#(translation): sentiment there is 'pick a hole and fuck yourself in it'

[iii-days-grace]

(from @custer-mp3)

also very good

Never forget, if someone asks you an invasive question, you can always reply by asking them "do you think that's a normal thing to ask people?"

Do it in a super casual and cheery tone, like you were asking about their favourite food.

[momo-de-avis]

Hey Ana! Can I ask you something? How would you describe the people in Portugal? I know it might be a generalization, but what do you think are the good and bad traits ? Hope you have a lovely day!

Hello friend!

Let me see.

The good traits. The portuguese can be very warm people. Mostly it obviously depends WHERE you are (I’m of the opinion northerners tend to be a lot warmer). We love sharing our culture, our cuisine, our good things. It makes us very welcoming. It borders on the “won’t shut up about his own country” but it’s all well intentioned.

Adding to that, I can assure you a portuguese person is someone to ask for directions. Well, I guess it depends where you are, but there are certain cities where asking “where is the train station” ends with an invitation to come over and have some cozido, cause why not. It’s stupid easy to befriend us lmao

I know we talk a lot about “desemerdanço” (which literally translates to “unshit yourself) but it really is outstanding. I don’t know, we have an ability to get out of situations by the most unconventional ways possible. It makes up for some pretty funny stuff.

I don’t know if this would be considered an actual positive trait but I’m just so used to this (and being like this) it’s sort of neutral-slash-homely to me. But we’re loud af, jesus christ. But the thing is, the louder we express ourselves, the better the feeling. We’re pretty aggressive on affection too. It’s pretty funny because several times in the past, while in another country with friends, I’ve had people from that country ask me and my friend if we’re angry at each other because we’re just so aggressive with each other, but it’s not like we’re insulting. The portuguese are the kind to slap you in the back and yell “I LOVE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT” and it’s heartwarming. 

The WORST trait, and I have a suspicion this list is going to be longer than the above one, is that we’re awfully pessimistic. It pisses me off, but we’re cranky old shits who won’t accept the better outcome, and worst of all, a lot of us have this attitude that I can best describe as “if my neighbour has a better car than me, I don’t want a better car than him, I want him to have a worst car”. It’s insane. To give you an example, which is stupid but once I was talking to a guy about this and we concluded it’s symptomatic of our pessimism, the show “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”? Do you know how they translated it here? Not the exact same sentence but in portuguese. Actually, the title they picked translates to “it never rains in Philadelphia”. It’s like, even when the title of something is worded as something positive, we gotta turn it around and make it a “eh, it could be better, but alas” sentiment. It boggles me why they picked that title.

I think we are a people of commodity. Things could be absolute shit, but the portuguese just won’t pick up their butts and do something about it. You know the Bystander Effect, the thing coined after Kitty Genovese’s death, which has been debunked? They should do it with just portuguese people. Everyone’s crying “CALL AN AMBULANCE”, you’re uncle is there saying “I know a guy who did this once, I can tell how it is” but won’t do it yourself. There are 55 old ladies at the window, watching but doing nothing. The accident is the talk of the town, but nobody will help. It’s really bizarre, and alas I am guilty of it because I was brought up this way. I feel like the younger generations are starting to change that, with Gen Z e millennials, but it’s a slow change.

Aaaaand unfortunately, as a whole, we’re still pretty backwards. There is a long way to go in terms of becoming a progressive country, no matter what we try to sell to tourists. One might think we are progressive, if you visit Lisbon. But however a small country, it’s got a lot more to it than just Lisbon, and trust, that’s where the problem lies.

There’s also something I always tell about us. It’s that we don’t find solutions, we find temporary cover-ups. It’s the busted pipe analogy (though I say ‘analogy’, but this shit REALLY HAPPENED): you bust a pipe, and there’s a small hole in it. The rational option is to call a professional to have the pipe replaced. It’s a possible splurge of money, but you know that if you don’t do that right now, you’re at risk of flooding your house and have a bigger issue.

The portuguese, however???? Fuck that, why am I gonna call a plumber when uncle Zé is a handyman??? What’s he gonna do? He’s gonna fucking duct-tape the hole in the pipe. In a month, it’s gonna burst again, and someone’s gotta replace the duct-tape. And we’ll do this for years, yes years, until some day that duct-tape will give in to its own lifespan, the hole in the pipe will turn into a gigantic tear, and your house is going to flood. Dead ass this happened in my family, and I was called an idiot for daring to suggest calling a plumber and replacing the pipe cause why should we, it works just fine as it is!

This is all that comes to mind. Maybe my tuga followers can chime in with their own opinions, but I hope this helps.

Have a wonderful day too, friend!!!!

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Two halves become one whole {8}

Chapter summary; You’re hours away from the party. A sleepless night and tear stained cheeks stops you from being physically, neither emotionally, ready to go there. But somehow a certain billionaire, a sister and a brother makes you pay it a visit.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 8/9

Word count; 4.565

Warnings; hinting angst, caring Steve (the main warning for this whole series)

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: I can’t get enough of a caring Steve or the tension between Bucky and reader, so you’ll continue to get both. Putting the translation for the Russian word here.  

идиот= idiot

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Are you serious?” Steve barked at Bucky as soon as he couldn’t see you anymore. The blonde's eyes were wide, the disappointment in them evident.

“Are you asking me that? I could ask you the same thing about choosing her”, he snapped back, one arm shooting out to violently point the way you’d gone. He was angry, fuming at both you and Steve. However, somewhere inside himself, something urged him to calm down.

“Yes, I’m asking you that! And your question isn't valid because you damn well already know the answer", Steve answered, taking a step closer to the brunette as he continued. "I chose her because she’s the only one who could help you. Not only because she's the sole one in the team knowing how to handle a situation like this. But also as she has endured similar things as you", he saw how Steve's chest heaved while his eyes burned into him. It was a long time ago he had looked this upset. All because of you.

The look in his friend's eyes hurled him back into the memory he wanted to erase from his mind, but never could. He had come here in hopes of finding Steve, to talk about something concerning you. However, he hadn't only found his friend as he hoped, but you as well.

He had stopped on the threshold of the room the moment Steve had pulled you in for a hug. The way you had welcomed his embrace by burying your face in his chest, made a pang shoot through his own. He recognised the familiar thought he believed he buried resurfacing. Were you a couple? He would've mulled over the question he got proved opposite many times already if it wasn't for your movement. 

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but still, he had seen it. Your body trembled. He remembers how his heart had tugged at the scene and understood that something must've worried you enough for Steve to try and soothe you. He was about to walk forward to comfort you as well, like you'd done so many times to him, but was halted when he heard a conversation between the two of you begin.

“What did I say, Rogers”.

“I’m sorry”, Bucky had seen Steve look down on the crown of your head, before looking up and blinking a few times. He knew his friends just blinked away a few tears. “You're not going to tell him I guess”, the statement had intrigued him, but further so did the scene beyond the two of you. It had been a simple flicker of his gaze that made him notice. By the station you had chosen in the shooting range, he saw a gun on the table. Looking over your shoulder, he curiously observed the dolls. However, the moment his eyes landed on the scene, his eyebrows flew up. There was a neat hole in the bullseye part of the target.

“Honestly, never. Never if he doesn't ask directly about. It wouldn't do anything good for him, neither me", it was your answer to Steve's question that pulled his attention back to you. Your words had made his mind reel and the first question that had surfaced was, did you speak about him?

Though Bucky had tried brushing past the question, it was one move from his blonde friend that had made him realise you did. Steve had glanced on the weapon behind you, then to the targets and after that, his embrace had tightened.

“Then it’s good I ask perhaps”, he hadn't been able to stop the words from leaving him. The moments afterwards, he had witnessed you jump away from Steve.

“I-I...”, he wanted to believe he was wrong, but the look on both you and Steve's faces screamed the opposite. Despite this, Bucky had felt the need to give you a final chance to prove him wrong.

It was that decision that had carried him forwards, towards the open weapons department on the wall. He hadn't looked at you, though now in the aftermath he perhaps should've. Maybe it would've stopped him from picking the two guns most familiar to him. Stopped him from walking to the shooting range. Stopped him from ordering you to shoot. But he had felt the need to know.

And had gotten to know. As soon as Steve tried stepping in to defend you, but you had taken the guns from him regardless, he knew. It was too familiar. The way his friend had tried to argue for you as he had done for Bucky many times as well. How you had handled the weapons, with a learned profession.

The realisation hit him even before you began to shoot and had made him take a few steps back. He almost hadn't noticed he leaned against the wall, while metal fingers scraped against it.

The image was fresh on his frontal lobe, the way you had focused when squatting down to stabilise the rifle. He still sensed the strangeness he had felt when seeing you use a weapon so differently than him. But it hadn't mattered, because you had moved as one with the gun.

The only remembrance Bucky had of a small hope was when you had picked up the pistol. Your grip shuffled out of unfamiliarity, making your first shot come much later than earlier. But in the end, it didn't matter. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye.

Before he even had registered he moved, he felt his fingers clench into a fist, one which in return slammed into the wall. Despite his then newfound anger, he had noticed your shooting halted in a jerk as you spun towards him. As soon as your gaze met his, he saw your eyes widen and fingers reflexively flick on the safety, before you dropped the gun. It landed with a dull thud from the small distance it had fallen.

“What are you?” He felt the word ring in his head as venomously now when he thought back at them, as they'd done when he said them aloud. “Assassin? Hitman?…”, he had seen the quick flex of your jaw, along the tip of your head and your quiver in your lip before you bit down on them. “So hitman it is”.

“This is why I didn’t tell, it isn’t relevant”, he hadn’t expected your outburst, but now when thinking back on the event, he should've.

“Ain’t relevant?” The wince he had seen your body, most possibly, unconsciously make at the volume from his voice had made Steve snap out from his bystander role.

“Buck, she’s a former one. There’s a reason she is on the team, she hasn’t done it for many years”, he had heard Steves voice, filled with what he now afterwards could distinguish as hope, probably hope for him to calm down. But at the time he hadn't been able to do that. The betrayal he felt, both whether your sentiment had been out of care, pity or an order. And because you had withheld the fact of your true nature.

“So your help was that also fake?!”

“I didn’t lie about my degree thank you very much!” The way you had defended yourself, perhaps rightfully so, had made him ready to snarl a response at you. However, his words had died on his tongue when he heard the soft words leaving you on your exhale. “I cared Bucky, I still do…”, there was an explosion in his chest by the way you said it, he still could feel the traces if.

It had felt like pure happiness spreading through him, but instead of lingering in that feeling, he had closed it off. He had stubbornly wanted to believe what you said, but doubt and anger made him reluctant. It was in the shadow of those feeling his next words formed.

“How much can you truly care, you’re a paid murderer”, he meant them, but at the same time, he hadn't. His conflicting feelings made him unsure how to react when he had witnessed something break in you. But from fury, he didn’t want to take it back even if his conscience yelled him to do it. Something he wished he now had listened to.

“We are the same kind. We both are murderers. The only difference is that I got paid and you didn’t”, your voice was high pitched and even though tears had formed you raised your head higher, not letting them fall. “I-I didn’t want to do it in the beginning, for fuck sake!” He remembers how you'd glance at Steve and that was the moment he understood his friend somehow convinced you to do this, to help him.

“I only did it because Steve saved me, no matter what I did. So I only found it fair I would repay him with saving you”, Steve had saved you, he didn’t know how but his friend was the cause of you standing before him. It was in that second the blonde man had stepped before you, shielding you almost entirely from him.

“You shouldn’t have done it”, the words tasted bitter even now when thinking back on them. But truth to be told, his sentence wouldn't have ended there. He had wanted to say, you shouldn’t have made him trust you, fall for you, only to show him this, but his voice had died.

“Sometimes the only one able to understand is the one that suffered the same fucking thing, James Barnes”, your use of his full name, something you had never uttered before, somehow carved the deepest wound in his chest.

“Didn’t you say you trusted me?” Steve hauled him back from his memory by his question. In the absence of his mind, Bucky noticed his friend had come closer than before.

Looking at the blonde, he knew he asked the question to make him think about the first time he had met you. Already then he had felt calm with you, despite back then he had been wary of why. He also remembers that he had said he trusted Steve but...

“I never said I trusted her”, it was more that he spoke the end of his thoughts aloud, rather than actually meaning them. However, it seemed the blonde man didn't notice this.

“Jesus!” Steve cursed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Step down from your high horse and see past your anger, without her you wouldn’t be able to have gotten this good”, he tried reasoning and Bucky knew he was right, but the only reason he behaved as he did was because he knew. He knew he wasn’t only angry on Steve and you, but on himself as well. For how he acted, for how he hurt you. Because of this tug of war of feelings, he said one thing, and continuously meant another.

“I have every right to be upset, she lied”, he believed it, he genuinely did. But with the disappointing look that Steve gave him, Bucky wished it wasn't the case.

“She did it for you...”, Steve halted himself by taking a deep breath while rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t you see it? She’s done all of this for you. To a beginning, she may have done it because I asked for it. But, believe me, for once if any time now, that she wouldn’t have continued if she didn’t care for you”, Steve looked at him and for the first time, Bucky didn’t have anything to say. His anger still boiled, but he didn’t know if he had a good enough reason for it anymore, so he turned and walked out.

You’d looked forward to the party tonight, now you didn’t. Last night you had cried yourself dry, the memory of Bucky's confrontation on repeat throughout the whole night. You guessed, however, that your exhaustion of the event eventually had knocked you out. Albeit given a few hours of sleep, it felt like you hadn't rested at all when waking up in the morning. Your body felt heavy, mind occupied along with tears always present in your eyes.

It was purely because of your state, both physical and mental, you didn't dare exit your room. You wondered if your teammates missed your presence, although as the donation gala was tonight, you guessed they only thought you prepared for that.

Remembering the cause of your problem, you glared at the grey bag shielding the dress. It fault like it taunted you, where it was draped over your couch, and you debated on whether you should throw it out of the window or not.

“Y/N I thought I should…”, you were snapped out of your thoughts by Tony's voice and in shock, you looked at the billionaire who now stood in the opening of your door. His voice had died down, like his steps, as soon as he noticed you. His brows pulled together as he saw you sit on your bed, seconds away from crying. “Hey, what is it?” His voice had gone soft, much less boisterous than when he entered.

It was as if refraining from making a remark and preferably showing his gentler side, something that didn't often happen, made you break. You looked away from him to try and hide your tears, but it seemed he already had seen them. You heard him come closer, but not until he crouched down in front of you could you see him.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He took your hands in his, while his brown eyes tried finding what was wrong by studying your features. You felt muted to his stare, thus as soon as his question was asked, a picture of Bucky resurfaced. It was from the moment he realised what you had kept form him. Seeing the sheer look of anger and loathing painting his features in the memory, made whatever answer you would've given come out as a sob.

Quickly you saw how your vision got blurry and how droplets started to fall down your cheeks. Bothered by your reaction in front of the billionaire, you began to furiously wipe your tears away. It was not until Tony, similar to what Steve had done many times, swept you in for a hug you stopped. You had never received more than a friendly side-hug from him, so for a moment, you were taken aback by his unusual action.

“Tell me what happened”, at the same time he urged you to speak, he pressed you closer to him. It was the little shift that made you came back to your senses and wrapped your arms around him. “Is this why we haven’t seen your beautiful face around?” You couldn’t help the small, but in Tony’s eyes, miserable smile that spread on your lips.

“It’s Bucky…”, your voice let you down as another sob bubbled up in your throat, but you saw the lightbulb go off over his head when he figured it out.

Tony's brows furrowed when he really saw the distress you were in and what had caused it. He didn’t know you like Steve, the two of you practically seen as siblings by the team, but he knew the essential things. By the looks of it, something had gone wrong yesterday. There weren't many things that could elicit this reaction from you, which instantly made him realise what it implied. Bucky must've gotten to know what everyone else already did.

“So, that’s why mister spangle left in a fury yesterday", although Tony's chuckle was light and you knew he tried to make you feel better, the mention of Steve didn’t help. You hadn’t met him, or rather, he hadn’t come to visit you afterwards. You didn’t know what to believe, but something must’ve happened between the two soldiers after your and Bucky's confrontation. And if trusting the billionaire's words, neither had that ended well.

“I know it ain’t easy sweetheart, but trust me we’ll solve this”, Tony reassured you. “Especially if Barnes wants to stay”, a laugh escaped you, but it was more out of fear. You wanted him to stay, whatever he felt towards you at the moment, you couldn’t deny how you felt for Bucky. “I wanted to ask you about tonight, go over things a final time, but it seems I chose the worst time for it”, Tony murmured and you broke away from his embrace. You wiped away your final tears and took a deep breath before looking at him.

“It’s fine, I’m able to talk about it”, you tried saying confidently, a smile on your face.

“Ah, a beautiful smile at last”, Tony joked which made you chuckle.

“Don’t say that I don’t want Pepper after me”.

“And there’s the Y/N I know”, he cheerfully pointed out, which you only shook your head to.

What occupied your time for the next thirty minutes was exactly that, a final walkthrough of the evening. You discussed the events before the donations. The usual time for paparazzi to grab their pictures, but also for people to mingle around. It was not until later on in the evening, Tony would announce the surprise, the donations. He told you he had received confirmation that the representatives from the chosen organisations would attain. Much like everybody else, the associates were unknowing of the true intentions of the party. Therefore, the donations would come as a complete surprise. After the main event, the evening would simply proceed as it liked, which you from experience knew meant quite a few interviews for Tony.

“I don’t think there’s much more to go through by this point. If you don’t want me to hang around for longer?”

“It’s okay Tony, I think I’ll be able to handle myself until the party starts”, you smiled towards him, thankful he’d been here with you.

“Well then, just in case you forget I’ll send Nat here to get fixed with you”, he stood up before his expression changed into one of recognition. “I don’t even think I would be able to stop her when she gets to know”.

“You don’t need to tell her”, you very well knew how she could get when things like this happened.

“You know as good as me that I won’t be able to hide it from her”, you simply chuckled to what he said before bidding him goodbye.

As promised, or expected, a few hours before the party started, a knock came on your door. With a little lighter tone to your steps, you headed to the door to open it for Nat. However, you hadn't even been able to open it fully before a flurry of red hair stalked into your room.

“What doesn’t that идиот understand?" You hadn’t thought about the rather hard-knocking moments earlier, although the intensity of the word you didn’t miss. Despite not knowing any Russian, you knew she cursed him, having similar sounding words thrown your way during training.

“Hi to you too”, you said to her while closing the door. It seemed she didn't bother to greet you back, as you started walking over to where she stood,

“I’m glad we bought this dress, will at least make his sorry ass feel a bit remorseful”, you huffed out a chuckled to what she said, but not without a shake of your head.

“Don’t blame him, you would feel the same”.

“I blame him fully”, she began, before turning around. It was then, when meeting her gaze, you noticed her irritation. “I stand by what I said before this happened, regardless of how much you believe it, you were the defining piece in getting the man back. But he didn’t deserve it, by the looks of it”, she huffed the last thing out.

“Oh Nat...”, you hugged her, not knowing if her words actually helped, but you felt touched by them.

“Come on now, we’ll get you fixed up and try to enjoy tonight, it’s about you no matter what Stark does in your favour”, she held you on arm-lengths distance, a smile adorning her lips while she said it.

“I’m happy he’s taking the spotlight, he does it better than me”, you chuckled.

“That’s just what you believe”, the redhead answered while packing up your dress, placing it on a hanger.

Despite the stubborn arguing about who should get fixed first, you had won in the end. And by winning, you meant taking Nat by surprise and pushing her down in the chair to start with. From the moment she had been forced to admit defeat, things had fallen into a much calmer moment. You curled her hair while she busied herself by doing her makeup. Though you didn't complain, because she was the better one out of the two of you surrounding that, you questioned how the hell she could do it whilst you made her hair. 'Some can do it from the beginning' her answer had been, to which you threatened her to be quiet by saying you accidentally would burn her with the curling iron.

When you and Nat finally switched places, you felt untroubled as your heavy chest had become lighter. You would almost call it therapeutic, the way she combed your hair and put makeup on your face. However, when she said 'if you begin to cry now, the makeup will be ruined' you burst out laughing, the feeling of it being therapeutic gone. However, in the end, things had gone swiftly.

“Simple but elegant”, she stated, as she tapped your shoulder for you to examine your looks. As you opened your eyes, you immediately remember why you enjoyed Tony's parties.

“Right as you are”, you agreed.

“Go on and put on the dress now, then this”, she handed you the glossed lipstick she had grabbed from the table before shooing you away to fetch your dress and change. You chuckled at her, though a last pointed look from where she stood in her own fixed up glory, made you hurry into the bathroom.

While inside, you took your time to admire the work Nat had done with your hair and face. You would certainly not have been able to do such handiwork yourself, even if you had some skill. It was while carefully slipping into your dress, scared of destroying the garment with your makeup, you heard Nat’s voice from outside.

“She ain’t ready mister”, something ignited in your chest and you hurried to sip up the dress. Although, the moment you stepped into the main room, you knew it had been a hopeless thought that Bucky would've been the one standing at your door. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the slight disappointment when you saw blonde hair instead of brown.

“I’m ready, so speak for yourself”, you hid your feelings behind the remark when walking further into the room. It was when hearing your voice Nat turned to look at you, closely followed by Steve. A smirk pulled on the spy's lips, but it wasn’t her reaction which attracted your attention.

“Would you look at that”, his praise had been followed up by a whistle.

“Stop that, you’re gonna make a girl blush”, you waved your hand at the soldier who looked you up and down.

“Looking like that I have every right to”, a bashful smile followed and you could indeed feel your body heat up by Steves comment, as you came to stand with your teammates.

“Oh shush”, you lightly hit his arm, though as you began to draw your hand back, you were startled by Steve grasping it. Quizzically you peered up at him.

“I wanted to talk to you, before heading down”, he said. It was the slight narrow between his brows, the almost excusing tone before he even began, that made you understand what it was about. It was about Bucky.

“I leave you two to it then. See you there”, Nat understood the hint and walked out the door.

Although the door was kept open, both you and Steve stood inside your room. You looked at him, Tony had indeed gotten a good tailor for him. And Bucky. He’d chosen to wear a darker grey suit, white undershirt, a pair of shoes a shade slightly darker than the set itself. After doing this once over, you looked up at his face, the sad look more visible since Nat left you.

“You look good Steve, you’ll get some nice photos with the press”, you smiled, but he didn’t return it.

“Y/N don’t try and hide it”, he said and you felt your own smile drop, as well as your head. A sigh left you when you turned around, about to fetch your heels standing on the coffee table. Nonetheless, a gentle grip on your hand made you turn.

“I’m just going to get my heels if you don’t want me to go barefoot”, a smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and he let you go. While you turned around, he looked after you.

“Do you know he didn’t mean everything he said?” Steve noticed you gripped the heels tightly while sitting down on the couch.

“It sounded like he did”, you huffed sharply. Nevertheless your heated replay, Steve noticed your fingers trembled when you fastened the heels and how you chewed on your lip.

“The way you bite away your lipstick says otherwise”, he pointed it out and earned a look from you. However, the heat in it quickly faded.

“Steve, I don’t know if I’m able to do this”, you had thought back to why you were nervous from the beginning, the donation. That, together with Bucky knowing your past, seemed to crush you. You saw how Steve moved in the corner of your eye and looked up to watch him. It wasn't until he squatted down before you, his pants only letting him do so until a point where it looked mildly uncomfortable, your gaze stopped wandering and instead met his.

“I know you will, you’ve done it before”, he saw a protest was about to come, so he swiftly continued. “There’s a reason I’m here. First I’m sorry I haven’t come here to see you, I’ve been busy trying to get the fool to admit”, he sighed shaking his head before continuing “I wanted you to know that he understands he has done wrong, his stubborn ass just doesn’t want to confess it yet. He argues he has a reason to be angry…”

“And he does”, you cut him off, while glancing away momentarily. With a few blinks, a measure to avoid crying, you looked back to Steve, noticing he waited for your eyes to find his again before continuing.

“But at the same time, he knows he has no right to be. How you treated him is something he can’t see past, no matter how blind he is”, you laughed softly and at the sound, Steves sweet smile came forth. “So go and enjoy the night which happens because of you”, he urged softly and you shook your head, a smile adorning your face despite it.

“Sure, but I’ll do it merely so your pants don’t break, they weren’t made for squatting”.

“If that makes you come, then fine”, he laughed at your comment and raised himself from his position. Standing up, he offered you his arm and you couldn't but help but smile appreciatively at him.

Forever taglist: @flowerchild1216​ @haven-in-writing​ @krystallynx​ @lancsnerd​ @thejamesoldier​

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess​

[kiwi-stan]

Harry x Love Languages

So if you don’t know there’s this theory I guess that there are five different ways people show love and like for love to be shown to them, so then I started thinking about how Harry would be with showing love and what I think his love languages are. You can learn a little more about them and find out yours here. So this is just a lil thing about that!

Quality time

With Harry always touring and jetting off to exotic islands to make his albums, you don’t get a ton of time alone together. So, the time you do get together is precious, and I think he understands that, which is why this is first. Harry always tries to make the time the two of you spend together special. Even if you’re just hanging out at his house watching TV, he’ll be sure to have your favorite snacks on hand or maybe even try to bake something special (because I feel like Harry can totally cook). His status as a public figure makes “normal” dates like dinner and a movie hard, but he somehow manages to make it work. He finds a little hole-in-the-wall diner that’s always deserted and where most of the employees are about eighty and well out of the demographic of his fans so you can still go out for dinner like an average couple. And he has definitely rented out an entire theatre so that the two of you can go out to a movie together like an average couple. But even that dates that are just at his house are never really just “Netflix and chill” he always makes them fun and unique. One time you had a scavenger hunt, sometimes you’ll bake together, pillow forts are a favorite of his, and he will totally have a spa night with you including face masks and manicures because fuck toxic masculinity. When you come to visit him on tour, he’ll always be trying to sneak off with you, and he’ll want to catch up and hear everything that you’ve been up to since he’s been gone. Even though there’s millions of things going on around him, his attention is completely on you and your is completely on him. After being apart for months, how could you focus on anything but your partner?

Words of affirmation

Honestly, I’m basing this off his performances of Kiwi on tour. Harry loves to be praised and loves hearing nice things about himself and he would always do the same for you. You compliment him on his outfit right before he goes on stage and you can see him visibly puff up a little bit and he carries himself with a little more confidence because he’s just received a compliment from the person that makes the most to him and that means so much to him. And he always returns compliments right away, like after you compliment his suit he’ll respond by telling you how pretty you look. He’ll call you “beautiful” and “gorgeous” to the point where he uses those to address you more often than your name. But it isn’t limited to just looks, because Harry isn’t shallow. If you compliment him on how much energy he had during Kiwi or how natural his banter was with the audience, he’d love it. Similarly, he’d have lots of nice things to say about your personality or intelligence or athletic ability or anything that wasn’t just looks-based. And this totally translates to a praise kink during sex. He loves to hear how good he’s making you feel and how he’s the only one who can fuck you like this and he still gets off thinking about the first time you gave him a blow job and how you spent a few seconds just staring wide-eyed at his cock before finally saying “It’s big.” Just thinking about the innocent look in your eyes and those words leaving your lips gets him hard. And after a bad show, the best way to cheer him up is by giving him every compliment you can think of. You would remind him of everything he’s accomplished so far and how amazing he’d been doing with all of his shows so far and soon he would be feeling loads better.

Acts of Service

Harry’s a sweet guy, pretty much everyone raves about that. He likes doing things to help people, and he likes when people do the same for him. The downfall is, he’s been in the spotlight so long he doesn’t remember when it’s like to not have a personal assistant, so lots of what he does for you aren’t him but his assistant, which makes him feel a little guilty. He hates how when you’re craving chocolate he can’t run out and get it for you without causing a scene, so someone else has to do it. Similarly, sometimes you’ll want to do something nice for him only to find out he already hired someone to do it. Once when he was on tour you let yourself into his house with the intention of cleaning it so it would be in good shape when he returned, only to find a grandmotherly woman already there, doing exactly what you’d intended to. Of course, this doesn’t mean that Harry never does anything nice for you. He is definitely the guy to rub your back after a long day or to draw you a bath (and either join you or give you your space, whichever you prefer) when you’re upset. And of course, since you’re not in the spotlight like he is, you can do little things like run to the Starbucks across the street from the hotel when you’re visiting him on tour and buy him coffee.

Gifts

Harry wears Gucci 24/7, so he obviously appreciates the finer things in life. But he also has more money than you can even fathom, which makes this one a little weird. He doesn’t really like you buying things for him, and for him an independence thing. He has enough money to afford pretty much whatever he wants, and he prefers to buy it for himself. And he’d prefer that you spend your hard-earned money on yourself. He also has very particular tastes, which if you’re being honest makes it very hard to shop for him. He would rather buy something himself and be able to pick out exactly what he wants than have someone else buy it for him, knowing that they’re spending time agonizing over what to buy and maybe not even buying the right thing after all that. You aren’t really into him buying you things for the same reason. His taste is too flashy, which he pulls off magnificently, but doesn’t really work for you. The only gifts he does like are sentimental ones, even if it’s just something little. One Christmas you gifted him with your favorite book, writing a little note in the front cover that there was no pressure for him to finish it because just because you liked it didn’t mean he would. He read the entire thing in one sitting, and one time you caught him just reading over the note and smiling. One time you jokingly made friendship bracelets for the two of you. You expected him to lose it after a week, the way you had with yours, but he still wears it all the time. And if you have kids together, when they’re in that stage where they want to draw but all they’re really capable of doing is scribbling? His face lights up every time his baby presents him with another piece of construction paper with unintelligible marks on it. “Very nice, lovie. Tell me more about it,” he says, and listens as his baby babbles on about the drawing, already planning about where on the refrigerator he can hang it because that means more to him that any Rolex you could save up to gift him.   

Physical touch

Potentially controversial, but I feel like Harry isn’t super touchy-feely. He’s surrounded by people all the time, so even though he seems very extroverted, I think he likes his space a little bit. He still likes to cuddle and he’ll pull you close to him when you’re watching TV or let you sleep on his shoulder during a long flight, but I don’t think he needs the two of you to always be attached at the hip. After his shows when he’s running an adrenaline and full of energy he’ll run off stage and immediately scoop you up and hold on to your for a couple seconds and he gets very cuddly after sex, showering you with kisses and pressing your head to his chest, because he can’t go from being intimate to not even touching you. But I think he likes his space when he sleeps-the two of you on opposite sides of the bed, maybe even facing opposite directions with just your feet touching. And sometimes when you’re sitting on the couch together, you sit at opposite ends. I think that between touring and recording and all his fans, he doesn’t get a ton of alone time, so when it’s just the two of you he appreciates his space and you respect that. But he understands your needs too, and if you’re feeling like you need a little extra affection you come and rub up against him like a cat and that’s his hint that you’d like a few cuddles. And I don’t think he’s majorly into PDA either. He’s seen the hate comments the people that he dates get and he wants to protect you from that, meaning he won’t even hold your hand in public. Even when you’re just around friends he keeps the PDA in a minimum, maybe just holding your hand or putting his arm around your waist for a little bit. And you’re perfectly fine with that, because the last thing you need is hate thrown your way on social media.

[midnightghostwriter]

netflix and no chill

↬ summary: when lost in translation goes just a little too far to the wayside.

↬ genre: fluff

↬ pairing: chase/chacha malone x reader

↬ word count: 2.9k

a/n: another repost of an older work i did. istg i write stuff besides fluff, it's just all in the works rn. xP

It was well past time for the sun to be shining down on the harried faces of pedestrians shoving past each other on their way to any number of destinations. But the sun seemed much too tired to show her face, choosing instead to hide behind the silver-grey skirts of the clouds dotting the sky. The dim color had absolutely no bearing on the small spot of warmth blooming in you as you wove through the crowds to the AOMG office. It could begin pouring rain and you would probably still be smiling brightly to yourself.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had set foot in the place, though it certainly felt like longer than just a few weeks. Of course you understood that life for your musically-talented friends was beyond busy, and the last thing you expected was endless hours to spend with them. Their careers came before almost anything else, and standing in the way of something each and every one of them had been so long reaching for - you would never dream of it. Even so, you could only go so long without seeing them before something had to be done.

So here you were, pushing past the glass doors and waving to a few of the people scattered about the lobby. Rather than wait for the elevator, you slipped into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time to the studio floor. The faint sounds of music drifted into the hall from one of the rooms, and you followed it to a door sitting slightly ajar.

Inside you discovered Jay and Loco sprawled on the couch, lazily scanning their phones, though they had the presence of mind to look up as you snuck in. Gray stood at the mic, firing out lines too fast for you too follow, especially with the window between you and the booth blocking most of them. Most importantly, though, was Chacha seated before the impressive array of mixing equipment. Ignoring the knowing looks on the other boys’ faces and the way your heart thumped in your chest, you plopped down into the vacant seat next to him.

You had yet to say it out loud to anyone but Hoody, but you had developed something of a crush on him. What had begun as mildly enthusiastic fangirling over his talent, had unexpectedly grown into more, and now you were hopelessly infatuated. The two of you had bonded further over your shared origins outside Korea, though you had the advantage of a mother from Gwangju. Even so, the two of you had hit it off much to your delight, and it had become a common sight to see you either at his side or running off to join him.

Which was probably why even though the pair of you didn't say anything as you watched Seonghwa finish his verse, he still handed you a can of coffee that had been perched happily beside his own. You accepted gratefully, shooting him a beaming smile before popping the tab and silently chugging most of its contents. It wasn't nearly as involved as theirs, but your own work had been wearing you down as well, and you were happy for the pick-me-up.

As soon as the door opened and the booth’s former occupant took up residence with Jay and Hyukwoo on the couch, Chase turned to you, smiling so genuinely your stomach flopped.

“Hey, long time no see!”

“Jeez, you say it like we haven't spoken in years or something!” You laughed. He shrugged.

“Feels like it. You haven't been by the studio in ages.” It was your turn to let your shoulders rise and fall as you tried to play it cool.

“I know you've all been busy. I didn't want to get in the way.”

“That's a lame ass excuse,” Jay declared. “Y’know you're welcome here anytime.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm busy too.”

“Busy avoiding how deep in denial you are,” Gray chimed in. It took your brain a second to process the sudden switch he'd made to Korean, but when you had you sent him your darkest glare.

“Yah!” The other guys chuckled, though Chase just looked confused. For once you were grateful for his lack of knowledge with the language, as it saved you the immense embarrassment of explaining yourself. The others relentlessly teasing you was more than par for the course, but it didn't make you want to crawl down a hole any less. What came out of Jay’s mouth next didn't help in the least.

“Well I think that's everything for now. We’re gonna go get lunch.” Before you could open your mouth, the three of them fled the room, leaving you and Chacha alone.

“They could have at least invited us too,” you muttered. He watched the way you pouted and chuckled.

“Who needs them, let's go get lunch ourselves.” You looked at him, the implication of his proposition making your stomach do somersaults.

“Don't you wanna go catch up to them or something?” He scoffed and stood, holding a hand out to help you out of your chair. You accepted, letting him tug you to your feet.

“Nah, I see enough of them here during the day. Let's go.” As he began leading the way out of the office, his phone buzzed. Checking the screen, he rolled his eyes at Jay’s message.

You owe me.

A second later, it was followed up with,

Don't fuck it up.

Despite your initial hesitation to spend any extended time with Chase, lest you become a mess of butterflies and nerves, you made it through lunch without any problems. In fact, it was the most fun you'd had in a long while, and when you caught him grimacing at his phone your heart dropped.

“Sorry but I should probably get back.” Knew it. But you smiled in understanding and started gathering the remains of your meal.

“Those tracks won't mix themselves!” You declared cheerfully. When you looked up from tossing your collective trash, a look of hesitance had overtaken him. “What?”

“Do you wanna come over later?

“What?” You repeated, this time with an added edge of disbelief. His gaze slid away from yours and you realized you'd never seen him, the Chacha Malone, so obviously nervous.

“Well it's been awhile since we hung out, so I was thinking when I'm done at the studio you could come by... There's some new stuff out, so we could watch that and just, y’know, chill.” If your desire to not look like a ridiculous beached fish hadn’t won out, you were fairly certain you would’ve been gaping at him. Instead you swallowed and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Chase did you…. Did you just ask me to Netflix and chill?” Realization dawned in his eyes, before they melted back to his familiar dark brown, lighted with amusement.

“I guess I did,” he laughed. “Are you saying no?” This time it was you who hesitated, weighing the offer in your mind. After all, it didn’t have to mean what you thought it did, right? And even if it did, were you really going to turn that down?

“I’ll see you tonight,” you managed eventually, and the two of you went your separate ways out the door.

By the time you showed up at his apartment door, with what felt like an eternity left before the time he’d texted you earlier, you were a mess. A nervous, excited, and maybe even a little queasy, mess. You’d made an effort to wear more than just your typical couch surfing gear of sweats and a comfy tee, and even refreshed your makeup rather than removing it like you usually would have. None of it made you feel any better about anything.

The universe took pity, though, only giving you a few minutes to worry yourself senseless before the door swung open after you’d finally raised the courage to knock. You could see the weariness of the week catching up to him; not only in the faintly visible bags under his eyes, but also the fact that he was in a well-worn hoodie and jeans that made you feel supremely overdressed.

“Hey.” He moved aside, letting you slip past into the hall. “Did you come from somewhere?”

“Huh?” You looked up from taking off your shoes, meeting his eyes with your confused ones.

“You seem more dressed up than you were earlier.”  Shit. Forcing a quick smile onto your face and willing your cheeks to stop heating up, you nodded.

“Oh y-yeah, I met one of my friends at the mall earlier.” Before he could ask any more questions, you moved past him into the lounge, making yourself comfortable on the couch and he followed suit a moment later.

Picking something to watch wasn’t difficult as you both shared similar tastes in shows and movies. It was getting through the episodes that was proving to be difficult. You were so high strung you had forgotten what was happening at this point, and you couldn’t be bothered to focus enough to find out. What you were focused on, rather than whatever pickle the main character found themselves in, was how close you two were seated, how you could just feel his body heat seeping into your skin despite his sweatshirt, how if you moved a smidge to the left, you’d be basically leaning on him. None of these thing seemed to bother Chase, and that just made you all the more frustrated with yourself. You were beginning to think you had read way too far into his offer earlier that day, and he had meant exactly what he said - Netflix and chill the fuck out.

Then, it happened. What many considered to be the universal signal that things were stepping up a notch. When you had turned your head back to the television in an effort to actually pay attention, he shifted beside you, and suddenly you realized his shoulder you’d been carefully seated away from had moved. Oh.

Your companion showed absolutely no sign that he picked up on how your heart began to race or how you had frozen to the spot. Uncertainty ran like ice through your veins, a thousand questions spinning through your mind. Namely, however, was what the fuck were you supposed to do now?

After several elongated second of deliberation, you settled for playing it cool, trying to act as if nothing had happened. Yup, you had noticed absolutely nothing except how very interesting the show before you was. And so you continued to tell yourself, a mantra that lasted enough episodes that you actually felt yourself loosening up, your earlier tension dissipating.

But fate had other plans apparently, and all your hard work was undone a second later.

You had finally settled into a comfortable position, letting yourself lean into him just enough to be supported in your lounging; everything was right with the universe. But just as another episode ended, you felt eyes on you and turned to find Chase staring at you.

“Wh-what?” You asked, suddenly and inexplicably nervous. The racing thump of your heart in your chest went unnoticed as he leaned a tiny bit closer, still silent. As if on some kind of pre-programmed instinct, your eyes slipped shut and you held your breath. Warmth brushed your cheek and you felt heat lick its way up your neck to your face.

When nothing else happened after a few seconds, you finally opened your eyes, and Chase was still staring at you, this time looking bemused. Oh no.

“You had an eyelash stuck to your cheek.” You nodded at the simple explanation, shame and humiliation in equal part flooding your system.

“Thanks,” you muttered, almost inaudible, as you looked anywhere but him.

The second your eyes dropped from his and red flooded his cheeks, Chase knew he had fucked up. And fucked up hard. You looked positively mortified, and it was abundantly clear you had expected something more, something he was all too willing but too apparently oblivious to give.

Fuck.

He had always known he liked you. From the moment the two of you had met and you had been able to not only match wits with Jay but share the group’s appreciation for music and art, he knew. But getting up the courage to say anything was impossible, even with all the time the two of you spent together, or perhaps because of it. After all, what was the appropriate time to tell your best friend you were more or less in love with them?

It could have been then and now, a moment of utter perfection handed down by the universe through Jay’s attempts at matchmaking, but it had passed. Fled the scene in the wake of his blunder, its disappearance obvious in how you situated yourself as far from him as possible and tried to hide your embarrassed tears with your hair.

Uncertainty and panic of a nature he had never known swept through him at the sight. What if he had messed up everything? What if you stopped coming by the studio on late nights to remind them to sleep? What if your gestures of comfort when all of them became too frustrated to think ceased?

What if he lost you as a friend, all because he had been too dumb to read the signs?

The crashing wave of possibilities was intimidating, almost keeping him frozen as the tension rose. What would happen, he had no clue, but he did know that if something wasn't done, he'd probably lose it. Even if it destroyed everything, he had to try something because seeing you like this was killing him.

As if you were a small creature not to be disturbed, he reached over and swept up the remote. He watched you jolt as the press of a button made the screen go black and the room fall incredibly silent. Acting completely independently of the coherent thought that had been washed from his mind, his hand found your shoulder, turning you back to face him. Your startled eyes met his, wide and unsure, and surprised at the faint light of determination in his.

“Ch-Chase…?” His name as it passed your lips was barely a whisper, too hesitant to be much more than that. The tension crawled molasses slow along your skin, wrapping you in a tight and nearly suffocating embrace. It felt like an eternity with your gazes locked on one another’s, the feeling of drowning in his stare beginning to consume you when he finally leaned in and this time when you closed your eyes, you got exactly what you’d wanted.

What kissing Chacha Malone was like you couldn’t have hoped to guess. It was something you never thought you would get to experience. Yet as his mouth found yours, molding together in a way that was almost too perfect, you were struck with the notion that it was something you would give anything to do again. Your head tilted back in response, following the light touch of his hand cupping your neck to deepen the kiss. Restless fingers found the neck of his hoodie and tugged him even closer, wanting to get everything out of the kiss that you could.

The need for oxygen that had your lungs screaming in your chest was the only thing that kept you from pressing into him further, or begging with fingers cascading through his hair for something beyond the sensation of his lips against yours. Taking a moment to collect yourself and enough oxygen to think past your spiralling emotions, your eyes remained closed, missing the way his expression shifted into something along the lines of stunned or star-struck. He studied you silently as you finally opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze with pupils blown wide and lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss and, in short, perfect. A few moments later those lips split into a shy smile and you let out a soft laugh that made his heart warmer just hearing it.

“Well,” you started, slightly breathless even still, “that was… That was something.”

“Uh yeah,” he muttered. Now that the moment had passed, he found himself incredibly embarrassed that he had done something so rash. He supposed he was lucky you hadn’t utterly rejected him. That would have been infinitely worse.

“So…” Embarrassment was making the rounds now to you, and it brought with it a healthy dose of uncertainty. Where did this leave you? “I’ll be straight. I like you, and I’d really like it if you liked me too. But if this was just a one time thing tell me now so I don’t humiliate myself later.” His eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head.

“No, definitely not a one time thing. At least, I’d like it not to be. If, uh, that’s what you want too. Because I kind of, maybe, like you too.” A sly grin crossed your lips.

“‘Maybe’? That’s not good enough, Chase,” you teased, watching with utter amusement as panic set in, and he hurried to elaborate.

“Wait wait wait, I like you too! For real.” Another giggle escaped you and, feeling bold now, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad,” you told him, softer now, a matching smile replacing your earlier one. He returned it with a genuine grin of his own and slid an arm around your waist.

“So about that whole ‘Netflix and chill’ thing.”

“Don’t push your luck, slick.”

Wearing matching idiotic grins, the two of you settled back on the couch, much more comfortably entwined than before. As you engrossed yourself in the next episode, Chase slid his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text.

To: Simon I believe you and Loco owe Jay ten bucks. Just saying.