Word Count: 1875 "Hey, hey, guys, hey..." you called out from the couch, where you were facedown. "I've got a knock knock joke." The boys were quiet, waiting for you to say it. "Go ahead," Alex finally instructed. "Okay, okay..." you paused, thinking. "Wait, why are they called knock knock jokes? Do people even knock anymore? Why is it not ding dong jokes? Have we not evolved?" "Oh my gosh, just tell the joke!" Herc groaned, and you laughed into the couch cushion. "Okay, knock knock," you started giggling into the couch at the joke you were about to tell. A chorus of who's there's rang out. "H-How many wiener dogs does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" "I don't get it-" Laf began to complain in a really harsh French accent. "None! They can't reach that high!" You began laughing hysterically. So hard, in fact, that you were moderately concerned you'd piss your pants. "That wasn't a knock knock joke!" John complained, and you rolled your eyes before you turned over and sat up. They had turned out the lights, and the tv was playing behind you. The bright light had gotten more annoying the drunker you'd gotten. "I'm bored," you complained, and John chuckled. He was sitting on the couch with you, just a drunk as you were. "We could change that, y'know," he drawled in a suggestive voice, and you blushed. He crawled toward you on the couch, and you squeaked before you fell off the couch. You landed on the floor and started laughing, the boys joining you. "Do we have any more beer?" You asked from the floor, thirsty. "We are not giving you any more alcohol!" Herc said, "You're so wasted!" "Am not!" You argued, and you tried to get up off the floor, but you wavered and fell on top of John on the couch. "If you wanted me that bad, you coulda just said so, Princess," he purred to you, and you giggled. "You wish," you teased before you snuggled into his shirt. "You smell good." He laughed this time and put his arms around you, holding you on his chest, "Only for you, darlin'." "Let's play truth or dare!" Alex suddenly called out. Lafayette quickly shot the idea down, "Non! Alexander, last time we played, you dared me to suck 'Erc's-" "And you did-" "Well, I didn't want to lose!" They squabbled, and you laughed, but you were also confused. "Wait," you said, and they both looked to you, "I thought you two were together... but you," you pointed to Laf, "sucked Herc's... peep...?" "Yeah?" Alex questioned, and you pulled your chin back into your neck in confusion. "So, I don't get it...?" Alex looked over at Herc, who looked to John, who looked at you, and they all started laughing. "You're so cute," John cackled, his chest vibrating beneath you with each peel of laughter. "I know... but that doesn't answer my question!" You looked up at him from your cozy spot, and he was looking down at you, making little crinkles in his chin where you could see a shadow of stubble growing in. "Sweetheart..." Herc trailed off, and Lafayette took over. "We're polyamorous," he explained. That's when it all made sense. Everything clicked together. "Ohhhh, I get it!" You smiled to yourself and nuzzled further into John, who gripped you tighter. You pulled your legs up closer to your body, straddling him effectively, but still hella comf. "So how long have y'all been together?" John began to run his fingers through your hair, "Hmm, I'd say romantically, about three years? It started out with just me and Alex... We'd all been friends for years before, but I really really liked Alexander-" "Aww, babe, you had a crush on me? That's embarrassing!" Alex exclaimed from the other sofa, obviously referencing Parks and Rec. "Shut up, Alex!" John threw a pillow at him. "Anyways, so we hooked up. Then, a few months later, Alex explained to me that he loved me, but he also had feelings for our favorite Frenchman, Laf, and at first, i was like, whaaaaat? Then, I realized that I had a lot of pent up gay in me and that I really liked him too, but we didn't know how he felt about us... For some reason, we actually thought he was straight...?" "It's funny because I'm actually the gayest!" Laf happily exclaimed from his spot between Alex and Herc. You laughed, and Herc wrapped his arms around him. He gave Laf a kiss on the cheek. "We know." "But, one night, before we knew how aggressive Alex was with truth or dare, we played it, and Alex dared Laf and I to make out, and that went about how you'd expect..." John trailed off and his hand twitched in your hair like he was back in that moment. "That's when they realized I'm ultra gay!" Laf slurred, his thick French accent almost making it unintelligible. "You're like a straight boi, but instead of saying no homo though, you gotta cut in and add no hetero to the end of like every sentence," Herc chuckled as he fiddled with Laf's fingers. "C'est la vie, 'Erc. Let me live," Laf complained, and Herc laughed again. "It's cute," he reassured his boyfriend. Laf cooed and turned to share a sweet kiss with Herc. You almost wept. It was just so damn cute. "It was shortly after that when I composed a letter, conversing with John at the same time, declaring how profusely I loved Laf, and how John and I wanted to have a relationship. I poured my heart into that letter... it was my everything. Heart and soul. I felt like the minute he'd open it, the skies would part, and the angels would start singing... God is there. He's weeping-" "'Is 'andwriting was messy, and I could barely speak English! 'Ow was I supposed to read the sloppy, pretentious, wordy ramblings of a sleepless man?" Laf protested from the spot on the couch. "It was beautifully crafted!" Alex protested, and Laf pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I know, mon amour, that's why I 'ad 'Erc read it to me." He smirked, an inch from Alex's face, and Alex closed the gap this time. "So Laf hands me this leader with no explanation and is just like 'read it!'" Herc mocked in a terrible French accent, and Laf scowled at him, "And I read the letter, spoiler alert, Alex and John are super gay, but I didn't get all the way through. I was under the misconception it was for me, so of course I rushed to Alex's apartment, only to find he wasn't there; he was having dinner at the Washingtons' with John-" "Wait," you interrupted, "didn't the letter address who it was to?" Herc scoffed, "It said 'to our dear friend.'" "I'm sorry, but Marie‑Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette is a lot to write for a header!" Alex shot back. "That's not the point!" Herc huffed, "The point is, I busted into the middle of the dinner, professing my love for them in return like a bad rom com, telling them, and the Washingtons, how gay I was for them, and those assholes just cackled!" "It was cute!" John laughed as he recalled the memory, earning a scowl from Herc. "It was mortifying!" Herc replied, covering his face with a hand. "At this point, I 'ad used Google Translate to interpret this letter since 'Erc just rushed out of the room in an 'urry, and God did not cry when I read it en Français. So I rushed over to this dinner as well and interrupted 'Erc's speech with my own." "At the very end," John begins to explain in between fits of laughter, but he can't get it out. He was laughing way too hard. "Martha gives a standing ovation and cries out, 'Oh, George! What a lovely performance! It was like a little dinner theatre! Lovely!' And George just goes, 'No, Martha, this was unplanned.... They're all gay for each other.' And those two assholes," Herc scoffed, "Were laughing so hard that we thought they'd piss their pants!" Alex is laughing with John at this point, but you're completely engaged in the story. "So all of us were so confused, and John and I had to go have a talk in the bathroom, and we concluded that we loved Herc too..." "It was a very confusing time..." John explained as his laughter quieted down, and you patted his chest soothingly. "So we come back out to find that Martha had downed the entire bottle of wine in celebration, and George had gone to bed, all within the span of like, two minutes. He had congratulated the other two, but said he knew it would happen eventually, and he had business in the morning. And like a badass, John opens his arms and says-" "Welcome to the Hamilsquad!" John shouts, and you almost fall off his chest in surprise. Everyone is laughing at this point, even yourself. These boys were too cute for their own good. "It gets better!" Laf exclaimed, and Herc roared with laughter. "Martha, drunk off her ass, shouts 'When y'all gonna fuck?' And George shouts down from the bedroom, 'Not while I'm in the house, boys!' And I fucking pissed myself!" Herc guffaws, losing it again. You're laughing so hard that you're light headed at this point. "He didn't actually piss his pants," John elaborated, causing you to laugh again. "This has been a wild story, and I just wanted to make sure you knew he didn't." It took a few minutes, but everyone managed to calm down. "So when?" You finally asked, and Herc snorted. "That night," John answered beneath you, and he bucked his hips in a mock thrust, causing you to slide and squeal. "And we've been in love ever since," Alex added dreamily like the end of some sappy movie, and Laf laughed. "I loved you before, mon cher," he purred as he grabbed Alex by the collar and pulled him in for another kiss. Suddenly, you felt a rush of emotion. You'd always been an emotional drunk. You bursted into tears, completely startling John. "Y/N? What's wrong? What is it?" He ran his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. "You guys are so in love... like, you all love each other so much, and I've got a vibrator at home with half dead batteries to come home to every night!" You were also an oversharer when drunk. The boys laughed, but stopped when you kept crying. John rubbed your back soothingly. "Don't worry, Y/N," he whispered, "You've got us." "Promise?" You sniffled, and John nodded. Then, in a really, really quiet whisper, he says, "I'd go straight for you." That one sentence is the first thing you remember when you wake up with a huge hangover in the morning, and it brings forth a question. Was he joking, or did he really mean it? Somehow, you'd developed a crush on these boys. You wanted the love they had. You wanted to be in the Hamilsquad. What had you gotten yourself into?

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