#(and from three--ring's tags noting the prev tag they saw:)

[nyanbin]

ღ infrunami — p.wb

03. awesome cool bros of apt 7a

꒰ EPISODE LENGTH ꒱ 2.2k words (oops...me when dat exposition pill hit)

꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ texts at the end of the chapter! also i took it upon myself to change the blog names on my taglist based on who i saw replied/asked!! so if you changed your blog name lmk if you want a diff blog to be tagged or if you would like me to remove the one i put :D

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𖦹 APR. 28 (YEAR 1, SPRING) — 6:42 PM

FROM YOUR SPOT BY THE WINDOW, you eye your potential roommates at their table across the café, observing the three of them as they chat and bicker. One of them, a taller boy who looked to be the youngest of the three, was in the middle of swatting another boy’s hand away as he tries to steal a piece from the pastry on his plate.

Was this really going to be your future?

Begrudgingly, you have to admit to yourself: Eunseok was right, after all. This was an almost ideal situation. A nice building you were already familiar with, relatively low rent, and your friends living right down the hall. It’s just… three male roommates? You must be crazy to be even considering it. 

But you’re not really in a position to pick and choose at the moment, because every other place you’ve looked at until now has been… subpar, to say the least. And you didn’t know how much longer you could withstand your current living situation: third-wheeling your roommate and her boyfriend for almost two-thirds of your day, every day, was not exactly a fun time. 

This was the best you were gonna get. How bad could it be, really?

Steeling yourself, you downed the rest of your drink and got up from your chair to make your way over to them, your hands clutching the strap of your bookbag.

A single thought rings through your mind the whole way there: God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

None of them seem to notice when you approach their table, so you lightly clear your throat to get their attention. The first one you make eye contact with is the one you assume to be Wonbin, the doe-eyed boy who you had singled out to Eunseok earlier as “the one with the cute face.” With him in front of you now, you grimace inwardly. You would’ve never in your life confessed this thought to Eunseok if you had known you would meet him, let alone possibly end up living with him. When Wonbin notices you, he raises his eyebrows, blinking up at you. It’s a subtle gesture, but it has you nervously flitting your eyes to the other two boys’ faces, who are now also looking at you with similarly slightly surprised expressions.

You try a smile and a small wave, eyes scrunching in what you hoped looked like friendliness. “Hi… so—”

“Hey! You’re Eunseok’s friend, right?” One of the other boys speaks up before you can get another word out. “He must’ve told you we were here, too. I’m Sungchan, by the way; nice to meet you!” He has a toothy smile plastered on his face.

Flustered by his eagerness, the script that you had written in your head in preparation for this interaction dissipates into thin air. You blink at Sungchan for a few moments before coming up with a response. “Oh, um, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

The other two boys introduce themselves to you as well. The one to the left was the one you had correctly assumed to be Wonbin. His introduction is curt, just his name spoken with a single corner of his mouth upturned. In the middle of the three was Anton, who seemed slightly more bashful, but still personable with the way he smiled up at you. Remembering his name from your conversation with Eunseok redirects your mind to the matter at hand, and now you’re trying to find a way to break the news to the three boys.

“I don’t know why Eunseok never introduced us!” Sungchan continues as you deliberate your options. ”I’m glad you did it yourself, I was worried he might never do it. And I don’t know what he’d do if we had approached you ourselves.” He ends his thought with a short, nervous laugh.

Wonbin, who you have been avoiding eye contact with the whole time, seems to realize you’re still standing over them, nervously fiddling with the strap of your bag. “You can sit, you know,” he murmurs, gesturing to the only empty chair left at the table.

You hesitate, but then nod sheepishly before taking a seat. Wonbin looks at you as you do so, as he sips on the straw of his drink, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. On the other hand, Sungchan and Anton seem eager to get to know you, seemingly having forgotten their current commitment. 

Looking at their enthusiastic expressions, you figure you should tell them now or you might never get to, so you speak up before they can say anything. “Hold on, just—give me a sec,” you take out your phone and show it to them, the screen opened up to your text messages with the unknown number you now know to be Anton. “You guys are here for the apartment, right?”

They all lean in, peering at your phone screen. You watch their eyes flicker down as they read the messages, biting your lip as you await their reaction.

“Huh? So you… you’re the one who texted?” Anton asks first. “Oh my god, I forgot we were even here for that. I figured they just weren’t gonna show up after waiting for so long.” 

“We told you, Anton! You should’ve at least figured out their name first!” Sungchan says, chastising Anton with a light slap to his shoulder. “Now, look what’s happened. Hey, at least this got us to finally meet, huh?” he continues, turning to you, laughter lacing his words. Wonbin seems to find it amusing, too; he has a slight grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah…” You inhale through your nose, exhaling as you say your next few words with uncertainty. “Well, I’m still interested, actually.”

The three of them stare at you, dumbfounded. “You still… want to move in? With us?” Sungchan asks slowly. His mouth is slightly agape, but the corners of his mouth are upturned in bemusement.

“I know, I know. I almost just gave up and left without talking to you guys when Eunseok said it was you three,” you say, hurriedly trying to explain yourself. “But, listen, I’ve been looking for a new place for ages and this is literally the best one I’ve found, and I don’t know when—or if—I’m gonna be able to find one as good as it. And I hate to have to plead my case, but I promise I’m a really good roommate, like the best! If it helps, Eunseok would be living, like, 50 feet away from us and I’m friends with the other guys, too! I just really, really, need this…” 

The three of them blink at you as you add a final, desperate, “Please?” They then turn to each other, and you sense they might have wordlessly agreed to something. Sungchan holds a hand up apologetically as they all stand, saying, “Sorry, give us a minute. Bro huddle.”

“That’s not a thing. We don’t do that,” Anton says, shaking his head, a frown on his face. He’s still waving his hands in denial as he’s pulled into the huddle. “Don’t listen to him.”

With their backs turned to you, Sungchan decides in a hushed voice. “So… she seems cool. I vote yes.”

“Dude, we’ve barely just met her,” Wonbin retorts.

“Well, yeah, says the one hardly even talking to her.” Wonbin opens his mouth in protest, but Sungchan continues without letting him defend himself. “Besides, if she’s friends with the other guys, I’m sure she actually is cool.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s just—she’s a girl, you know?” Wonbin says. When the other two boys squint their eyes at him, he waves his hands, hurriedly saying, “I didn’t mean it like that! I just feel like living with a girl would be completely different. I mean, have any of you guys lived with a girl?”

They all pause to ponder his point, since, after all, he was right: none of the three boys had sisters. Then, Sungchan’s eyes light up and he snaps, remembering something. “Hey, didn’t you live with your ex before, Wonbin?”

“What?” Wonbin raises his eyebrows at him. “Do you mean the trip I went on with her family? All we did was sleep in the same house for like… three days.”

“That’s basically living with a girl!” But Wonbin, obviously, is still not convinced.

“Well, I think she seems nice, too,” Anton interjects. “And I feel like she’d be a better roommate than the both of you combined.” He shrugs as the two older boys shoot him a glare. “I’m just saying; I don’t see how this could be a bad thing. If anything, she’s the one who practically poured out her heart and soul to us. We have no reason to turn her down!”

“Dramatic much?” Wonbin teases, and Anton scrunches his nose at him with a pout.

“In any case, that’s a 2-to-1 vote, Wonbin,” Sungchan declares. “You lose.”

Wonbin sighs, defeated. In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure why he was against you living with them. Like Anton and Sungchan, he found your demeanor to be actually quite charming, and he could easily see himself being friends with you. Yet, there was something about you that made him feel… nervous? Skeptical? Whatever it was, it was evident in the fact that he had spoken very little since you had approached them. But he chalked it up to him just being unfamiliar with you, a friend of a friend who had just offered to be their new roommate, and that whatever he was feeling would fade away soon.

Still seated at the table, you watch them murmuring to each other, nervously drumming your fingers against the tabletop. They break off the “bro huddle”, returning to their seats with serious expressions as if they just came from a very important executive business meeting.

There’s a beat of silence as you await their decision, and then Anton says, “Alright, you’re in.”

“Really?!” you exclaim, thrilled despite your apprehensiveness just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, just to make sure, though,” he says, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, “you’re certain about this, right?” 

It dawns on you they’re probably looking out for you, since, even though this apartment checks a lot of things off your list, a girl living with three guys was still not the most ideal living situation. But this considerate gesture makes you even more appreciative of your future roommates, so you eagerly assured him, “Yeah! I’m one hundred percent sure!” (Definitely an overestimate, in retrospect.)

“Okay, cool, let’s talk details then!” Anton exclaims, clasping his hands together and setting them on the table. He goes into a spiel about what to expect once you move in, talking about things like the rent, the fussy old landlord, and how the garbage disposal has been broken for weeks now but they’re all too lazy to call a plumber so they resort to shoving a broom handle down there whenever it gets backed up. (A little concerning to you, but, hey, if it works!)

“Oh, and one last thing: you’ll have a room to yourself, obviously, but you’re gonna have to share a bathroom with Wonbin. Is that fine with you?”

You glance at Wonbin, who gives you the faintest of smiles. Ironically, he was the one you felt the least at ease with at this point, given his lack of engagement compared to the other two, but you had zero inclination to complain about such a small thing now. Besides, you were sure that this arrangement would somehow force the two of you to bond, in one way or another. “Yeah, I’m cool with that. My apartment right now only has one bathroom so I’m pretty much used to it.”

“We can show you around the apartment some time this week, if you want! When do you think you can move in?”

“Well, I’m busy with classes at the moment so I don’t think I’ll have enough time until, maybe, around the end of the week?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Anton proclaims, smiling with his eyes. Sungchan excitedly offers you an outstretched hand, ready to seal the deal, and you take it with a smile. You glance at Wonbin expectantly, but he still doesn’t say much, just offering a soft, quiet “congrats”, before leaning back into his chair. He seems content with being mostly an observer as you, Anton, and Sungchan get further acquainted with each other, only chiming in every now and then to make an offhand comment or give a brief response to one of your questions.

Sungchan, at one point, half-jokingly asks, “Okay, real talk though, who do you think’s the most attractive out of the three of us?”, causing Anton to jokingly grab the front of his t-shirt as if to fight him in your defense. To your surprise, Wonbin joins in, playfully wrapping an arm around Sungchan's shoulders in a half-headlock and ruffling his hair with a fist. Sungchan cries out in complaint, eliciting a fit of giggles out of you, your shoulders shaking as you watch the three boys grapple at each other.

It’s not something you would’ve expected from yourself half an hour prior, laughing and getting along with three boys who you had not only just met, but who were also going to be your new roommates within the week. But, hey, you figured that things change, right?

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꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ this took forever me to write for no reason sawryyy 😭 it also turned out WAYY longer than i was expecting but what can i say i am a yapper at heart (p.s. spot the new girl reference? :3)

꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ open! leave an ask or comment to be added :) (strikethrough = can’t be tagged)

@parkwonbinie @icyona @yoursyuno @onlyhyunjin @naviiy @eepiestgirl @jvngw0nlvr @i03jae @started-with-f-ends-with-uck @annswwa @secretiny @pxnklover @yipyipmorals @mumeimei @planethyuka @soheendo @film-sea @suzayaaa @molensworld @revehosh @winuvs @wonychu @shoberi @nujeskz @swagpersonthings @byeonwooseokabs @5telephones @gyehyeonist @snowyseungs @pinklemonade34 @bunni @fae-renjun @enhacolor

[glossysoap]

ready to comply vii - Желание

Желание or longing, is defined as ;

a strong desire or craving especially for something unattainable.

warnings/tags: 141 mourning reader

prev chapters here!

word count: 2,165

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @undercover-smutlover @nickangel13 @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000 @zittles3000 @thriving-n-jiving @mar-mar-mel @kitty-satan1 @namgification @ivymarquis @crazy-phan-girl13 @goodsoup03 @schaarfyx @rhyanna6012 @abbiesxox @kenz-ee (if ur name is scratched out, it means tumblr won’t let me tag you, sorry!)

Eight weeks have passed since your disappearance that day on January ninth. Eight weeks since the task force had last seen you in person before you had been tricked into boarding that helicopter — that helicopter that would soon prove to be your downfall.

Six weeks since the Task Force learned of your disappearance and saw it all happen for themselves. Six weeks since they watched that devastating footage of you getting stabbed on that helicopter before it sunk to the ocean floor. Six weeks since they heard your cries and screams of pain and saw your face scrunched up in agony.

Six weeks since you were pronounced killed in action.

Six weeks since the task force had started mourning their medic.

Six weeks since a hole starting digging in the chests of Simon and Johnny.

Six weeks since they made the trek to your empty quarters, a trek that really only lasted a few minutes but felt like thirty.

Six weeks since the two men walked into your quiet room and took notice of all of the memories left behind. The medical records and sticky notes. The picture frames full of the three of you together. The scented candles that decorated your dresser.

Six weeks since Johnny fell asleep in Simon's arms and the two men held each other tight — holding what little they both had left.

Constantly suffering restless nights, tossing and turning in your bed. The two men would suffer nightmares for weeks on end after you died.

Johnny would dream that he was forced to watch the footage of you dying over and over. He would be in that conference room again, tied in a chair and the footage would be playing from the projector on an endless loop. He would be forced to witness the woman stabbing you over and over again. He would be forced to see the blood pool from your chest and soak your uniform. Your screams would ring out in his head, somehow getting louder with every loop. Your screams of agony would morph into cries for help as you wailed his name.

“Johnny, help me! You said you would protect me!”

His sleeping face would quickly mirror yours in the dream, scrunched up in pain with tears streaming down his cheeks as he tossed and turned.

Simon would immediately rouse from his own sleep the second he heard Johnny’s whimpers and felt the Scot thrashing beside him. His heart would sink in his chest when he realizes that his boyfriend was having a nightmare. He would be forced to yank him from his nightmare, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him up. He would quietly call his lovers name, letting the timbre of his voice bring him back to reality.

Simon would take him into his arms and rock him gently, stroking his hair. He would feel wetness on his shirt as the sergeant cried into his chest.

“Why did they have to die? Why couldn’t I save them?” He would sob into Simon’s chest, throat becoming raw.

Your cries for help would echo in Johnny’s head for days following every nightmare.

Simon on the other hand, would dream of all of the people he’s lost in his life. His mother, his brother, his brothers wife, and little Joseph. All bloodied and mangled, their dead bodies strewn across Simon’s living room. Eyes wide and mouths gaping open in a silent scream, faces frozen from their last dying breath.

And just like every other nightmare, Simon couldn’t move. It was as if he was standing in quicksand, getting pulled under with every step he tried to make.

Although in these nightmares, you were there too. One of the last people he ever wanted to see like that, save for Johnny. Your bloody body was there, strewn along with his murdered family. You wore the exact same uniform that you wore that day in Russia, still all tattered and stained crimson. You lay limp on the carpeted floor, blood steadily pooling around you, flowing from the stab wound in your abdomen. Your hand was clutching the open wound, blood pooling out around your hand. Your mouth was gaping open in a cry for help, coughing and gurgling as crimson trickled out of your lips. Your eyes were wide open in terror and glossy with tears. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped and sobbed, looking straight at him. Your hand that was clutching your abdomen moved to reach out to him, fingers shaking.

Your hand was drenched in your blood, and suddenly all he could think of were all of the times he held your hands before losing you. How he would squeeze it in his rough hand, comforting you when you were anxious and grounding you to reality. How he would grip your smaller hand in his large one while the two of you snaked through a crowd of people, not wanting you to get separated from him.

The hand that he loved to hold so much was now covered in blood. Blood that he could never scrub clean no matter how hard he tried, blood that tainted the hand he would never get to hold again.

“Why did you let me die?”

Simon would jolt awake from his nightmare every time, your words echoing in his head. He would be covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Your hurt and accusatory voice would follow him for weeks after that nightmare. Blaming him for not saving you, for not being good enough.

Those nightmares never stopped for Johnny or Simon.

Six weeks had also passed since the two men began to take over your empty room as theirs, without even meaning to.

Bringing their blankets and pillows to sleep there at night, before cuddling together in your bed. Desperately inhaling the sheets, burying their faces in your old comforter trying to find some remnants of your scent only to come up short every time. Their hearts grew heavier and heavier with each attempt.

Coming back to your room after every mission instead of returning to their own rooms — kicking off their boots and yanking off their gear and tossing it in your old dirty laundry basket. Still wishing that you would be waiting for them when they opened your door, wishing that you would be hunched over at your desk working on reports or curled up in your bed.

Constantly wishing and wishing. Constantly reminded that you were never coming back. That you were dead and gone. Cold and rotting somewhere in Russia.

Alone and scared.

As more time passed, your room had become filled with their belongings and their own musky, woodsy scent. Your small personal touches were accompanied by their own trinkets. Their history books and sketch pads now sat on your book shelves. Soap’s art supplies sat on your desk, right next to your dried out gel pens that you used to write medical reports with. On your nightstand, Ghost’s skeleton combat gloves laid next to your old earbuds. A carton of cigarettes and a black lighter sat in your drawer, next to medical magazines that you had collected over your years of studies.

Your closet was filled with your clothes that hung on hangers, collecting dust and becoming cold. Scrub tops in navy blue, with your name knit on the breast pocket in white thread. Civilian clothes, like the muscle tops you enjoyed exercising in, or flannel jackets that you loved to wear in the cold weather.

The worst part was that when they took a fistful of your old shirts and sniffed them, all they smelled was fabric. None of your usual scent of rubbing alcohol or (perfume/cologne) notes of vanilla and mint. Your scent wasn’t ingrained in the clothes anymore.

Their throats would tighten as if wrapped with barbed wire and tears would prick their vision every time when the realization hit them that they would never smell your scent again.

Your desk that used to be covered in medical records, was now riddled with mission reports that they needed to complete. The few picture frames you kept on your desk was now overtaken by their own picture frames. Even your fragrance that flowed from a plug-in started fading away, covered by their own cocktail of teakwood and gun smoke.

The two men had been so desperate to keep your presence alive in some way, that they took to burning your candles every day. Every single day, for weeks on end. Until the wax was gone in all of them and only the wick remained.

Whenever they left on a mission and didn’t have the luxury to stay in your old room, they made sure to bring a keepsake of yours.

Simon would carefully stuff your favorite scrub cap into his luggage, the (favorite color) fabric bringing a sense of familiarity and homeliness wherever he traveled. Whenever he saw it in his duffel bag, he would remember all of the occasions that he saw you wearing in.

The very first time he met you, you were wearing that very scrub cap. He remembered it as clear as day.

You had been working in the med-bay, finishing up an emergency surgery when Price introduced you to the task force. You wore a shy smile, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you looked up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes. You were intimidated, he could tell. Behind the skull mask and black paint, you couldn’t see that he was just admiring your raw talent as a surgeon. That memory was ingrained in his brain, you standing there all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

He chose to remember you that way. Instead of remembering how you looked on January 9, eyes wide in terror and mouth open as you screamed in pain. Blood pooling from your abdomen and drenching your uniform.

He chose to remember you as being innocent and unharmed, not terrified and brutally murdered.

Johnny would snag one of your old pens and stuff it into his duffel bag — it was one that had some ink left and he would use it when he sketched. The rubber grip on it still had indents from you holding it for months on end, writing reports and surgery summaries.

He could remember it so vividly. You would always have it in a vice grip whenever you were burnt out, burning the candle at both ends to get reports submitted. Whenever you were anxious or bored, you would spin the pen in your hand, twirling it between your fingers.

He found himself doing that too whenever he was stumped with a sketch. He would catch himself twirling the pen between his fingers just like you used to, and he would pause and chuckle. Warmth would flood his chest at the memory of you. Carrying the pen with him made him feel like he was carrying a part of you with him with every pen stroke.

What the two soldiers treasured the most, though, was their favorite polaroid of you. It was a candid shot, one where you were caught off guard on the field. You were still wearing your scrubs and you were covered in a sheen of sweat. Your hand was reaching up to wipe a drop of sweat off of your forehead before it hit your eye. You were laughing at one of Simon’s awful jokes when Johnny snapped the photograph at the perfect moment, capturing the crinkle of your eyes and the quirk of your lips into a smile.

It captured you in the best way, unabashedly happy and vulnerable. Not worrying about getting injured or taking care of others. Just pure bliss and joy. Whenever the boys looked at the photo, warmth flooded their chests and their lips quirked up into a rare grin.

That photo is easily their most prized possession, the thing they cherish the most. While they might carry different items of yours with them on missions, they always find a way to share the photo. Whenever it’s Simon’s turn to keep it, he would have it folded delicately in his gear jacket pocket, making sure the pocket is zipped up. Whenever it’s Johnny’s turn to keep the photo, he would fold it carefully into a square and place it in the vest pocket directly over his heart. He would make sure it was secure in that pocket before patting it tenderly, as if he was carrying you around with him on the mission.

Whenever they carried that picture around, that’s what it felt like — like they were carrying you with them. So they held that picture close to their hearts, just like you held space in their hearts when you were alive.

All they could do was hold onto all the memories, and refuse to let them go. Burnt out candles, surgical journals, your favorite scrub cap, and that damned photograph. That was all Simon and Johnny had to hold onto for a year.

next chapter

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[ashiemochi]

aphrotitty - xxxvi

✠ Aphrotitty ↳ Don’t do anything stupid ↳↳ does something stupid

~~ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ~~ genre: fluff, a slice of life, angst, gore at some point, smut/suggestive themes ~~ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

prev -> next

The thirty-sixth time Leon saw her, it was a Tuesday noon; about five days since that video call. It was windy and gloomy, but no rain which he found comfort in – and he knew it would be temporary as it would rain later tonight. His microwave dinged, vocally announcing that his food had finished reheating; it was leftover pizza from yesterday.

Leon took his plate, not even bothered by the heat of it and sat down by the window with an apple beer. As he started eating, his eyes glossed over to her kitchen window. He was a bit surprised at not seeing her waltzing in her kitchen and cooking something he had never seen nor tasted at this time of day.

“Wonder what she’s up to today...”

✠✠

The culprit was sitting in her living room, fingers pressed to her head at the faint ringing in her ears.

“Fuck...” A hiss left through her teeth, eyes shut tightly as the tips of her fingers massaged her temples, hoping the ringing would subside.

It’s been around a week since So Ah had last taken any of her medicine and she was sure she’d get a refill by the end of this month too.

The withdrawal effects were shit; constantly waking up to faint annoying screeching in her ears, micro-sleep where she’d blink and suddenly find herself on the ground with aching knees, and the worse of all; night terrors.

They don’t even make any sense but she’d always wake up with a huge sense of dread and fear then would breakdown at how everything about her body was disgustingly weak.

A knock at the door brought her to reality and her eyes snapped open. She wasn’t expecting any visitors. She stood up and went to answer the door, trying to ignore the ringing in her head. Swinging the door open, she blinked at the lady in cardigan in front of her who held a nervous smile.

“Hi, So Ah.” Diane’s voice came out hesitant and her hands were wringing with one another, “Are you free for some coffee? At my place?”

✠

So Ah shifted against the soft couch, keeping her eyes wandering around unlike someone else whose eyes are dead set on hers; it was the little kid she had always seen in Diane’s yard.

It was her first time in Diane’s place, finding it completely furnished and polished despite having two kids living in the same space as their mother’s; not to mention, a bunch of medals, trophies and certificates were either hanging on the wall or displayed on the shelves.

“I’m sorry for the unannounced coffee invitation.” Diane’s voice came back as she walked into the room and sat the tray of two coffee mugs down on the table. She then took her seat next to So Ah on a different couch and smiled a small one at the girl.

“It's fine.” So Ah replied, glancing at the staring kid once again then looked at Diane, “It’s never too late for coffee.”

Diane let out a breathily giggle, nodding then looked at her three-year-old son.

“Marcus, go play with your sister, okay?” She suggested and her kid, Marcus, nodded animatedly as he walked up to her side.

“Can we play tag?”

A soft smile reached So Ah’s lips at that.

“Sure, sweetie, just be careful, alright?” Diane pressed a sweet kiss on his head and he ran off, leaving Diane and So Ah alone.

So Ah stayed silent, watching Marcus pick up a stray toy off the floor then disappear. He reminded her of her nieces and she realized how much she missed seeing them.

“Being a mom is a blessing,” Diane sighed contentedly then smiled, “It has its tough times but seeing them growing and nurturing makes up for it.”

“I agree.” So Ah said then turned her attention to her coffee, taking a small sip; unintentionally leaving Diane a bit more tensed up at the small responses.

“So Ah, I...” Diane trailed away just as she started and So Ah looked over at her, “I deeply apologize for my behaviour last time.”

Diane’s eyes looked down at her mug in shame, “It wasn’t in my intentions to hurt you or hurt... Leon, it’s just...”

Words stopped forming and she sighed then made eye contact, “Ever since I was a child, my folks pushed me to become better; to stand out. They signed me up in these out-of-your-league courses, put me in scouts and made me participate in many extracurricular activities...”

Diane’s parents were perfectionists with such high egos that every little slip-up Diane would do, she’d be grounded and or punished. Growing up in such a religious and overly-ambitious household, she was forced to become one of them.

She had trophies in playing numerous instruments, medals for running track, certificates for exceeding in all of her classes, and of course, badges upon badges from being in the girl scouts.

With such treatment, Diane grew up thinking she deserved everything and anything all the time; wanting to know all things about anyone new and assuming the worse when she doesn’t get what she wants.

Hence why she was the self-proclaimed neighbourhood lady, but little did she know, everyone around her in said neighbourhood could see how passionate she was about wanting to keep things under control; even trash raccoons stopped showing up as much.

So Ah felt bad for Diane having to go through such rough childhood to get where she was now and she was still having a hard time letting go of the past; going to her weekly therapy sessions to assist her in her journey.

“... And for that, I’m sorry.” Diane apologized and held her breath as So Ah’s silence was deafening. Her fingers curled around her mug at the tension in the air, taking in a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to acc–”

“I forgive you.” So Ah interrupted and Diane’s glassy eyes widened at the soft smile that So Ah offered, “I know how strict parents can be, so I’m glad you’re trying to break off that ‘tradition’.”

Diane let out a breathily chuckle, wiping away her fallen tears, “Yeah, it’s – it’s tough.”

“I can only imagine.” So Ah set her hand onto Diane’s to comfort her, “Are you... Are you still on talking terms with your parents?”

Diane shook her head, “Not as much. I still talk to my siblings and from what I’ve been told, they haven’t changed one bit.”

So Ah frowned at this, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Diane smiled at that, setting her hand on top of hers, “I’m thankful that you’ve forgiven me, I’ll try my best from now on to not project my ideas onto anyone.”

So Ah gave her a toothy smile before an idea popped in her head, “Well, there is one thing you could do...”

“What is it?” Diane tilted her head in confusion.

“You could invite Leon sometime and actually get to know him,” So Ah suggested, noticing Diane tense up just the slightest, “He may look intimidating but he’s actually pretty nice,”

Diane went quiet for a second before humming, “Alright, I’ll figure something out.”

✠✠

Leon was heading out to throw his trash when he caught a glimpse of So Ah leaving Diane’s house, talking with a smile while Diane nodded with the same smile. He raised an eyebrow as they both said their goodbyes and So Ah began making her way across the street. His eyes landed on Diane who looked nervous at his gaze then she disappeared inside her house.

“Oh, hi, Leon.” Her voice took his attention with ease and he returned the smile, throwing his trash into its bin.

“Hey,” Leon greeted, “You guys friends again?”

So Ah giggled before nodding, “You could say that.”

Her smile seemed more content than ever but her eyes were a bit dull than the usual shimmering soft ones. He didn’t say anything though, thinking she was just under the weather. It was a gloomy one after all.

“Well, neighbour,” She broke the staring contest with blazing cheeks, “I’ve got a project I need to finish, so,” She made her way towards her door, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Man, was he whipped.

[idkcantthinkofaname]

It takes time/5

Paring: BTS X reader

Gene: angst, future smut

Warning: mention of violence, blood I think that is it?

Summary: after finally getting the house y/n always wanted, she find a hybrid hiding in an old shed. Unlike most people who find strays, y/n doesn’t turn him into h.c mainly because there was a lot of shady things that happened with the hybrid control in the area.

Note: also ateez is tagged because they will be involved later on in this.

Prev

——————————————————————————

Jimin smiled as he was walking back towards the cabin. Y/n was going to make Tae’s and his plan go smoothly. They knew namjoon and Jin would catch on pretty quickly where Jimin got the food. If the other caught the scent of her, there was no way namjoon could keep them away from her. Jimin was ready to be out of that cabin. Yes, he like the woods but he would also like to sleep were it was warm and had food there. Did he enjoy the hunt? Yes, him and Tae worked well hunting but it’s hard during the winter to catch food. Y/n was a perfect human to live with. He was sure of it, she was to nice for her own good.

Jimin’s ears twitched, there was sounds of foots steps near by...more then one set. He froze and looked around. He inhaled deeply. There were about five other scent, human scents all surrounding him. “Well, well what do we have here?” Said a man with a raspy voice. “See boys I knew that peacock hybrid hide there at that women house, and now look she even feeding this fox.” The man grinned as his companions walked out. Each armed with weapons. Jimin tail swished back and forth. So these were the ones that hurt Jin. He smirked “looked like I’m going to have some fun then?” Jimin knew he could out run all of them. He would have to leave the food behind so he could run in fox form.

A blonde headed man jumped first at Jimin, in a flash Jimin threw the container into his face as he did a back flip over the man that came at him from Behind, these human were to easy. As he landed, the man that had spoke had thrown a chain at him. As it wrapped around his leg, Jimin flinched and landed hard onto the grown. The chain had nails attached to it, digging into his flesh. The man launched at him. Jimin flipped from his side over to kick the guy in the face. As he tried to get the chain off the blonde one was on him. “Thought you were slick?” He pulled the chain to tighten around Jimin a leg. Jimin winced, but he allowed himself to get dragged to the blonde.

“Oh I am.” Jimin smirked gripped the chain dragged the blonde to him and managed to wrap it around his throat. The other men had their guns pointed at them. “This is enough play little fox” said the tall raspy voice. “ we don’t want to damage that pretty pelt of yours, and we know you can changed into a fox.” He smiled “James! Get this thing off me!” Yelled the blonde before Jimin tighten the chain where he couldn’t breathe. “Listen, you really think these guns will stop me?” Jimin smirked.

James aim the gun at him “let’s find out.”

——————————————————————

Night falls as everyone gathered at the cabin. “Ah, Jimin running late again.” Sighed Hobi as he sat down onto the couch. Tae, on the other hand was pacing back and forth, rubbing his chest as he did. “Tae, sit down you are making me nervous.” Said yoongi. “Something isn’t right, something happened.” Said tae. He knew something went wrong. Yes Jimin went to Y/n it was part of the plan, even tho TAE was the one that wanted to go to her, but Jimin had volunteered him to help namjoon. It was a way to get back at him for kissing her. Tae smiled at the memory. He shook his head. There was an unsettling feeling in his gut that things went wrong. “Tae?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at him. When tae or Jimin acted funny when the other wasn’t around was bad. Tae looked up to namjoon “Something isn’t right joon.” Tae’s eye screamed they needed to act. Joon nodded. “Let’s go.” They all headed outside. “Does anyone know where he went off too?” They all looked at each other “did he tell anyone why he was doing today?” Joon yelled “we are supposed to make sure someone knows where we are going!” Yoongi crossed his arms and gave Tae a pointed look. Tae started to walk off into the forest “Tae!” Joon yelled “he went in this direction.” Tae stated. He continued to walk with the group behind him. He wasn’t going to say that Jimin went to y/n just yet. He had a feeling something went wrong and he didn’t want to three brutes to think she did it, if they did then their plan wouldn’t work. But something went wrong, he could feel it, Jimin was hurt. He changed into a fox and ran. He needed to find Jimin and make sure he was okay. They other followed him, and soon they picked up on his scent, and blood a lot of it.

They came to a clearing, as they changed back into human form, they noticed human scents along with Jimin. “Looks like there was a fight.” The searched the whole area. Jungkook walked where there was a lot of blood “there is a lot of blood here, like someone got shot...I can’t tell who was cause Jimin and another human scent is here together.” His fist were clenched. Someone hurt his pack mate. “Why would they attack him in the middle of the forest tho?” Asked Hobi. He knew that h.c searched the forest from time to time but never during the winter. Not without a reason too. Jungkook looked down...there was a scent...something familiar.. he had been near one of the.....”IT WAS HER!” he yelled looking right at tae. “IT WAS THAT HUMAN YOU AND JIMIN BEEN VISITING!” He pointed at Tae. Tae stood there wide eyed. Namjoon and Jin looked back and forth between them.

They couldn’t be talking about y/n?

Jungkook growled. He knew she was the one. She had been talking to two men that one morning. He was shaking with anger “Jungkook calm down. Who are you talking about?” Yoongi question. “ that human girl that Tae and jimin went off to visit several times! She had been talking to two men the other morning. Both those men scent is here. They attacked Jimin and she helped set it all up!” Joon anger rose quickly “See Jin, I told you, you couldn’t trust her!” He stared Jin down. Jin looked between all the members. He knew she couldn’t have done this. She was to sweet. There had to be something else to explain what happen “she wouldn’t have done this, we need to find Jimin.” Jin was staying as calm as he could. “Obviously hybrid control has him!” Screamed Jungkook.

He was loosing himself to his anger. They went to this little humans house, and like idiots they thought they could trust her. Now Jimin is injured and taken by H.C. Jungkook closed his eyes, all he wanted was to rip her throat out. He couldn’t even hear the members say anything. The ringing in his ears was to loud. The wolf he was, alpha and protector was screaming at him to take action against the one that did this. Before anyone realized what was happening Jungkook took off towards her house.

He was going to avenge Jimin.

Jin’s blood drain from his face the moment he saw jungkook turn towards y/n’s house. Jin took off full speed to try and get to jungkook first before he got to her. Y/n life was in danger now. Namjoon and Yoongi were on jungkook tail, but they were not going to stop him. Hobi ran along side jin “Hobi we have to stop them. I know y/n isn’t involved with this?” Hobi looked at him without missing a step “how do you know jin? You have been wrong with people before.” Jin still pumping as hard as he could. “Trust me Hobi, when you meet her, you will know she isn’t capable of this.” Hobi looked forward. Humans have done some awful things to them. But could this girl be able to do this?

Jin knew he wasn’t going to make it, the three predators were much faster then him. He could only hope y/n wasn’t home tonight!

——————————————————————————

Next

Tag list

@beach-bitch-bitch-beach @ghostkat23 @jiminslye @4evahevah @vantaescupid @calling-dips-on-j-hope @jennyjq

If I missed anyone forgive me! I’m going to start writing a list of people that wants to be tagged, so I won’t miss anyone!

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 16

:D

Chapter 16: Villain

-

P. Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

-

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Wally stirred around in the bed, patting around the bed to look for his phone. After a while, he found it, flinching harshly when he found it and dared to check the time within the dark room. 

5:30 in the morning. 

Getting up, Wally noticed Amira missing from her room, deciding to look for her. 

Unsurprisingly, he found her in the kitchen, baking. 

“Want to talk about it?” Wally asked, sitting on a nearby stool. He watched Amira continue to knee the bread dough, her lips pursed as she ignored him. “Want to talk about something else?”

The pregnant silence in the kitchen remained there until Amira spoke moments later. 

“Please.” Amira practically begged as she whispered, her kneeing stopping. 

“Say no more. Remember when you left me here alone? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Bridgette! She’s the most adorable baby there is! And can you believe she actually held my hand? She held it for like two seconds. Two seconds!”

Wally went on to talk about the time he spent with Bridgette and how next time he will bring her some toys to play with. 

He watched as Amira’s shoulders began to sink back down, her kneeing becoming less aggressive and the furrow of her brows less tense. 

Wally made a mental note of investigating what caused Amira to have nightmares again. 

After all, it’s been months he last saw her stress baking because of one. 

What caused her to have one now?

-

Marinette appreciated the cold wind in her face, allowing her to forget the events from this morning. 

She didn’t think video games would give her flashbacks of the days she used to play them with Jason. Days where they would stay up all night playing them until Alfred caught them or the days Dick would join them and then whine when he would lose.

Memories she believed she had deeply buried within her mind only for a Victim to bring them back with ease. 

Days she missed dearly and wished badly for…

But the past was the past and there was nothing she could do to bring Jason back…even if she wanted to...

Stopping at the bottom of the school steps, she let out a deep sigh before going up the stairs, hoping to forget the vivid dreams of last night.

Just as she had a small plan on how to get rid of them, the moment she stepped into the school, she knew something was off. Something was interrupting the equilibrium and she hated that.

Shaking the feeling off, Amira headed to class, taken back by the small decorations in the classroom. 

The windows were decorated with paper snowflakes, red and green ribbons draped around the yard. 

“What’s all this?” Marinette asked herself, preparing herself for the upcoming school day. Keeping her scarf, she put away her coat and a few textbooks she didn’t need. 

“Dudette, do you really not know why the school is decorated this way?” Nino asked, closing his locker. 

“No be honest, no.” A gasp came from the other side, Chloé appalled at her. 

“Dupain-Cheng. Christmas is just around the corner! How did you forget that!”

“Christmas?” Marinette repeated, wondering how she missed the holi-

Oh...right. “I...I don’t really celebrate it.” Marinette admitted, then remembering the last time she ever spent Christmas with her Grandpere and father...and with Jason… or rather...without him...

“Marinettte, are you-” Sabrina was about to ask if she was okay when the bell rang.

Now with a tense atmosphere, the friends made their way to their classroom, Chloe feeling miserable as she watched Marinette zone out throughout class.

During chemistry, the girl excused herself various times, making Alya having to do most of the work herself.

“What’s bothering her?” Adrien asked Chloe, noticing that she too was acting strange since that morning.

Pursing her lips, Chloe let out a sigh as she began to label the diagram in her textbook.

“I may have upsetted her.” Chloe admitted. “We were talking about how Christmas was right around the corner. I asked how she forgot it when she told me she doesn’t celebrate and then...she just...went quiet.” Chloe trailed, letting her pencil fall out of her hand. “Adrien, I messed up.”

“You didn’t know she would react like that.” Adrien replied, watching as Marinette walked back into the room, apologizing to Alya as she sat in her seat. “So you apologize for it.”

“Okay, so I apologize for it, but how do I prepare for the next time? I don’t know what I said that made her...well, change.”

“It might have been old memories.” Adrien quickly supplied. “Perhaps relating to her family.”

“Her family?” 

“Well, this is just a theory,” Adrien started, hoping that he was semi-right. “But I think Marinette came to Paris to move on.” Chloe arched a brow.

“Move on?”

“Well, when we first met, she mentioned having siblings.”

“Siblings? As in more than just Bridgette?” Chloe asked, remembering seeing the tiny baby when they had gone to visit her while she was sick.

“Aside from Bridgette, Marinette did mention having two-one other siblings aside from her.” He corrected himself. “But as far as we know, we know nothing about them. Never talks about them either.”

“Wait, you said two before changing to one. Why?” Crap.

“Well, that's where things get a bit complicated. When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.” Adrien said quietly, looking at his book with great interest. “Her eyes became dull, just like how they look like now.”

Chloe processed the information, looking over at Marinette. To think she knew so little about her good friend. Chloe hit the table with her head, letting out a groan. “Don’t worry Chlo. She’ll understand if you just ask her.”

“I hope she does.” Chloe said, lifting her head.

Class went on and shortly later, Mlle Mendeleiev began to tell the class to pack up. With the ring of the bell, everyone went onto their next class or lunch, Chloe missing the opportunity to talk to Marinette.

Sighing, Chloe picked up her things and went to have lunch with her father as they had promised to do that morning.

---

Marinette huffed as she sat across from Adrien, taking out a notebook that was heavily encrypted in code. 

After all, she didn’t want anyone else to know she was Ladybird and that she had narrowed her suspicions onto one man possibly being Hawkmoth.

“I heard what happened this morning.” Adrien said, flipping a page from his own book, Marinette noticing the odd language in it.

It looked eerily...familiar. Where had she seen that book before?

“I’m guessing Chloe told you.” Marinette continued, flipping a page in her book of evidence. “She doesn’t need to apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. She didn’t do anything wrong, I did. I shouldn’t have gone silent like that. I didn’t explain to her that-”

“But it’s because she didn’t know that she should ask what made you react the way you did. For future reference. And to avoid making the same mistake.” Adrien said, looking up from his book. “Of course, you don’t have to specifically tell her-”

“It’s because of my brother.” Marinette cut off, closing her book and looking straight at Adrien. “This will be the first Christmas...since his death...a Christmas without him...” Marinette trailed.

He was right? But wait...first Christmas without him? If they were siblings, surely the two would’ve celebrated various Christmas together...right?

“When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.” 

Moved on…

Marinette did move from Gotham to Paris, remembering that she used to go to Gotham Academy. Surely the two had to have been greatly involved in each other’s lives if Marinette remembered her brother dearly; they had to have had a tight relation with each other. To be attached to each other-

 “-to the hip.” Alfred’s words finished off for him.

Wait...what was it he had said after that?

“Even after the two were taken by different families, the two went to the same school and stayed together. But when Jason died, her parents took her with them to open up their business in Paris. To start anew and let Amira recover from his death.”

That had to be a coincidence...yeah! A complete coincidence!

There was no way- but now that he thought about it...it kind of made sense.

For starters, Marinette didn’t look like either of her parents. She was of a darker complexion and has emerald eyes. 

Despite knowing French, Marinette spoke in a dialect that seemed more like Metropolitan French opposed to Parisian French, although her French also seemed to have Canadian influence as well. He remembered that during a spar of theirs, she accidentally said ‘aweille’ instead of ‘allez.’

Her English, for that matter, sounded more natural to her than her French, often hearing Marinette more relaxed when she spoke it.

Marinette also seemed to give off an aura of having already learned her materials, Adrien then remembering how she reacted to learning he was home schooled.

It seemed like she was somehow able to empathize with-

“-need to pick that up?” Marinette asked, snapping Adrien from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your phone. It’s been ringing for a while.”

Sure enough, it as, Adrien realizing it was his father. He never called unless...oh no…

Did...Did he notice?! Already?!

Quickly getting up, Adrien dumped the book he was reading into his bag and knocked the chair down. While picking it up, his bag slid down his arm and hit the floor.

Apologizing to Marinette about having to leave her alone, he quickly ran to his locker to grab his coat in case he needed to go out.

Calling his father back, Adrien couldn’t even let a word out.

“Adrien. Come home. Now.”

---

Amira blinked for a while as she still took in what had happened just seconds ago. Shrugging it off, Amira continued to look at her data when Tikki flew out of her jacket. 

“Tikki!” Amira hissed, making sure no one had seen her. “What do you think-“

“This!” Tikki shouted, Amira going under the desk to see Tikki attempting to lift up a heavy book more precisely, the book Adrien was reading. “We have to bring this to Master Fu!”

“Master Fu? What would he be needing a book like this?” Amira asked, lifting the book and opening up its contents. “It’s just a bunch of-” 

She stopped as the page she decided to open up was one that showed a man that resembled Hawkmoth, his armor grandiose yet too loud. Seriously, wings? 

Amira looked at the image, she traced the glyphs with her fingers that were near an image of what she assumed the Butterfly miraculous looked like. “Butterfly.” Amira read, only then did it click as to why these glyphs looked so familiar.

“Amira! How do you know how to-”

“I’ve seen this before Tikki.” Amira quickly closed the book to look at its cover, the crest staring back at her. It looked just like it! “Tikki...what exactly is this?” Amira asked, feeling as if she just stumbled upon Pandora's Box. 

“I can’t tell you here.” Tikki said, looking around. Amira nodded, stuffing the book into her school bag before running out the library and back home, the cold no longer a worry.

Fumbling to find the correct key to the apartment, Amira hated how cold her fingers got as she pushed the door open. She quickly bolted up the stairs and opened up the apartment door before rushing over to her room.

Thankfully, Wally wasn’t there, allowing Amira to focus at the hand at task. 

As Amira set the book down, Tikki flew out to inspect the book, opening it up and flipping each page.

“Tikki. Explain what this is, now.” Amira demanded, opening boxes she never unpacked before. Small trinkets looked back at her, causing her to close them back up and open the next. Where was it?!

“R-Right.” Tikki said, flipping over to a page that showed different forms of the yo-yo. How did she forget its many forms? “This grimoire is a book of spells that not only enhance your abilities, but unlocks the abilities of us kwamis. It also contains information about the other miraculouses and how to use them. Of course, only those who know how to read the Guardian’s language could decipher the spells and information.”

“Guardian’s language?” 

“It’s a special language that is only passed on from one Guardian to another, a language which only they know. Not even us Kwami know. A precaution on the Guardian’s part.”

Amira hummed in response as she gave up looking at the boxes and started to rummage through her desk, tossing papers, notes and books around, stopping when she found the thing she was looking for. “By the way Amira, how do you know how to read the Guardian’s language?”

Amira showed her an old journal, placing it right next to the spellbook. The front of it had the same exact crest as the grimoire.

“My brother adored learning languages, even the obscure ones. Whenever we would have a day off from school, he would go to our father’s library and stay there all day.” Tikki watched as a soft smile formed on her face as she said so. “I remember the day he deciphered the entirety of this language, a language that had stumped researchers for years. You wanna know how he did so?”

Tikki nodded. “He noticed that the translations among the various attempts to decode the language were right. But he noticed that that was just the first layer of the text.”

“Layer?”

“The entire language is encrypted.” Amira said, flipping through the journal. “Depending on which part of the grimoire you were looking at, the code would change. The grimoire was created this way to not only test the fluency of the Guardian, but to also prevent it going into the wrong hands.”

Tikki was left in awe.

“And he did that all by himself?” Tikki watched as Amira showed her the widest grin she had ever seen on her.

“You bet! You should’ve seen the look of satisfaction when he tried to teach me how he used different dialects of Chinese, Arabic and other Native American dialects to ensure his translations were correct. Of course, I didn’t really capture everything he told me. After all, he was the linguist and I was just the student.”

Tikki softly sighed when she saw Amira talk dearly of her brother, a smile on her face that showed her true nature.

Taken by the flow of the discussion, Tikki had forgotten about the reason why they took the book in the first place.

“Amira! We have to get this book to Master Fu! He needs to see this!”

“No.” Amira quickly rejected, getting up from her seat.

“No? Amira, Master Fu-”

“I can’t give him this book just yet. Don’t you realize how valuable this is?”

“That’s exactly why-”

“It’s our greatest clue yet.” Tikki watched as Amira took out a little case from one of the boxes she had opened up earlier, popping it open to display a gadget Tikki had never seen before.

She watched as Amira got to work, placing the small gadgets on the spine of the grimoire, watching as the computer monitors began to display different windows.

It was then that Tikki figured out what Amira was doing.

“Amira...are you planning on-”

“Whoever had this grimoire has to be Hawkmoth. It’s the only plausible explanation. After all, whichever Guardian who was the one before Master Fu was foolish enough to leave the translations of the activation of the miraculouses on the book.” Amira pointed out, showing Tikki some faint mandarin writing under the glyphs. 

Tikki continued to watch in silence as Amira continued to work on the bugging of the book.

“So...we’re not giving the grimoire to Master Fu, right?”

“Not this one at least.” Amira said, showing Tikki a device that resembled a phone. “I will be sending him a copy after I finish scanning the pages.”

Satisfied with the response, Tikki continued to watch over Amira until they had to head back to school for the afternoon classes.

-

When Marinette stepped into the classroom, she didn’t expect to see Chloé crying and sobbing. Sabrina was by her side, rubbing circles on her back as she whispered ‘there, there.’

Running and collapsing to her side, Marinette urged Chloe to look at her.

“Chloe, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s Adrien! His father isn’t letting him come back to school over a book! A stupid book!” Chloe threw herself onto Marinette, sobbing into her friend’s arms. “Stupid Gabriel! Adrien doesn’t deserve to be treated this way!”

“A book? Did Adrien tell you what it looked like?” Chloe wiped off the small snot off her nose.

“N-no. He only said how the book was a book of inspiration for his fa- where are you going?”

“I might know how to find it.” Marinette said, picking up her things. “Tell Ms. Bustier that I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

---

Amira looked at the book sitting on her desk, frowning at having to depart from it so quickly.

After calling Adrien, she was able to confirm that the book he had lost was indeed the grimoire. What were the odds?

“Are you really going to give it back right now? Why don’t you wait a while?”

“I don’t want Adrien to pay for something he didn’t do.”

“Well, he did take the book.”

“But then I took it away without his permission.” Amira fought back, picking up the grimoire and stuffing it into her bag. “He shouldn’t be punished for something he had no control over.”

“True.” Tikki said, watching as Amira slipped into a thicker jacket and wore a dress, something she rarely did.

“Ready to head into the lion’s den?” Amira asked Tikki, Tikki nodding, slipping into Amira’s scarf.

---

“-didn’t know it was yours, sir. I didn’t even think it belonged to Adrien until just moments ago.” Gabriel watched as the girl handed the book over to him, which he took too quickly for his liking. 

While Gabriel thought nothing of this girl, something about her bothered him. 

Perhaps it was the designer in him that screamed to grab a pen and pencil as inspiration had hit him. After all, despite working in the fashion industry, he rarely got to see models with an olive complexion. 

Her neutral expressions were also camera worthy. 

How would she look alongside Adrien during photoshoots?

Setting business aside, he focused back onto the matter at hand.

“So you took it home after finding it in the library?”

“Yes, it happened shortly after he got a phone call. It’s how I assume he left it there as he was in a hurry to answer it.”

Gabriel looked at her directly, trying to find any wavering emotions, only to find none. A child who wasn’t afraid of him. How odd.

“I see.” Gabriel said. “Seeing as Adrien didn’t actually lose the book, he will be free to attend school again. Thank you for returning my book.”

Gabriel watched as the girl curted, turning around to leave only to stop.

“I have a question and a couple of...suggestions.”

“Go on.”

“That book, I was wondering where you found it.” Gabriel watched as the girl took out a worn out picture, causing his eyes to widen ever so slightly.

In the photo, there was a boy with the same exact book in his hands, deciphering what seemed to be the contents of it. “Before my brother passed, he was researching texts that looked similar to the ones inside the book. So of course, I wanted to know if it was the same-”

“I found mine overseas while on a trip with my wife.” Gabriel cut off, wondering why he even told her that. “Since I bought it, I have never seen another copy of it, until now. Do you know what happened to your brother’s copy?”

Gabriel didn’t know what to expect when the girl shook her head.

“Most of his research along with the book disappeared in the fire that took my brother a year ago in Gotham.” The girl said, frowning as she told him. “The only thing I have left from him is this photo.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Gabriel softly said. “Now, you mentioned suggestions.”

“Right.” The girl composed herself. “I left a few translations in the book based on what I remembered from my brother’s notes. But my main suggestion is for you to be more lenient with Adrien. Take it from a child who was also homeschool for half her life. 

Resentment isn’t a pretty thing. While they’re easy to hide, they aren’t the easiest to control once they spill. With Paris’ situation...well, you know the rest.” Gabriel let those words sink in, something in his head clicking. “Well, I hope to see Adrien at school tomorrow. And it was nice seeing you Mr. Agreste, although, this wasn’t my first time seeing you.”

Dumbfounded, Gabriel watched as the girl left his home, wondering what she meant by those words.

He walked back to his office, placing the grimoire back into its place before taking it back. He pressed some hidden buttons on the portrait, feeling the ground below him submerge.

---

Wally flinched when the hatch to Amira’s room swung open.

“Hey! Did-” Amira pressed a finger to her lips before gesturing towards the monitors, taking a seat in her chair and putting on some headphones.

Wally watched as Amira’s map of the Agreste residency started to map out, watching as a red dot began to go below ground.

“Holy shit Amira.” Wally whispered, grinning like a madman. “You fucking did it...and without me!” He whined, Amira ignoring it as she watched the dot come to a stop.

“So that’s where you have been hiding...Hawkmoth.”

---

Amira yawned as she made her way up the stairs of the school.

How she regretted staying up with Wally. She is never letting him take over the Beetle ever again. He treated her camera as if it were some type of toy! The nerve!

As she made her way to her locker, taking off her coat as she walked, Marinette couldn’t help but notice the buzzing around her and within the halls. 

She also couldn’t help but notice the name Lila being said in every sentence she heard. 

Lila this, Lila that. Just who was this Lila?

“Lila? That’s the name of our latest transfer student!” Alya said, putting her coat into her locker. Guess she said that out loud. 

And a transfer student? It’s already December for crying out loud!

Picking up a few books, Alya showed Marinette a video, or rather an interview where the girl reminisced about her meeting with Ladybird. 

Marinette watched with disgust as the new transfer student blabbered about events that didn’t happen, even going as far as saying that the two were good friends by the end of their supposed meeting. 

“When did you say she arrived in Paris?” Marinette asked, closing her locker and placing her lock.

“Seriously? You still place a lock on your locker? Come on, we’re grown! We can trust-”

“Trust is earned, not given. And you didn’t answer my question. When did she arrive?”

“Just yesterday! Which is why I thought it was so cool that she got to meet Ladybird-”

“How do you know she even met Ladybird? Not even you have and you’re the only reporter in all of Paris that even dares to approach Ladybird during and after a fight.”

Alya pursed her lips as she looked at her phone.  

Marinette was right. 

How come she didn't get to converse with Ladybird despite their many encounters? Why hasn’t she yet got to get an exclusive interview with Ladybird while Lila got one on her first day in Paris?

That wasn’t fair. “And even if it was true, doesn’t it seem a little odd? There wasn’t an attack yesterday, meaning that Ladybird was on patrol and we all know Ladybird never talks with civilians while she’s out on patrol. She even told you it herself when you encountered her the second time all those months ago, or did you already forget?”

Alya felt herself bringing her head down, remembering the time she got akumatized into Lady WiFi. 

She had tried to go after Ladybird, trying to find out her identity as the next big scoop for her blog - Ladyblog. 

After days of tracking her patrol route, Alya decided to track down Ladybird which ended up with the vigilante scolding Alya for disrespecting her space, invading her privacy and for endangering herself. 

“Perhaps Lila-“

“Alya. Are you really going to accept Lila words just like that? Whatever happened to being a reporter that would one day rival Lois Lane herself?” Marinette reminded her, hating herself for remembering that rant from months ago. “Will you really blindly accept the words of a person without doing any type of investigation?”

Alya looked at the video staring back at her, Lila’s laughing face looking back at her. “If that’s what you want to become, then by all means, go ahead. Just don’t expect to be receiving any internships anytime soon.”

Alya watched as she felt the locker room, leaving Alya with herself. 

Did Marinette really not believe in Lila’s words? 

She wasn’t one to harshly comment about people without knowing them, so why this time? 

What in Lila’s interview had bothered Marinette?

Having found a new goal, Alya quickly grabbed her things and headed towards class, the gears in her head spinning as she thought of a way to devise her investigation. 

-

“-and he even wrote a song about me!” The way Lila’s voice became a pitch higher upon ending her sentence irked Marinette, the girl rolling her eyes at the girl’s tale. 

“Welcome to the club.” Nino told her as she walked past his desk. 

“Club?”

“Seems like only us five don’t particularly like her.” Sabrina elaborated, taking out her notebook for their first class. “Something about her stories just doesn't sit right.”

“Doesn't sit right? Sabrina, they're ridiculous! Who brags about being Ladybird’s friend when she doesn’t even make friends with civilians? She made that loud and clear with Cesaire!”

“I see.” Marinette said, looking over at Lila, the rest of the class surrounding her and eating from the palm of her hand. “Where’s Adrien?”

“He said he’s running la-there he is!” Chloe squealed, latching onto him the moment he walked into the classroom. “Adrikins! I’m so glad you’re back!”

The group failed to see Lila look over at them, a faint blush on her face. Holy hell was that boy cute when he smiled.

“I suggest you stay away from them.” Someone told Lila, but Lila brushed the warning away.

“It may not look like it but they aren’t exactly the kindest of people.” Another voice spoke.

“You have Chloe - a bully, Sabrina - Chloe’s lapdog, Adrien - Chloe’s best friend and Marinette-  Chloe’s friend.” 

“What about the boy with the cap?” Lila asked, her eyes not leaving the sunshine boy among the group. He was...perfect...

“He’s a recent addition.”

Just as Lila was about to ask about more information about Adrien, their teacher walks in.

“Oh, I see everyone has met Lila!” Miss Bustier cooed, watching as Marinette made her way to her seat. The two made eye contact before Marinette huffed.

Ever since that humiliating first day of class, Mlle Bustier tried to bring Marinette’s behavior to M Damocles, only for him to do nothing. 

Something about her father having donated a large sum of money that allowed the school to have more STEAM programs and of the sorts. 

Ever since then, Mlle Bustier made sure to be wary of Marinette and made sure to never give her a chance to make a mockery of her teaching again. “Lila, if you would come to the front of the class to introduce yourself just in case someone hasn’t met you yet.”

Lila smiled as she grabbed her things and walked to the front.

“Hello everyone! My name is Lila Rossi! I transferred her from Italy due to my mother’s job as a diplomat. Since she’s a diplomat, we tend to move a lot.” The class cooed at that, Marinette, however, raising a brow. “I’d be happy to answer any questions about my-“

“What other places have you been?”

“Have you met anyone famous?”

“What are-“

“Class, class!” Miss Bustier raised her voice, making sure the class settled down before continuing. “Now, Lila will answer your questions one by one.”

“Thank you Mlle Bustier. As for where I have traveled, I’ve been to Spain, England, Achu and now I’m here. I met Prince Ali in Achu and I can’t tell you how marvelous it was being able to spend hours with him.” 

Once more, the class cooed. Marinette remained unfazed, noticing how the girl lied with ease. 

“Just recently, I was in Gotham. I even got to go to this year’s Gala!“

Lila noticed Chloe raising her hand. “Yes?”

“How come I didn’t see you then? Surely I would’ve recognised that ridiculous hairstyle of yours anywhere.” Chloe asked, earning a harsh warning from Mlle Bustier.

“You make a good point Chloe. I also didn’t see you there.” Adrien said, causing Lila to pale.

“Oh right, I forgot the two of you went to Gotham for Wayne Gala as well.” Lila heard Marinette say, her face neutral. “Weren’t you guys invited to stay at the Manor as well?”

Shit. 

“Well, perhaps you didn’t see me because I was spending the entire night talking with Jason and keeping him company throughout the gala!” Lila said, placing her hands together. “Everyone was told that he couldn’t make it to the gala due to having other priorities the next day, but the truth is that he wanted to spend time with me before I had to head here.”

No one noticed the way Marinette stiffened, the way her eyes widened and her hands began to form a fist. Everyone was either too busy cooing or gagging.

“You’re lying.” Marinette seethed.

“I know it’s hard to believe it, but it’s true! Jason and I are the bestest of friends and M. Wayne is like a second father to me! All night, we were chatting away, Jason telling how he was the one who created the foundation in honor of-”

“Shut up.” Marinette said it loudly enough for the class to hear, causing them to turn to her direction. 

“Pardon?” Lila said with a tilt of her head, wondering why exactly this girl was getting so on edge.

“I said, shut up.” Marinette said, her voice just above a whisper. “Shut up before you-“

“Marinette!” Mlle Bustier raises her voice. This girl wasn’t going to bully this poor girl on her first day of class! Not on her watch! “Apologize at-”

“No Mlle Bustier, let her-“

“You said you knew Jason...when did you meet him?“ Marinette said as she got up.

“We met when we were little, around 5 years old. M. Wayne-”

“Bruce Wayne adopted Jason just over two years ago.” Marinette cut off.

“5? I mean to say 12.” Lila corrected herself. “And like I was going to say, he told me he had been planning this for quite a-”

“He couldn’t have told you that himself!” Marinette yelled, getting up from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. “And don’t you dare claim that he did!”

“You weren’t there, so how-“

“Because he would never tell someone like you about it! Hell, even if he did show a liking to you, there’s no way he would’ve been able to.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Jason and I are good buddies!“ Lila cried out, tears pooling in her eyes.

Marinette could hear the yells behind her that told her to stop bullying Lila. To stop acting so jealous over her exciting life.

“Stop lying! Jason couldn’t have told you anything because he’s dead!” Marinette yelled, feeling her eyes sting. 

How she hated how her body trembled and burned with rage. 

Somewhere in the distance, she heard Tikki whisper to her to calm down. 

But how can she? This harlot was using her dear brother's name for fame..she couldn't sit back and watch this girl do that.!

“And how would you know? You probably have never left-“

“Because unlike you, I actually knew him! I’ve actually met him! I was there when he got taken in by Bruce. The two of us went to Gotham Academy, because yes! I’m actually a Gothamite! And not only that, he was my best friend!” Marinette yelled, feeling her throat grow dry. “And I! And I was there the day he died during a villain attack in Gotham so don’t you dare say you knew him when there was no possibility in you ever speaking to him!” 

Marinette marched down the steps and grabbed Lila by the collar of her shirt, Lila’s hazel eyes not being a challenge for her emerald ones. “So I suggest you shut your damn trap and stop lying to everyone in this damn room just so you could get a lick of attention! 

Unlike them, I can’t be fooled by such trickery. You’re nothing but a simple con artist.”

Dropping Lila to the ground and grabbing her bag, Marinette left the classroom in a hurry, never turning back…

She never noticed the akuma that followed her hot in her heels. 

-

Hawkmoth was busy looking at the translation left on his book, trying to decipher it when he felt a shiver run down his spine.

This emotion was strong, filled with both anger and grief, a negative energy so strong, he felt his knees buckle. He grinned at this golden opportunity. 

He would have to thank whoever made this poor soul fester into such a wonderful monster just waiting to burst out. For this will be his greatest akuma yet.

Beckoning a glistening white butterfly, it sat on his palm, Hawkmoth carefully enclosing it between his palms. Oh how he could feel the raw power in this soul. This poor soul who wanted their enemy to feel the same grief she had been dealing with for months.

“Fly, my little akuma and make her our greatest creation yet!” He praised with predetermined glory, watching as his miasma covered butterfly slipped through his hands and out the window. 

He waited as his akuma merged into the soul’s dearest possession, feeling the negative energy hit him in the face once the merging was done. 

Just as he was going to introduce himself, the soon to be Victim spoke to him. 

“I know who you are. I know what you want...but why should I let myself be used for your own gain?”

His own gain? 

To think his gem was hidden from him all these months!

Letting out a cackle, Hawkmoth couldn’t believe his luck. 

He could feel it in his blood. 

Today was the day. 

Today, he will get Ladybird’s and Chat Noir’s miraculouses. 

Victory will be his at long last!

“My own gain? On the contrary my dear. I will give you the power to make anyone you touch feel your despair and anger at losing your loved one. All you have to do,” Hawkmoth let out a chuckle. “Well, you know the rest.”

-

Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina and Nino ran out the classroom in pursuit of Marinette, watching in terror as an akuma landed on her, not seeing what item the akuma merged into. 

All they saw was their dear friend get enveloped by a hideous purple miasma. 

A few seconds passed when the miasma dispersed and turned into fog, mist so dense you can barely see your own hands in front of you. 

The four stuck together, staring at the place Marinette once stood, watching as an all white figure approached them. 

They watched with beating hearts and held breaths as the figure was now a foot in front of them, staring at them with tears flowing down their pale face and bloodshot red eyes through her thin white veil. 

“Li...la.” Marinette hoarsely said, her head tilting up to see Lila staring at her with wide eyes. “Lila.” She said with a smile.

Letting out what seemed to be a shivering wail, Lila pushed herself away from the railing and sprinted towards the other side of the school yard and fled, Marinette turning to follow her before a hand stopped her.

“Marinette.” Chloé whispered, making Marinette turn to her. “Is that-“

“I’m not Marinette.” The white figure said, clasping her hand with Chloé. 

The group watched in horror as Chloé let out a heart wrenching shriek and collapsed to the floor into a sobbing mess. They backed away from the ghostly figure as Adrien and Sabrina crouched next to Chloe, who had curled up in pain. 

The group now looked at the white figure, wary of her hands.  

“If you are not Marinette, then who are you?” Nino asked, noticing that the edges of the veil were now black.

“Banshee. My name is Banshee...”

NEXT

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter,  word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off. 

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be. 

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number. 

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek. 

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you. 

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he? 

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day. 

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out. 

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.” 

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away. 

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand. 

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.” 

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads. 

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?” 

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter. 

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

 “Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones. 

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great! 

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no. 

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate. 

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and  from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along. 

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. 

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest. 

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.  

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school. 

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled. 

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam! 

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up. 

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself? 

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.” 

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating. 

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself. 

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[kamikoii]

2. 退屈な日々

MASTERLIST ✧ PREV ✧ NEXT

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[Name] and Kashikoi looked at the uniform set that laid across the bed. Pale lilac shirt with a crimson red bow, cream sweater vest, and light brown skirt with dark details. [Name] got to her room and opened her closet, the set of uniform she didn't noticed earlier, the same set as the one found in Kashikoi's room.

[Name]'s widened when she recalled where she saw this previously, "Koi-cchi, we're in Aoba Johsai!"

"Aoba Johsai? Oh, the one nicknamed Seijoh? That's good, isn't it? You said you liked Seijoh?", Kashikoi smiled but saw the shocked look instead of joy that she expected.

"[Name]-chan? What-"

"Promise me one thing!", Her eyes widened in slight fear and confusion as to why her usually calm roomie-slash-bestie was acting odd, [Name] was currently gripping her shoulders while looking at her with a serious and determined face.

"Promise me you won't become one of them. One of...", She paused to visibly shudder, the act only added to Kashikoi's confusion, "Oikawa's fangirls, They are crazy, I don't want you to be crazy!"

Kashikoi gently removed [Name]'s hand and nodded, "Yeah, I won't".

' I told her to stop reading so many fanfics at three in the morning', sweat dropped through the azure eyed female as she wiped it with the back of her hand.

  .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

( thirty minutes until homeroom )

"[Name]-chan, you do know the way around...right?"

[Name] fumbled around with the map and a worried expression formed on Kashikoi's face. "Uh, I think this green symbol stands for a tree...?", Kashikoi stated and looked around for a big tree. But...there were many trees.

"That's not helping, I think we should ask someon-"

"Ohaiyo, Kashima-chan, Kamitani-chan!", The confused female duo looked up from the map to spot a brown haired petite girl waving her hand. Both the girls returned her greeting. [Name] squinted her eyes, she looked somewhat familiar. The girl looked like Akari Tachibana, their classmate in the real world. She turned her head to see if Kashikoi recognized her or not, she did and her head was also turned.

Both of them sighed, at least they weren't the only one to be teleported here. Akari was smaller than the two, standing at the height of 157 centimeters, the brunette ran to the now relieved duo, "Kashima-chan, did you not recognize me?", She tilted her head in question. [Name] shook her head and asked if she felt anything different since yesterday morning.

Akari made a small noise of confusion and answered, "Ano, I do feel nauseous but it's because of the bad oysters! Other than that, no...", She shook her head to symbolize her answer.

"Oh..."

Akari was just about to turn around and continue her way until two different/similar tone hands stopped her by grabbing her shoulder, she turned around to face the sheepish expression of her two classmates.

"About class, Tachibana-chan... Do you mind showing us the way?"

"Sure..."

Everything in the class was normal excluding the fact that no one remembers waking up to a new universe, [Name] asked a couple more classmates about the change, hell even there sensei was different but not that anyone noticed.

Lunch break came by, [Name] noticed that the school's inside structure didn't changed at all, the cafeteria was at the same place, left from her class, downstairs and then right, the cafeteria's size sure magnified as it was way larger.

One thing that worried you was that your skirt was a tad bit shorter, at first you declined to wear it and even asked Kashikoi if you could use hers but well, she refused to wear the shorter one (and to your surprise and dismay you didn't found any leggings with the uniform), Hers reached to her knees, while yours ended at your mid thigh. Earlier, you didn't had any problem with that but as the day passed by you noticed the stares from some males.

Well, you were on the track field in middle school for some time, so staring was definitely expected...

You somehow managed to keep it at a decent position by continuously tugging at it.

' mental note to myself : buy a longer skirt or something to cover them '

School ended with the last ring of the bell, students swarmed at the building and exits, some were tired out, going straight to their home while some had after school practices.

You and Kashikoi decided to walk around the campus for some time just so you two can get a little more familiar with the parts that changed.

"[Name]-chan, what if a volleyball again comes straight at us?", The black-haired girl accompanying you joked with a small uplift of her lips.

"Please don't jinx us, Koi-cchi", you didn't had a problem with the volleyball but just hope that the club captain doesn't come himself to retrieve the ball.

Kashikoi raised a brow in question at your odd expression, but you shrugged her off saying, "the day was just a lil' tiresome".

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

thank you for reading !

Likes and comments are very

much appreciated !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[wndamaximov]

Of Love And Secrets

Part 3:  Meeting Her Family

Main Masterlist                      Series Masterlist

Summary: While y/n was initially stuck in the book store because of the rain, she stayed longer for the handsome stranger that kept her company. But this handsome stranger has a secret- one he’d rather not let see the light of day.

Warnings: Minor Language, Fluff, Abusive Boyfriend, PTSD

Words: 1, 316

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Sorry for taking so long in getting this up. Thank y'all for being so patient <3<3<3

<< prev

Y/n laydown, nestled in the crook if Steve’s arm, running her fingers round and round in circles on his chest. They’d been dating for a couple of months now, and the Starks were dying to meet him. 

“I think that it’s time for you to meet Tony and Pepper,” she voiced out loud. Y/n could feel Steve’s breath stop for a moment. It was a while before he finally let it go and relaxed.

“Don’t you think it’s… too early?” His voice came out uncertain, so different from the way he usually spoke.

Y/n pushed herself off of him and whirled around to look at his face. She smiled before telling him, “They can’t wait to meet you. In fact, every time I see them, they ask when they’ll finally get to see the living legend in person.”

Steve laughed. “A living legend? Is that what I am now?” As suddenly as the happiness had come, the gloominess returned. “What if they don’t like me?”

She leaned down to kiss him softly, leaving him- and her- wanting more. “They won’t like you; they’ll love you.” Y/n got out of the bed reluctantly to get ready for work. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

“Yeah,” Steve ran a hand through his hair then continued, “And tell Tony and Pepper we’ll meet them for dinner tomorrow, kinda like a double date.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

After y/n left, Steve leaned over to grab his phone from the bedside table. He went to his contacts and scrolled down to Bucky’s. His finger hovered over the call button, as he debated whether or not to call him. On one hand, he wasn’t even sure he’d answer. He’d been ignoring Steve, ever since his first date with y/n. It broke his heart, but he knew Bucky needed his space. On the other hand, he missed his best friend.

Before he could rethink his decision, he pressed the button. Bucky picked up on the first ring.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

Y/n walked into Pepper’s office, carrying papers for her to sign. Tony was there too, trying to stop the swinging sticks from… swinging.

“Everything’s set for the press conference, I just need both of your signatures here and here.” She set the papers on the desk while pointing to the places they both needed to sign. 

The swinging sticks clattered to the floor, still going, and Tony threw his hands up in defeat. “I swear to God, I’m going to throw this thing in the trash.”

Pepper gave him her signature glare and said, “No you’re not.” Y/n had been the receiving end of one of those multiple times(albeit, less than Tony) and she could say from experience that it wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

“Yes ma’am. However, would you consider donation?” The look persisted.

“Anyways…” y/n interrupted, “you both are invited to dinner. With Steve and me.”

“Oh my God, finally! Pep, you owe me one, crisp Jackson.”

“You bet on me?”

“Oh honey, we do it all the time. Speaking of time, when and where is our double date going to be?”

As she gave them the details, a bouquet of flowers perched on the edge of Pepper’s desk caught her eye. Blood red roses- beautiful, yet full of thorns.

“You get those for Pepper?” she asked Tony. It was Pepper who answered.

“No, they’re from a corporation that wants to do business. Hydra Technologies, I think.”

She nodded, the heat of tears stinging behind her eyes. “I have to go.” She barely made it out of the room and into the bathroom before the flashback started. 

Ring-a-round the rosie,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes, Ashes,

We all fall down.

His face swam before her eyes, his hands and feet following, not seconds after. She saw bouquet of roses he always sent as an apology, before the cycle of rage started again. And like ashes, she always fell down.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

Bucky stared down at his coffee, slowly stirring the sugar in. Steve had just told him about the double date, and he had yet to respond.

He took a sip, then set the cup down, looking Steve straight in the eye. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem mad. 

“Okay.” Bucky leaned back in his chair.

“That’s it?”

“No, that’s not it. If you want to be a suicidal maniac for a girl, I fully support your decision.”

“I’m not suicidal. They’ll never find out.” 

“You really like her?”

“I do. I think I may love her too.”

“I’m sorry. For being the world’s biggest jerk. I still get to be your best man, right?”

Steve choked on the water he had just taken a sip of. “Who said anything about a wedding?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After gathering herself together on the floor of the bathroom stall, y/n had went back to work, as if everything was normal.

When she got back home, all memories of… him, and been shoved back down into a lockbox.

As she got ready for dinner, she wondered where Steve was, seeing as he was usually waiting for her at home. That’s what Steve’s house had become for her. Home. She smiled to herself. 

When the door opened, she was all ready for dinner, save for her shoes.

“Where were you?”

Steve grinned. “I got a job.”

Y/n ran over to Steve and gave him a congratulatory hug. “Oh my God, where? I need all the details!”

“At the bookstore. Bucky needed some extra help, and I volunteered.”

Y/n hugged him again. “Now go get ready, we can’t be late.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

In the taxi to the restaurant, Steve’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing. Up, down, up, down, up. Eventually, y/n put her hand on it, stopping the motion.

He couldn’t even relax with the girl he loved because of a stupid, drunken mistake he’d made years ago. Damn young Steve for messing things up for him.

On another note, he really wanted both the Starks to love him. They were important to y/n, and he wanted them to be important to him too.

Deep down in his subconscious, he wanted them to like him to make up for what he did, but that only made him feel even more guilty.

Too late to go back now; they were already at the restaurant.

“You ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

They saw Tony and Pepper and y/n ran up to them introduce everyone to each other. Then, Steve found himself in a seat, right across from Tony Stark. Honestly, the way he got there was a blur.

“So, how’d you three meet?” he asked, making small talk.

“Well, I started out as an intern in the public relations department at Stark Industries. When I was taking coffee to the big shots upstairs, a very hungover Tony Stark told me to come sit with him on the floor.”

“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Pepper interjected. 

“Because he was CEO at the time! Anyways, we got to talking, and it turned out that we had a lot in common.”

“Yup! We only talked about morbid stuff though, like how both our parents died in car crashes and-”

Their voices faded away, and Steve wanted to be anywhere but here. Laughter interrupted his thoughts, and he zoned back into the conversation, determined to make a good impression.

But the memory of his past still lingered in the back of his head, from appetizers until after dessert.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After dinner, Tony pulled her aside and whispered in her ear, “I like him- he’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed, before going up to Steve and taking his arm. 

Once Tony and Pepper were out of earshot, she said, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

next >>

What do you think Steve did... let me know in the comments! As always, reblogs are an added bonus!

Angels: @freshly-painted-duck @rebelwriter95

Of Love and Secrets:  @theadventurousqueen @marvelgirl7 @little-ash-unicorn @diamonddia-mond @questionable-brimborion @jll72-blog

Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in this series!

[wndamaximov]

Of Love and Secrets

Part 3: Meeting Her Family

Series Masterlist

Summary: While y/n was initially stuck in the book store because of the rain, she stayed longer for the handsome stranger that kept her company. But this handsome stranger has a secret- one he’d rather not let see the light of day.

Warnings: Minor Language, Fluff, Abusive Boyfriend, PTSD

Words: 1, 316

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

<< prev

Y/n laydown, nestled in the crook if Steve’s arm, running her fingers round and round in circles on his chest. They’d been dating for a couple of months now, and the Starks were dying to meet him.

“I think that it’s time for you to meet Tony and Pepper,” she voiced out loud. Y/n could feel Steve’s breath stop for a moment. It was a while before he finally let it go and relaxed.

“Don’t you think it’s… too early?” His voice came out uncertain, so different from the way he usually spoke.

Y/n pushed herself off of him and whirled around to look at his face. She smiled before telling him, “They can’t wait to meet you. In fact, every time I see them, they ask when they’ll finally get to see the living legend in person.”

Steve laughed. “A living legend? Is that what I am now?” As suddenly as the happiness had come, the gloominess returned. “What if they don’t like me?”

She leaned down to kiss him softly, leaving him- and her- wanting more. “They won’t like you; they’ll love you.” Y/n got out of the bed reluctantly to get ready for work. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

“Yeah,” Steve ran a hand through his hair then continued, “And tell Tony and Pepper we’ll meet them for dinner tomorrow, kinda like a double date.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

After y/n left, Steve leaned over to grab his phone from the bedside table. He went to his contacts and scrolled down to Bucky’s. His finger hovered over the call button, as he debated whether or not to call him. On one hand, he wasn’t even sure he’d answer. He’d been ignoring Steve, ever since his first date with y/n. It broke his heart, but he knew Bucky needed his space. On the other hand, he missed his best friend.

Before he could rethink his decision, he pressed the button. Bucky picked up on the first ring.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

Y/n walked into Pepper’s office, carrying papers for her to sign. Tony was there too, trying to stop the swinging sticks from… swinging.

“Everything’s set for the press conference, I just need both of your signatures here and here.” She set the papers on the desk while pointing to the places they both needed to sign.

The swinging sticks clattered to the floor, still going, and Tony threw his hands up in defeat. “I swear to God, I’m going to throw this thing in the trash.”

Pepper gave him her signature glare and said, “No you’re not.” Y/n had been the receiving end of one of those multiple times(albeit, less than Tony) and she could say from experience that it wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

“Yes ma’am. However, would you consider donation?” The look persisted.

“Anyways…” y/n interrupted, “you both are invited to dinner. With Steve and me.”

“Oh my God, finally! Pep, you owe me one, crisp Jackson.”

“You bet on me?”

“Oh honey, we do it all the time. Speaking of time, when and where is our double date going to be?”

As she gave them the details, a bouquet of flowers perched on the edge of Pepper’s desk caught her eye. Blood red roses- beautiful, yet full of thorns.

“You get those for Pepper?” she asked Tony. It was Pepper who answered.

“No, they’re from a corporation that wants to do business. Hydra Technologies, I think.”

She nodded, the heat of tears stinging behind her eyes. “I have to go.” She barely made it out of the room and into the bathroom before the flashback started.

Ring-a-round the rosie,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes, Ashes,

We all fall down.

His face swam before her eyes, his hands and feet following, not seconds after. She saw bouquet of roses he always sent as an apology, before the cycle of rage started again. And like ashes, she always fell down.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

Bucky stared down at his coffee, slowly stirring the sugar in. Steve had just told him about the double date, and he had yet to respond.

He took a sip, then set the cup down, looking Steve straight in the eye. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem mad.

“Okay.” Bucky leaned back in his chair.

“That’s it?”

“No, that’s not it. If you want to be a suicidal maniac for a girl, I fully support your decision.”

“I’m not suicidal. They’ll never find out.”

“You really like her?”

“I do. I think I may love her too.”

“I’m sorry. For being the world’s biggest jerk. I still get to be your best man, right?”

Steve choked on the water he had just taken a sip of. “Who said anything about a wedding?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After gathering herself together on the floor of the bathroom stall, y/n had went back to work, as if everything was normal.

When she got back home, all memories of… him, and been shoved back down into a lockbox.

As she got ready for dinner, she wondered where Steve was, seeing as he was usually waiting for her at home. That’s what Steve’s house had become for her. Home. She smiled to herself.

When the door opened, she was all ready for dinner, save for her shoes.

“Where were you?”

Steve grinned. “I got a job.”

Y/n ran over to Steve and gave him a congratulatory hug. “Oh my God, where? I need all the details!”

“At the bookstore. Bucky needed some extra help, and I volunteered.”

Y/n hugged him again. “Now go get ready, we can’t be late.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

In the taxi to the restaurant, Steve’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing. Up, down, up, down, up. Eventually, y/n put her hand on it, stopping the motion.

He couldn’t even relax with the girl he loved because of a stupid, drunken mistake he’d made years ago. Damn young Steve for messing things up for him.

On another note, he really wanted both the Starks to love him. They were important to y/n, and he wanted them to be important to him too.

Deep down in his subconscious, he wanted them to like him to make up for what he did, but that only made him feel even more guilty.

Too late to go back now; they were already at the restaurant.

“You ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

They saw Tony and Pepper and y/n ran up to them introduce everyone to each other. Then, Steve found himself in a seat, right across from Tony Stark. Honestly, the way he got there was a blur.

“So, how’d you three meet?” he asked, making small talk.

“Well, I started out as an intern in the public relations department at Stark Industries. When I was taking coffee to the big shots upstairs, a very hungover Tony Stark told me to come sit with him on the floor.”

“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Pepper interjected.

“Because he was CEO at the time! Anyways, we got to talking, and it turned out that we had a lot in common.”

“Yup! We only talked about morbid stuff though, like how both our parents died in car crashes and-”

Their voices faded away, and Steve wanted to be anywhere but here. Laughter interrupted his thoughts, and he zoned back into the conversation, determined to make a good impression.

But the memory of his past still lingered in the back of his head, from appetizers until after dessert.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After dinner, Tony pulled her aside and whispered in her ear, “I like him- he’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed, before going up to Steve and taking his arm.

Once Tony and Pepper were out of earshot, she said, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

next >>

Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in this series!

Angels: @rebelwriter95​ @jll72-blog​

Of Love and Secrets: @theadventurousqueen​ @marvelgirl7​ @little-ash-unicorn​ @diamonddia-mond​ @questionable-brimborion​