#I have anxiety about sounding rude over text so I have to clarify that the mood here is water cooler lunch break casual convo

[gas-station-trackphone]

what is ur opinion on the mtf trans richie headcanon? its kind of gay erasing isnt it?

personally, i love a trans Richie headcanon. usually i like fics with gay ftm richie or sapphic mtf richie. i dont read a lot of fic where Richie is a straight trans woman exclusively interested in men if that’s what you mean by gay erasing (bi Richie is my beloved but that’s a different conversation), partly because I’ve never seen a fic like that (im sure they’re out there though) and partly because it would feel too ooc for me if Richie of any gender identity wasn’t also queer in his sexuality. to actually answer your question, it doesn’t bother me that other people make that content if they’re just sharing their hcs respectfully like the rest of us, and hcs/fanfiction are more reflections of the creators than the characters anyway so i assume they have a personal attachment to that hc the same way im personally attached to mine.

tldr unless someone swerves into my lane im not gonna assume there’s any ill intent in making mtf Richie content, they can do their thing i just won’t read it if i don’t want to

[willowsallen]

it was very comforting reading you apologizing to those who thought your association with natalie meant you were like her, because i was one of those people. i was always afraid to reach any of you @ indigenousrph because i thought you were all entitled and hostile since lots of your psas and your answers were rude :( and i'm indigenous myself lmao only not from north america, so every time i was curious or i had doubts about other tribes and wanted to ask something it gave me a lot of anxiety and preferred not to. so... it's good to know, even if it's just words for now, you're not like her and that we'll probably find a lot more kindness in the rph blog from now on. and just to clarify in case it is needed: i'm not saying this in a bad way, i don't intend it to sound hostile or like i'm judging you because i'm not. i'm just sharing how i felt before ergo how important reading your apology felt and why. i'm really relieved natalie is out of the community, but mostly, out of the native community within the rpc because i don't know much about how other tribes work around the world, but mine is so welcoming and we fight so much to be seen and for our culture to be known that encountering people who act unkindly towards those who want to know us and want to support us was very unsettling to see/read. anyway, thanks for the space. hope everything just gets better from now on and i'll be paying attention in case i can be of use in any way to you or any other natives around!

thank you so much for sending this in. i'll approach each point separately so it's not just one big wall of text!

firstly, i wanted to address any of my behaviors that were off-putting. YES i have been less than 100% kind at certain times in my life. when it comes to psa's, what i can think is that i've been SO tired of either saying the same things, or constantly fighting for something, and seeing it not change or people not care, definitely does get to me. but now that i'm older (even by a fucking year or two) and in a field where my entire job is to be patient, kind, and compassionate, i have a different outlook. and for any answers to any public questions or anons i get, i apologize. because unless somebody is being outwardly rude, i shouldn't be getting an attitude when it comes to indigenous education. anything i may have said (and this is not an excuse) may have come from me having a bad day or being stressed out, or from me repeating myself! i know for one, i always talk about it doesn't matter how "much" you're indigenous. if you are, and you want to reconnect, then you're indigenous! and i've had many people over the years ask "but what about me!" and give me their specific instance. which yes... even you! but in regards to MY personal attitude over the years, that's on me. and if i don't feel like i'm in the right mind to answer something correctly or kindly, i'll take a day or ask others for insight on my tone or response. so i thank you for speaking about that because i WAS aware of it (after i did it and wasn't in the same mindset anymore) and felt guilty, but just... never spoke about it. secondly, i apologize again that my association with natalie has ever stopped ANYBODY from approaching me! i've seen it mentioned that people would ask dev (or even cat) questions because they didn't want to approach natalie, therefore they didn't want to approach me. i'm not apologizing because of MY behavior in regards to what natalie did (only apologizing for my behavior in the first paragraph) but i understand that many people had this sentiment. because who wouldn't! if you see somebody who's unkind to you or your friends, being hateful, bullying or belittling people, why wouldn't you think people who support them are also that way? i'll say it once and i'll say it again, i had NO idea natalie was being so unkind. i was probably one of the few people she never said anything nasty about anybody else to. but i promise that if you come to me on or off anon, i will do my best with what i can! and if i can't answer something, or don't have the emotional bandwidth that day (because truly my job takes a lot out of me + i'm stressed about starting grad school in a few weeks) i will let you know. lastly, i think i speak for all indigenous peoples here, we love any and all groups of indigenous peoples! it doesn't start and end with north america. any place where you are an indigenous person from deserves respect, a place to speak, and a community you can talk to. i know when it comes down to specific talks, it's always nicer to have people from your specific country (if not specific nation, if that's at all possible) but depending on where you're from (not just you, anybody) that may not be available in the rpc! so we're always here for you guys. just know that! i've never had an issue with my indigenous friends, besides natalie but she wasn't even indigenous so i'm not counting her. thank you again for sending this in and sending you so much love. and i apologize if i forgot something or didn't say something right - i'm honestly just free balling and posting without re-reading!

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha

Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.

Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

This is 2.4k words (approximately)

Later, you were just laying in your hotel room and watching some tv, or telly how they say over here. You wanted to get some sleep and maybe call your parents to tell them about the day. It was so crazy, you didn’t think they’d quite grasp how crazy, but you wanted to include them anyway. I guess maybe especially because of that. Tomorrow you guys had to be at the station super early for the Radio 1 Breakfast with Greg James. 6 o’clock you thought it was that David had told you. You might as well check with him and set an alarm already. So you went to grab you phone for texting him and got a text from an unknown number.

The contact you had saved as “Tom Holland” (with the air quote marks) was calling on Facetime. Shit. This couldn’t be him. Could it? Have you even given your personal number to the producer at Graham? Shit. Just answer it and kill Lukas. You pressed the green button and the screen was dark. There was some music in the background, but it was a little muffled. And sure enough, there he was. Smiling at the phone slightly bellow his eye level. He’s hot. You look like shit with zero makeup and your hair in a crazy pony tail.

“Hi!” He said laughing. “Do you believe me now?”

“Hi…this is embarrassing. Sorry! I have the worst friends and is just like them to try to pull a prank on me because of this” You answered.

“No worries, darling. I’m a little sad you’d think me texting you is laughable though.” He joked.

“You know what I mean! Like I said, Tom Hanks wanting to work together I would have an easier time believing.” You laughed.

“Maybe I want to work together. By the way, I’m glad you did, but for future reference, you probably shouldn’t use your personal number for these things.” He advised you.

“Well, it’s not like I have more than one number so…” You told him.

“Your agent’s then.” He clarified.

“I don’t have an ‘agent’.” You emphasized the last word.

“Well, you should probably get one then, darling. Trust me on this one.” He was walking and the music got louder for an instant and then muffled again. Looks like a bar or the outside of a bar at least.

“Are you in a bar?” You asked him laughing.

“Excuse me, not a bar, a PUB. And no, I’m on the sidewalk of a pub, actually. Going home.” He said. “And you are…?”

You were kind of getting what he wanted from you and that was kind of annoying actually. He’s a movie star for god’s sake. Can’t he get a girl in whatever pub he’s at right now? “Busy actually.” You answered him.

“Oh sorry. Terrible timing, huh? I asked for your number this afternoon, after the show. But the bloody PA just sent me it right now. He might lose his job for this. Took him a lot of convincing, ya know?” He was talking and walking, you could see he was clearly trying to start a conversation and all that in the middle of the street.

“So you just got it and couldn’t wait to text me huh?” You teased.

“Kind of, yeah. The two pints probably helped me build the nerve. I’m not usually like this. I barely facetime my friends.” He told you.

“And in the middle of the street. If you get mugged, I don’t want to be accounted.” You were relaxing a bit and sat on the bed leaning on the headboard. He laughed at your joke. Maybe he was just drunk and not really after a booty call. “I thought you british were famous for spending nights at the pub. Why you leaving so early, anyway?” You asked.

“Got to get up early tomorrow for a work out.” He answered simply.

“Of course you do” You said.

“And I much rather talk to you too.” He said.

Silence. What do you answer to that? Is he flirting with you? He’s definitely flirting with you.

“Ahem” He cleared his throat. “I really did liked your show, you know? It’s really something.” He said.

“You did? Thank you. Means a lot.” You said. “I’m still shocked it’s getting this much attention, to be honest.”

“Why? I’m shocked no one’s done it before. Is such a good idea. But maybe if they’ve done it, it wouldn’t be the same. Cause your presenting is probably what makes it that good.” He had stopped walking and you could hear keys juggling in his hand. “I live really close to the pub. I know” He laughed and you laughed back. “Hey!” He said to someone outside the screen and started to walk up stairs.

“Do you live with someone else? Your parents?” You asked.

“Uhh…no, no. I mean yeah, my mates Harrison and Tuwaine and my brother Harry. It’s just Tuwaine and his girlfriend downstairs though, I think.” He told you while taking off his shoes.

“Hey don’t go cockblock your friend now” You laughed.

“Never. And always.” He joked back. “Thought you’d be out enjoying London tonight, or were you planning on going out later?” He asked you in a thick accent.

“What? No, I’m a serious business girl. No time for shenanigans” You said laughing, so he’d know you were joking.

“Shenanigans” He laughed back. “Your English is better than mine you know?”

“Oh I’m sure” You answered sarcastically. “Flattering will get you far, but lying will not”

“I’m serious. If you haven’t said it today I’d think you’re American. You kind of have a New Yorker accent” He said.

“Yeah? ‘Fuhgeddaboudit’” You said in a thick accent and you laughed together. It was fun talking to him.

“What other languages do you speak?” He asked you when you stopped laughing.

“Portuguese, English…Spanish, Italian, a little bit, and German” You answered while counting your fingers.

“No way. Say something in German. By the way, I’m still here, I’ll just change these clothes.” He said while putting the phone on the nightstand and getting out of the frame. He was taking off his clothes, you thought. And he wanted you to say something in German.

“Nennen sie das Ärger?” You said, without thinking everything through.

“Now say the same in Portuguese” You heard his voice but didn’t see him.

“É isso que eles chamam de problema?” You said again.

“Yeah, portuguese is defenitely sexier.” He laughed and grabbed the phone again to sit on the bed. He was shirtless and with his head on the headboard of the bed. “What did you said anyway?”

“Excuse me, I wasn’t aware I’d have to translate it.” You mocked being offended.

“Oh so it WAS dirty. I thought I was imagining.” He teased you.

“You’re smooth.” You shook your head. “I’m still not saying it. You’ll just have to learn Portuguese, or German.”

“I’ll learn Portuguese if you teach me.” He said. “How long are you here for?”

“Just till tomorrow.” You said. “Flying back to New York tomorrow night.”

“More interviews?” He asked.

“Tomorrow’s the last one actually. But I’m traveling with David, he makes the show with me, and I’ve kept him from his fiancé long enough. That and we have to prepare for big meeting with executives next week, you know find an agent and stuff.”

“I could talk to my agent if you want to, he’s an actors agent but maybe he knows someone for other kinds of jobs” He said. “You don’t have a fiancé to get back to, do you?”

“No. No fiancé or jobs for that matter.” You laughed. “And I’m not even sure what kind of jobs would those be.”

“Publicity deals. If I had a brand, I’d want you to be the face of it. It’s the face of diversity and youth, isn’t it? It’s a beautiful face” He said.

“The face of diversity and youth?” You laughed. “Now you’re the one confusing me with Tom Hanks” You joked and he laughed out loud. “I could use some friendly recommendation though, on the agent thing. I don’t even know where to start looking and sounds like the type of thing you don’t want to ask the wrong people” You added.

“Yeah, sure. He’ll know someone for sure.”

“Thank you”

“Glad to help! Really!” He smiled at you. “So where you going tomorrow?”

“Breakfast show at Radio 1. Greg James I think” You answered.

“Oh he’s great! We were there today. You’ll have a great time! It’s a bit early, no? Am I keeping you from sleep? Do you want to hang up?” He was cute, all concern and stuff.

“Yes, yes and no. I’m enjoying you keeping me from sleep.” You said. Maybe it was the time, but that was kind of bold Ana. Good job?

“Good. I’m enjoying it too.” He said while you were getting under the duvet, getting cozy. “Are you enjoying London? What’s your favorite place so far?”

“I loved what I’ve seen from the car window” You answered sadly. “And all the studios we’ve seen.” You laughed a little. “But since we’ve landed it’s been go go go.”

“That’s a great song though.”

“I can’t believe you got that reference.” You said surprised. You love The Maine.

“I love The Maine. Honest. ‘Where I come from you learn to make the best of things’”

“‘But honey since we’ve met you know you’ve had the best of me’” You mock singed together and laughed when you finished the verse.

“OH MY GOD DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME?” He joked while laughing.

“YES! AND WE CAN GET ON THE ROAD CHASING INDIE BANDS ON TOUR?” You joked back.

“I mean, that’s the dream, that’s the dream.” He said. “I can’t believe that you haven’t seen London though. Wish you’d stay longer, I could take you some places. If you’d like, of course” He said.

“Don’t you have work? I though movie stars didn’t have time for tourism in their own home town” You teased.

“I’m sure movie stars don’t. Good thing I’m not one.” He said smirking.

“Ok, and where would you take me then?” You asked. Where you really contemplating extending your trip just right now? Get a grip on yourself woman.

“Uh, I don’t know. Parks?”

“Parks?” You laughed.

“And pubs.” He laughed too. “To be honest those are the only places I go to when I’m home. I take my dog on walks and drink with friends.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad life to me.”

“No, I guess not.”

You guys kept talking for hours about everything and nothing. Favorite music, food, drinks, spots for each of those in different cities. You lived in NY but had lived in Berlin before and he was interested in that and you were very interested to hear about the places he’d been, but mostly about London.

“So you actually live here?” You asked him.

“What you mean? London? Yeah.”

“But don’t you work more in LA and stuff? You have a place there too?”

“Uh, no, actually. I don’t work there as much. No as much to justify getting a place anyway. If I’m honest, I haven’t stayed in the same place for too much time, unless I’m off work. And then I’ll be here. Closer to the family. Friends. You know.” He told you.

“That’s nice. It sucks to be away all the time”

“You probably know what I mean. There was a time I was considering getting a place in LA, you know, that whole Hollywood thing. And I was kind of seeing someone there at the time, so that might have had some influence in the decision. We were looking at houses and they were amazing, huge and crazily luxurious.”

“You were going to move in together?”

“No, she was just helping me look for places. Anyway, it didn’t worked out and in the mean time I found this house here so it was for the better I think.” He was opening up to you. “That’s really not for me. That whole life. Mansions, cars, the paparazzi.”

“Listen, I’m not sure how to break it to you. But you might not have chosen the best work line then.” You joked.

“No joke” He laughed. “I know it’s part of the job. At some extent. But I don’t need to go looking for trouble too. This way I’ll just deal with all that when I’m at the states and here I can focus on something else. Spend that money with something else. Spend my time with people that I actually care about and care about me. You know?”

“I like your mind” You said without thinking and there was a while of silence between the two of you.

“I think that’s the best compliment I ever gotten” He said.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” You blushed.

“I know. And that’s why.” He smiled. “I like your mind too. I like that you don’t filter it. You’re genuine” You had blushed and closed your eyes at his compliment. When you opened them he was smiling at you. “You have the most amazing green eyes, you know that? They’re beautiful. And smile too. I love your smile.” You turned your head to the side, like you didn’t understand what he was saying, but you did. You were only studying him.

“Where you getting at Holland?”

“Can I see you tomorrow? Will you have sometime after your interview?” He asked.

“Yeah. I have the day actually, my flight is not until 11 at night, I think. When you want to meet?”

“I can pick you up right after and we can grab some lunch, sounds good?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect” You said and looked at the clock, it was 02:38 in the morning. “But I should probably try and get some sleep now, or I won’t be a real person tomorrow.” He touched the screen on his phone, probably looking at time himself.

“Shit, that’s late. Sorry, I didn’t felt the time” He apologized.

“Me neither” You smiled. You wanted to say more, like how amazing it was talking to him and that’s why time flew like that, how you haven’t felt that in many years. But you didn’t.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now. See you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Holland” He laughed. “What?”

“I like how you call me by my last name. Sounds good. See you tomorrow (y/l/n)”

“I liked how mine sounded in your English accent”

“Yeah? Did I pronounce it right?” He laughed.

“Close enough” You laughed. “Alright, good-bye now”

“Tchau” He said while you hanged up, catching you by surprise.

You couldn’t believe what just happened. Oh boy indeed. You were sure you weren’t even going to be able to sleep tonight, smiling in the dark to yourself like that. Get a grip woman.

[hermionemonica]

The Road to Us, and Everything in Between: Chapter 2

(This is a no magic AU. There is no existence of the Miraculous or the superheroes in this universe.)

AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 

As time went on, Marinette felt distances creeping between her and Nathaniel. They still talked to each other over calls, texting and social media, and even met up with each other every once in a while. But all that grew more and more seldom. And for Marinette, this felt different. Of course, her affections for Nathaniel still remained unchanged, but it felt kind of liberating to not have his presence constantly looming over her life. And with the alone time Marinette now had away from Nathaniel, she found herself constantly rethinking her life and decisions. About what she chose, about what could have been.

Marinette had always had a habit of talking to herself. Now every time she felt herself falling into dejection, she would whisper to herself over and over, “I chose this. This is my life now. This is what my life will be from now.” That did wonders to push the fears and insecurities to the back of her mind.  

But as days passed, it started to get harder and harder. After all, it is an inexplicable pain to see the one you love right in front of you, be with them, all the time knowing that they'll never be yours. Being around him didn’t do anything to help her move on from him, even if she tried.  

Gradually, the secrets and the pretences began to take a toll on her. And with the new university and her fashion courses, it was all too much for her. She felt herself giving in to the pressure. Designing or baking did not work their therapy on her anymore. And the first thing she did when things started getting bad was slowly cut off Nathaniel. Not that she wanted to. It was just she couldn't trust herself to not explode in front of him. And after everything the boy had been through, the last thing he'd want was the only person he trusted to go off on her. So the only solution that she saw was to stay away from him. Only, she could not come up with an appropriate excuse. The poor boy kept asking her what was wrong, but Marinette would say she was fine. Until one day she snapped.  

Marinette was having a particularly rough day, after she had accidentally dropped her sketchbook, which held her designs that she had been working so hard on, right into the waters of the Seine. She had retrieved them, of course, but her work of weeks was ruined. She had shut herself in her room and decided to bury herself in her designs till she redrew them. It probably wouldn’t be as perfect as the originals, but she needed to submit something the next day to pass the class.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel chose that very evening to call her. Marinette ignored his calls and messages for a while, till the alert sounds were getting on her nerves. She finally picked up the phone and asked, “What is it, Nate?”  

If she sounded grumpy or bitter, Nathaniel obviously did not notice it as he went on a ramble about how a cute guy on the subway had complimented him on his blazer.  

“And this is what was so important that you called me for like, 17 times?” Marinette cut him off mid-rant.  

That was when it registered in Nathaniel's mind. “Uh, I thought you'd like to know,” Nathaniel spoke nervously.  

“Maybe I would, but not everyone necessarily has the time for this! Take the hint when I wasn't answering your calls or replying to your texts.” Marinette replied acidly.  

“What is wrong Mari?” Nathaniel sounded concerned.  

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Marinette was beginning to lose her temper. “It just happens that you don't seem to realise that some people might have more important stuff going on than just a random guy complimenting you on your clothes!”  

When there had come no reply from the other end, Marinette quickly disconnected the call and switched her phone off. She had too much on her hands at the moment.  

Marinette had fallen asleep at her table, sometime in the middle of the night. In the wee hours of the morning, she woke up to find a string of messages from Nathaniel, which he had sent right after the phone call the previous night.  

“So, this is it? I... I don't matter anymore? It’s okay, Marinette, I get it. I was just an unnecessary burden that you were carrying around although you didn't have to. This had to end sometime, right? After all, we both know very well that I'll never be able to give you what you want. I am only holding you back from everything that you could have, everything that you deserve. I'm sorry for everything Mari, I hope you can forgive me. Take care Marinette, and be happy. I promise I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye.”  

Marinette had not seen this coming. She couldn't deny that she had been a bit too harsh in her words the previous night, but was it that bad? Had she made it sound like she didn't want Nathaniel to be around her? She tried to remember what exactly she had said, but to her anguish, all of it was a blur. In exasperation, she kicked against the side of her desk, only to wince back in pain immediately afterwards. Surely, the voice in her head kept saying, this can't be happening. Nathaniel wouldn't just leave just because Marinette had said some harsh words, right? Their relationship was too above that, of course! After everything they had been through together, a little miscommunication couldn't possibly be what would break it! Over and over she read Nathaniel's texts, trying to make something out of it, something less painful. She tried to read between the lines, desperately trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening.  

The only reason she dragged herself out of her house an hour later was because she had to submit the designs that day. And the only reason she had left her phone without replying to Nathaniel was because she was scared that she might mess it up further.  

Three agonising hours later, Marinette sat in the cafeteria. Anger coursed through her. Anger at Nate, anger at herself, anger at the stupid deadline! As she desperately tried to reign in her temper, because that was what had caused the entire mess in the first place, she found herself regretting her decision to leave her phone at home. At least she could have called Alya and talked to her. At one point of time, Marinette had been glad that no one from her old school was in the same university as her, because then she could put everything behind her and start her life without the lies. It didn’t seem that convenient anymore. She wished she could talk to someone, anyone, right now. But since there was no way to do that, she went back to sipping on her iced tea to soothe her nerves.  

“Are you okay?” said a voice from behind Marinette, as a hand was laid on her shoulder.  

Before Marinette could turn around, the intruder came into her range of vision as he seated himself at her table.  

It was Adrien, and he was looking at her with concern in his emerald hands. Did she really look that terrible? Marinette asked herself. More importantly, what could she answer to Adrien, when he didn't even know anything about Nathaniel? But then again, she was stuck in the university for at least two more hours, without a phone and no one but Adrien to talk to. Adrien was the only friend she had for now, and Marinette felt she would combust from the stress if she didn't talk sometime soon. Sure, once she figured out how to begin.  

“It's umm... you know, about this boy,” she struggled through her words.  

Immediately, Adrien perked up. “Boy? Crush? Ex? Boyfriend?”  

Marinette felt a smile creep up onto her face in spite of herself. “Let's not use any labels, okay? It’s a bit too complicated for that,” she clarified.  

Adrien wiped the silly grin off his face and looked on with interest, silently urging her to continue.  

“So we had kind of an argument last night, and I may have been a bit rude to him. In my defence though, I was stressed beyond limits. And this morning, I woke up to a bunch of texts from him, saying that... that,” Marinette faltered. How do you put that into words?  

Luckily, Adrien seemed to have understood what she was trying to say. “That he’s leaving you for good,” Adrien offered.  

“Exactly,” explained Marinette. “Except that I meant nothing like that and he took it all the wrong way and he thinks I want to get rid of him and oh so I feel so angry at him right now because after all this time how could he misunderstand such a simple thing and I-”  

“Woah there,” Adrien interrupted. “Slow down. Maybe drink a bit more of that drink you've got there.”  

“Iced tea,” murmured Marinette, “soothes my nerves.”  

That was when she realised that her hands were shaking so badly that she could not even hold the glass in her hand. And on the top of that, a pounding began in her head.  

As she clutched her head in her hands, Adrien reached over. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked.  

But Marinette could not hear him over the incessant buzzing in her ears. Breathing had never felt so difficult, it was as if something was blocking her trachea.  

Adrien could see Marinette gasping for breath, and shaking uncontrollably, and it scared him. What was happening to this girl? It took him a moment to snap out of his fixation, but then he got up and picked Marinette up in his arms, rushing to the nurse's office, ignoring all the odd looks he could feel on him in the corridors.  

The nurse injected a mild tranquillizer into Marinette's blood. It took effect pretty soon, and soon Marinette had drifted off into a dreamless slumber.  

“It looks like your friend over here has had an anxiety attack,” the nurse explained to Adrien. “Is she under medications for such attacks?”  

Adrien simply looked on with bewilderment.  

Either he is too stressed out to comprehend my words right now, thought the nurse, or he seriously has never heard of an anxiety attack. Deciding on the former, she went on, more gently, “Has she ever had spells like this before?”  

Adrien looked down, his expression guilty. “I-I don't know. I don't spend much time with her.”  

The nurse shook her head. “Well, I am guessing by how freaked out she was when you brought her in that she is as unacquainted with these attacks as you are, young man. Whatever be it, I need to contact her parents. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you said?” The nurse asked as she scrolled through the student records on her computer.  

Adrien nodded.  

“I assure you that your friend will be okay, you may take your leave if you have classes you need to be at now.”  

Adrien took a glance at his watch. His class had started fifteen minutes ago. Since he was late anyway...  

“No,” he confidently lied to the nurse. “I don't have any classes for another hour.”  

“Fine,” obliged the nurse. “Do keep the young lady company while I go call up her parents.” Adrien silently sank down on the edge of the bed Marinette was asleep on. As he stared at her face, he noticed how ill she looked. The colour had faded from her cheeks, and dark bags hung under her eyes. What could have been so terrible that upset this amazing girl like this?  

Marinette's parents came in some time later. Adrien noticed the stark difference in their appearances. While Marinette's mother, who looked and dressed Chinese, was a small woman like her daughter, Marinette's father could aptly be called a giant of a man. They seemed like very nice people, by the way they talked to the nurse. Mrs Cheng assured the nurse that her daughter did not have any history of anxiety attacks. In that case, the nurse advised them, they should get their daughter a professional check-up at the earliest. They thanked the woman for her help and turned to leave.  

As Mrs Cheng left the room with her daughter leaning onto her, still not quite awake, Mr Dupain stopped at the door. He turned to look at Adrien standing there, and Adrien couldn't help but be intimidated. But Mr Dupain had the kindest of expressions on his face as he grabbed Adrien's hand and firmly shook it. “Thank you for taking care of my little girl,” he whispered gratefully.  

Adrien was surprised to know that the huge man could speak in so low a voice. “It was a pleasure,” he smiled in acknowledgement.  

After he left, Adrien wondered if he had even done anything that special to receive such warm gratitude. “Taking care of” Mr Dupain had said. Funny, thought Adrien, for anyone would probably have done the same if a friend went through something like that in front of them. Nevertheless, Adrien decided that the Dupain-Chengs were probably affectionate people by blood.  

[blu-joons]

Fans Attack You At The Airport ~ Kim Taehyung

Your holiday was perfect, you came home feeling refreshed, you’d had a week with your friends, no phones, no noise, just the peace and quiet of the beach, and lots of drinks to keep you going.

Landing back home you were immediately greeted with a rainstorm, the harsh reality that your holiday was over hitting you. You ran from the plane to the terminal, grabbing your phone from your rucksack, switching it on to see a few texts from Taehyung.

He had agreed to pick you up from the airport, desperate to see your face, a week away from you was enough for him to miss you greatly. You stood aside, replying that you had safely landed, allowing the other passengers to pass you by.

The airport was always busy, but as you turned to enter, you were immediately greeted by a large group of Army, squealing your name. Without the rest of the boys you were left stranded, without security, without anyone to help you get by.

“Hi guys,” you politely smiled, “I’d like to get home if you don’t mind.”

“We just want to say hi,” one of them whined, reaching out to grab you. Their hands brushed your wrist which you quickly yanked away. “Y/N, come say hello!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

As word got around that you were in the airport, the crowd around you grew. You soon found yourself unable to see a clear path home, every direction there was someone screaming your name.

Your anxieties grew as no one around you seemed to notice your tricky situation. The last thing you wanted was to make a fool of yourself in front of the fans, knowing you’d be ridiculed about it for weeks on social media.

“Please guys, can you just let me head out of here, or give me some space.”

None of them seemed to listen as your voice disappeared in amongst the loud screams.

“Where’s Taehyung? Have you broken up?”

“No!” You quickly clarified. Any chance they got the fans would try and rubbish your relationship, creating any rumour they could to create that headline.

“Take a photo with us! Say hello! At least look at us Y/N!” There was one ringleader who stood right in front of your face. She was much taller than you, and a lot louder, controlling the surrounding group. “Are you going to be rude?”

“I won’t be rude if you guys just respect my wishes please.”

“Respect ours. We want a photo.”

In a panicked state, you decided to try and push your way through the crowds, but it came to no avail. The fans stood their ground, following your every step so there was no gap to pass through.

By this point your heart was pounding, beads of sweat were running down your body. The whole airport felt like it had shrunk down so it only wrapped around you, the commotion was becoming unbearable.

Outside Taehyung began to wonder where you were, your flight landed over an hour ago and yet you were nowhere to be seen. He tried to ring you, but you didn’t pick up, only worrying him further.

He slammed the dashboard of his car in frustration, climbing out, making his way over to the airport.

As soon as he walked in he was greeted with the loud screams, following them to see a huddle of fans. Instantly he knew, a lump ran down his throat, as he spotted your shoes in amongst the crowd. He was never one to raise his voice, but as soon as he saw the way you were treated he flew into a fit of rage. You didn’t ask for this life, you didn’t deserve to have to go through this.

“Move!” He shouted.

His husky voice was instantly recognised, the majority of the fans turning to look at him. Their eyes went wide, hands covering their mouths in surprise. “V!”

“Step aside so I can get my girlfriend home.”

He wasn’t prepared to give the fans the time of day, they weren’t fans, not if they treated the one he loved like they did.

His hand reached out, grabbing yours, you looked up, sighing in relief once you saw who was holding you. He quickly pulled you into his chest, giving you a moment to compose yourself as a few tears fell. Your hands gripped tightly to the material of his shirt, hiding your face so none of the fans could see you. Without a word he took you to the car, shielding you from everything around you, helping you into the car safely.

It was then that you broke, tears streamed down your face as Taehyung held you, rocking you from side to side. His hands ran through your hair, using the bottom of his shirt to dry your tears.

“I-I’m sorry,” you blubbered.

“Jagi, no. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault. I’m so sorry the fans treated you this way, I’m so ashamed right now. I can’t begin to imagine what you just went through, especially all by yourself, someone should have been there, I should have been there.”

Over time you calmed yourself down, your tears slowed and your breathing settled. You moved out of Taehyung’s arms, looking over into his eyes. “I was scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I was too. I thought the worst when every person that came out of that door wasn’t you. I should have come sooner, I should have known something wasn’t right.”

“It’s not your fault Taehyung, you can’t blame yourself for this, at all.”

“But I’m the reason you were in that situation. It’s because of me and my stupid job that you were swarmed and that they all recognised you. It’s because I didn’t react quick enough you nearly had a panic attack with hundreds of supposed fans around you.”

You cupped the side of his face, bringing his rant to a close. “Look at me, I’m fine, aren’t I?” He nodded slowly, carefully studying your face. “Right, so let’s just forget about it, I think the fans have learnt their lesson to stay away anyway the way you shouted at them.”

“I didn’t mean to, my protective instinct just took over and I knew I had to get you out of there as quickly as possible.”

“It was cute,” you teased, “I’ve never seen that side of you before.” You leaned across peppering a kiss to his lips. “Let’s just head home, I’ve got loads of photos and goodies from my trip to show you.”

“That sounds amazing, I can’t wait to have you back where you belong, it’s not been the same without you.”

---

Masterlist

[illictaffrs]

There is Love in the World - The Happy Ending (John Luther/Alice Morgan)

And here it is! The first of three endings, and you’ll be glad to know that this one ends happily (unlike the finale).

I’ve also uploaded this fic onto AO3, so here’s the link if you’d rather read it on there:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326028

Hope you enjoy it!

It’s dark by the time she makes it to George’s back garden; the preparations took longer than she had anticipated. She’s missed this, the careful planning of a murder, she’s missed how grounded it makes her feel. There’s more control, more power. It’s the opposite of how she feels around John. With him, it’s more unpredictable, similar to the scientific phenomenon that is a black hole, but less...evil. They suck each other in, collide each time with more intensity than the last. She’s certain that, if they wanted to, they could destroy anyone or anything that stood in their way. The same way a black hole would: by dragging them in and crushing them, making them nothing.

Which is exactly what she intends to do with George Cornelius.

Maybe the two feelings aren’t so different after all.

Regardless, there she stands in his garden, surrounded by perfectly trimmed bushes, carefully watered plants, and...is that a shed filled with shotguns?

Oh, this is almost too easy.

Barely a minute passes before Alice has ditched her own weapon in favour of one of George’s many shotguns.

Yes, she thinks, letting a sinister grin form upon her lips, this will do nicely.

He spots her before she’s even fired the first bullet. No problem there, she’d rather he knew who was going to be responsible for his demise, she likes to have her brilliance recognised.

A look of pure horror passes over George’s face, but no sooner has it appeared when dozens of armed policemen storm into his house, shouting and screaming and shooting. The horror has been replaced with a glint of amusement, and Alice wishes more than anything that she could stay and cut it off his face, literally.

But unless she wants to die here, that simply isn’t an option anymore. She makes a dive to the right, only just avoiding what could have quite easily been a fatal shot. Her legs just manage to make it to the back gate when a sharp jolt of pain sends her stomach into a state of bloody mess. Fabulous, back for three days and shot twice. She’s must be breaking all kinds of records.

“Do not move!”

George holds his hands in the air, a sign of surrender, but not defeat, not just yet. Schenk looms above him, a teasing smile on his lips. But George doesn’t even notice, he has one last trick up his sleeve.

He’s pinned down and handcuffed, but he bides his time until it’s only him and Schenk left in the room, then he strikes.

“Martin, I think it’s time you and I discussed getting me some legal protection.” It’s a subtle move, but the first of many.

Schenk misses it entirely, too focussed on the death of one of his own, one of his friends.

“I can’t put it together, George. I’ve tried, but I can’t work out what happened.” There’s no fight left in his voice, only a tired noise of defeat.

“I need a show of good will,” he continues, gathering what remains of his strength, “an upfront payment. Right now.”

There’s no command, no discussion, just one of Schenk’s men entering the room and uncuffing George.

He plays it safe, and, remaining silent, hands Schenk his phone, the image of John hovering over a body glaring on the screen.

The shock and disbelief on the other man’s face gives George the sign he needs to open his mouth and condemn John Luther.

“I told you, Martin, your lad’s a wrong’un.”

Schenk momentarily clears the mist in his head, it’s clouding around him, surrounding him and he knows if he’s not careful, it’ll eat him up inside. But he manages to ignore it long enough to issue a warning to Halliday.

“Hey, boss.”

“DS Halliday, are you with...DCI Luther?” The exhaustion in his voice shakes her for a second, but she regains her composure and answers him steadily.

“Yeah, I am.” There’s a hint of defiance in her voice, as though she’s trying to lift the uncertainty from Schenk and continue the conversation normally, without the mist threatening to consume her too.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her attempt fails, and his voice sounds even more full of grief than previously, she tries not to wonder why.

“Without alerting DCI Luther to this order, I need you to bring him back to the station as soon as possible.”

“Ok, yeah.” It’s hard for her not to ask questions, and even harder to try and remain calm in front of John, when it’s just been hinted at that he is a danger to her.

“If you alert him to this, there is every chance that he will run.” Schenk’s voice takes on a more confident tone, with an edge of anger building up and threatening to seep over.

“Do you understand me?”

Halliday takes a breath, just about staying calm and responding in her usual chirpy voice.

“Yep, got it.”

“Good. Now get him back to the station. Tell him...I have some interesting news, and I want to give him it face...to face.”

The call ends, and Halliday lets her own mask slip for just a second, allowing confusion and anxiety to write across her face.

John picks up on it immediately, and Halliday curses herself for letting him read her so easily.

“Schenk has asked you to bring me in, hasn’t he?” There’s a long sigh before he speaks, and Halliday wonders if it’s one of irritance or anger. She hesitates, then decides there’s no point in lying if he already knows.

“Erh, yeah. Yeah...he says that he’s got some news, something he wants to tell you?” She intends for it to be a statement, but by the time she’s finished, it resembles more of a question.

“Fair dues.”

The rest of the journey is made in silence. That is until they pull up outside the teacher’s house and John takes the opportunity to clarify where they stand.

“I’m not going anywhere until this...is dealt with.” It’s a risky move, he knows that. It could result in Schenk coming after him himself, but it’s one he has to make, otherwise, they’ll never catch Lake.

He doesn’t catch Halliday texting Schenk.

When it’s all over, and Lake is slumping miserably in the back of a police car, John approaches Halliday.

“Catherine, I owe you an explanation.” He pauses, giving her a chance to put in an input, but realises she just wants him to carry on.

“Schenk...Schenk is more than likely under the impression that I’m responsible for two recent murders.” Once again he gives her time to react, but glancing up at her face sees only a prompt to elaborate. God, he thinks, this woman is too nice.

“I can’t tell you much else, and I’m sorry for that, but I just need you to know that I didn’t do it. This is nothing more than a huge misunderstanding that, unless you let me leave right now, could get blown way out of proportion.” He exhales, lets out the breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. For once, he struggles to read the expression plastered onto his partner’s face. Whether that’s a mercy or a curse he isn’t sure of.

It’s only when she answers him that he realises he’s got this woman all wrong.

“Am I going to be able to stop you from leaving?”

The question throws him off guard; of all the things he’s been expecting (a panicked frenzy; an emotional speech; or even just handcuffs and a silent condemnation), this blunt, straight-to-the-point assessment was not one of them.

“I-erm...no, not really.”

“Then that’s that. If it’s not going to be possible to prevent you from running, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Pure admiration shines on his face.

“Go on boss, what are you waiting for?”

And so he runs.

He’s only made it as far as the second corner when he sees her. Red hair dishevelled and untidy, face scrunched up, mouth turned downwards and icy blue eyes glassy and bloodshot. She’s making her way towards him, clutching her stomach and half bending over. It terrifies him, and for a moment he comes to a sudden stand-still.

“Don’t just stand there!”

The tinge of alarm embedded in her words would have been enough to wake him up from his momentary slumber, but it’s the way her voice cracks as she speaks that really does it for him.

He’s at the top of the street and next to her before he so much as take another breath. It’s lucky too, because the second he reaches her, her legs give way and her body collapses into his arms.

“This feels awfully familiar,” manages Alice, adding a forced laugh at the end in hopes of lessening the ever-growing seriousness of the situation.

Her efforts are pushed aside as John aims a glare at her so intense and full of emotion that it forces her to turn the other way.

“Alice, what have you done? What happened?” A certain panic enters his tone, mirroring Alice’s from only seconds ago.

Shrill laughter fills the air around them, bitterness and anger and pain all rolled into one as Alice admits her failure, “Turns out I couldn’t do it either, how ironic!”

An element of unstableness is present in her revelation, and John is reminded of their exchange on the phone so long ago, the one he tried to cover up by telling his colleagues it had been his ex-wife, and not a certain malignant narcissist.

Right now, however, he’s more confused than anything else.

His bewilderment is expertly picked up on by Alice; nothing else could be expected really.

“Kill George,” she clarifies, sucking in a breath and steadying herself against John, “Your big boss interrupted us with his gaggle of armed policemen. You really ought to explain to him that I was only trying to do him a favour.”

She’s pouting now, toying with him by trying to appear more innocent than she’s ever been in her whole life.

“Rather rude of them to open fire, don’t you agree?”

Her mask is back on, draped across her face in an attempt to convey humour, rather than the sense of dread that dangles above her.

John, ever the gentleman, wraps his arm around Alice, careful not to aggravate her wound but still adding the extra support she won’t admit she needs.

“We need to move, get you somewhere safe. If Schenk knows you’re alive then we’re in more trouble than I thought. I’m not exactly in his good books right now.”

This time Alice doesn’t need to fake a laugh, if John didn’t know any better he’d say she was truly delighted by his implication.

“Now, John, have you been naughty?” She revels in the normality of the turn their conversation has taken. The playfulness brings her joy; she’d forgotten how immensely fun it was to mess with the man who’s embrace she was tightly wrapped in.

It only adds to her delight when John flashes her a sarcastic smile, before remembering what was happening and turning serious once more.

“George has a, um, a photo of me...standing above his hitman’s body and holding a gun,” he’s staring at the ground now, determined not to meet Alice’s enquiring gaze, “From what it sounded like on the phone, he’s shown Schenk. And in Schenk’s mind that places me as the top suspect for both his and Benny’s murders.” He awaits Alice’s reaction.

“John, look at me.”

He pulls his eyes up to meet hers, expecting to find them full of fire and anger, but after searching them sees only understanding and pity. Sometimes he forgets how much Alice has changed since he first met her at the station.

“I told you before...those people, the ones you mistakenly call ‘friends’, are nothing more than vampires. You,” she amends her misuse of pronouns, “we, need to leave before this escalates any further and you get blamed, once again might I add, for a crime that you did not commit.” She finishes, not with a look of satisfaction (which would have definitely appeared if they had had this same conversation three years prior), but with an encouraging smile that spreads across her entire face and lights up her features.

He wants to let her know that she’s right, something he would’ve been too proud to admit in the past, but he’s sensible enough to recognise that the most important thing is to get Alice to safety.

“We can talk about this later,” he promises, “but right now we need to focus on getting as far away from here as possible in a short space of time. Got any ideas?”

Ten minutes, one stolen car, and multiple stitches later, the two of them are back at Alice’s parents’ house, wounds tended to and all.

It’s nowhere near as bad as either of them had feared, and once it’s all dealt with they bask in the fleeting relief that washes over them both. It’s all too easy to disregard the events outside of the house and pretend they’re in a world of their own.

But soon reality kicks in, or at least it does for John.

Alice is awoken by a kiss on the top of her head, tickling her hair and stirring butterflies that do not exist in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes flutter open, and the fantasy is ruined by what she sees in front of her.

“Where are you going?” It comes out harsher than she meant it to, and she knows she could amend it, apologise even, but she decides it’s a fitting reaction to John nearly walking out of the front door, so ready to abandon her again.

“I..well,” he tries again, this time more sure of his answer, “I figured since you’re all patched up and ready to go you’d want me out of your hair,” he’s not doing a good job at disguising his uncertainty, so he gives it one more shot and encompasses Alice’s signature dash of humour, “You know, so that you can disappear again, fake your own death, I don’t know.”

Alice watches him, an identical pained expression on her face. There’s no use for her mask now, he’d only see right through it.

“What on earth makes you think that?” There’s genuine hurt in her eyes, and John isn’t sure what she wants him to say, so he says nothing.

“You and me, John, we’re in this together now, for better or for worse,” she huffs a laugh at her reference; maybe her pride isn’t gone after all, “We’re equals and opposites, the same but oh-so-very different. Yin and yang; Bonnie and Clyde; Bert and Ernie, remember?”

He does remember, couldn’t forget even if he tried. Part of him wishes they could be back in his old apartment, Alice pressed up against him, like a devil whispering in his ear, a devil with no concept of personal space. If he could go back, he’d accept her offer of travelling, her promises of adventure and mystery and seduction. But he can’t, and they aren’t in his old apartment, they’re in a house haunted by the murders that took place there. He wonders if this time he can make the right choice.

“I had an interesting conversation with Mark after you left. He helped me realise something, two things actually, if we’re being specific.”

“And what were they?”

She pauses, he supposes she’s preparing a response intended to pique his interest.

“The first was that he’s not quite as unobservant and incessantly boring as I initially believed him to be.” John just about succeeds in morphing his laugh into a cough, but Alice smiles nonetheless.

“The second...well the second is something I’ve had quite a bit of trouble accepting.”

The vulnerability solely reserved for him is once again present on her face, and John has to scold himself for the look of awe that has snuck onto his face.

“And what was that?”

She wastes no time in answering him.

“That I’m not a psychopath. That I’m not incapable of sentiment and empathy and all that nonsense.” She’s deflecting her emotional exposure and turning to humour again, despite knowing there’s no point.

Her confession causes John to suck in a breath. She won’t look at him now, and he knows it’s because she’s afraid, terrified even, of what she might find.

“Alice?”

She can’t bear to face him, to risk seeing what could only be amusement and taunting painted across his face.

“Yes?”

“He was right.”

It’s all she needs to hear. There’s no need for declarations and meaningful conversations because that’s not how they work. They both know that. Their relationship is built on trust and mutual understanding, not pointless three-word phrases.

John has long since moved away from the front door and is now positioned next to Alice on the sofa. She allows her head to rest on his shoulder and a content sigh rolls out of her mouth.

He looks down at her, at this woman that will forever remain a mystery to him, but who he discovers something new about every single day.

“So,” he wonders aloud, “what now?”

[blanketburritoofshame]

How to do the confrontation thing

I have to redirect my therapist on Thursday, and I’m a completely non confrontational being. Like, my mother in law’s boyfriend was extremely rude to me the other day, and I feel bad about telling her. 

I don’t know how to let my therapist know that I need to go in another direction without sounding like a bitch. 

So.

We’ve been working on self-agency and trying to start healthier habits. But he’s given me five different things I ‘should’ work on in the space of about two months-I can’t handle all that at once, no matter if he says there’s no pressure and even trying counts. I still feel a massive amount of guilt when I fail to complete my objective. 

To clarify: I have major depressive disorder, have had for over a decade, and almost everything is difficult for me. Left to my own devices, I will remain in bed 6 days of 7, only getting up to use the bathroom and maybe eat if someone doesn’t bring me food. 

I have problems with hygiene, with my weight, with social anxiety that borders on agoraphobia. Even the activities that I used to love have become a chore. My medications have never been enough to keep me from lapsing back into melancholia. Therefore, therapy.

And it’s not that I don’t think that setting goals and striving for them isn’t a good thing. I gave up soda completely (caffeine addict, hi) for about two weeks, but then went right back to it when things got difficult. And the thing is, I don’t...want to quit certain things? Like I drink one 12oz can of soda a day, sometimes two, sometimes none. And I LIKE the soda. Other things, like taking a walk outside every few days are pleasurable, but hard to commit to. I get tired and unmotivated easily, so it’s difficult to leave my comfy weighted blanket. 

Therapist is also kinda acting like my depression is ...curable? This is not something I prescribe to, not in chronic patients. Yes, I am ‘comfortable’ in my depression, but I’ve worked really hard to be. I used to hate myself for hating myself. I used to view my depression as some alien thing that I could be rid of, if only I could take the right combination of pills. Which leads to suicidal ideation, by the way. It took me most of my lifetime to come to terms with the fact that my illness was a part of me, and that I would have it for the rest of my life. I worked hard for that, and I don’t want to give it up. 

He also seems to be under the impression that I should not be on disability, nor have a home helper. Again, worked very hard-and continue to do so- fighting for the help I need. Yes, I come off as high-functioning. Another thing I worked very hard at for years, before I burnt out trying to be ‘normal’. Neurotypical is the word for it now a days. Would I prefer to be able to work, earn a decent (hahahahaha in this state of the world) living, be a credit to society? YES. Can I? No, not really. Not ever fully again. I BROKE. The yolk cracked around my neck, and shoved its splinters into my spine. I was in AGONY the day I finally couldn’t take anymore. I wanted to die, because I knew my world was never going to be easy, that I could never take the marked out path. All I wanted in that moment was for everything to just...stop. 

And I just don’t know how to disabuse him of these notions without coming off too harsh. A large part of me wants to send a text telling him I won’t be returning to therapy, and take the coward’s way out. It certainly would be simpler. The problem is, I like this guy. He’s generally good people, and has had some good insights. 

I guess, when it’s purely a matter of my own opinion, I can’t tell people they are wrong. Mostly because who am I to say, me being a worthless pile of a shit person, but also because I have nothing and no one to back me up. I fear any attempt at explaining will be met with...I dunno, being handled back into my lane? I know for a fact that he wouldn’t take kindly to me having my husband there for emotional support-he’s already declared that we’re codependent anyways (not that we’re not, to some extent, but not to the point I think it’s unhealthy). 

I just...I want it over. I want an out. I don’t want to have to be the one to do this, but I want the results from it. 

[aesthetic-duckling]

Mourning Songbirds

Kim Taheyung x oc / Jeon Jungkook x oc

Kim Taehyung has always been in love with his best friend, but he has never been able to tell her. Now Lim Leah is off to college in the city and distance won’t be the only hardship. She’s making new friends and a rival for Taehyung who goes by the name Jeon Jungkook.

Masterlist  Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five (WIP)

Leah spent her first week at university organizing her room at the dorm and creating a plan. Her plan would die when classes began, but she liked to pretend she knew what she was doing. She didn't have a lot, but due to her night owl tendencies, she had paid the extra to get a room to herself. Unless it was for food or to go to the bathroom - she still shared a communal bath with the girls on her floor - she didn't leave her room for the first few days. Looking for a part-time job also helped her procrastinate going out into a part of the city she was unfamiliar with. Leah met very few people in those days, but by Friday, she was going stir-crazy. Unlike many of the girls she saw, her skin already held a light tan to it and it drew more than a few eyes as she walked down the street. She ducked her head and turned into a nearby bookstore when it became too much. At least she might be able to get her textbooks before she rushed back to her room. Leah wasn't used to the attention and all of the times she'd gone out, she'd never been alone. The bookstore wasn't hard to navigate and she quickly found all of her books except that for music composition. Well, she found it, but she couldn't reach it and she didn't want to ask the elderly lady running the store to climb and retrieve it for her. With no other options, she turned to the only other customer in the store, his dark hair and eyes appearing black in the poor lighting. "Excuse me," she started, voice surprisingly steady despite the anxiety she felt. He jumped, more zoned out than she had initially believed. "Could you reach that music comp book for me?" His smile was pure, angelic. "Of course." He had to rise up onto his toes to reach, but he got it nonetheless. "Music major?" She nodded. "Thank you. Yeah, music production. Maybe dance. I haven't decided." "As a dance major, let me say it's difficult and intense. You have to really love more than just dancing because the history and everything is important too. I'd do a double major so you can always drop the one you don't like." "I'll keep that in mind." "You go to University of the Arts?" "Yeah?" "Me too. If you need a friend, ask around the dance department for Jimin and you'll find me." "Hey, Jimin," a man with grown-out teal hair called from the doorway. "Are you ready? Let's go." Jimin waved a hand at him. "Hopefully I'll see you around..." "Leah. Yeah, Hopefully." He took off and Leah paid for her books. She'd find him before too long she was sure.

------

Taehyung texted everyday, making Leah miss him far more than she thought she would. Classes still weren't for a couple of days and she was bored. She had decided not to walk the city alone which left her roaming campus aimlessly. She knew the route between her classes by heart and made progress on some of her songs, but she still needed something to do, someone else to talk to. Opening the door to the dance department, she hoped that Jimin hadn't been lying to her when he said that was where he could be found. The first students she asked were as knew as she was and didn't know him, but an older student passing by overheard and directed her to a practice classroom at the end of the second floor hall. "It's Hoseok's class, but Jimin is almost always there." The room wasn't hard to find and when Leah peeked through the window by the door, she found Jimin - hair freshly bleached blond - sitting among a small group of three others. His smile appeared when she walked in and he greeted her with a hug, reminding her of Taehyung. "Hey, Leah! I wasn't sure if you would actually come. I had hoped because you seemed cool, but you just never know." "I was going crazy in my room and I don't know anyone, so here I am." "You know me." "And Jimin knows everyone, so, by default, you do too. He's the biggest social butterfly," supplied one of his friends who Leah believed to be the man from the bookstore, his teal hair now dyed a mint green. "Let me introduce you," Jimin said, pulling her over to them. "You kinda-sorta know of Yoongi. He used to go here, but he dropped. If you take those dance classes, you will officially meet Hoseok as Mr. Jung, but he's the coolest teacher here so everyone just calls him Hoseok. Don't feel bad if Jungkook takes a bit to warm up to you. He barely talks to anyone until he's comfortable with them." "You're telling me you aren't sure if you're going to take dance classes or not?" Hoseok's look was that of fake offense. Leah shrugged, joining them on the floor. "Jimin made them sound hard." "Jiminie, don't scare away potential students." "I said you had to be committed. She's twisting my words." Jimin pouted, Jungkook and Yoongi snickered, and Hoseok outright bellowed. "He said that they were torture, you're the devil incarnate, and it's a punishment worse than going to Hell." "Leah, no please..." "I'll make them hell just for you, Jimin." They all laughed while he groaned. She sent Taehyung a quick text: I made friends. You'd like them. "Jungkook, you're majoring in dance, right? I'll have you in my classes?" "Partly, yeah. I'll have a double major, but I haven't officially declared them. I just haven't found which are the best for becoming an idol." He was confident until he looked to Leah, then he ducked his head and let dark brown hair fall over darker eyes. Yoongi nudged him. "If you want, I'll start taking you to a few of my show. I'll even pay your performance fee until you get the hang of it." "You perform," she asked. Yoongi nodded. "I started here to learn some tricks of the trade and dropped to become a freelancer. Most of my shows are in the Underground, but occasionally I do a few at my friend's cafe." "Do you sing or...?" Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook burst out laughing. "You only listen to Yoongi sing if you want your eardrums destroyed," Hoseok announced, receiving a shove from the man in question. "I'm a rapper and I write all of my own material. Sometimes Jimin dances up there with me, but he makes things sexual and it's weird." "I do not! He sometimes writes parts for me to sing too." "There are times where you don't wear a shirt while performing and that is weird." "To you. The people watching like it." "I'm going to stop letting you perform with me." "No," he cried, attaching himself to the other's arm." "What about you, Leah? What dream did you come here to fulfill?" Hoseok leaned back against the wall. Despite his carefree demeanor, he kept a distinctive line between being a friend and being a teacher. "Songwriter or producer. Something along those lines." "You sing?" Jimin asked, letting Yoongi pry him off. "God, no. I'll join Yoongi in the tone deaf department. I can only write songs." "How do you know your songs are any good?" All eyes turned to Jungkook, but before anyone could attack him for the seemingly rude question, he clarified. "I mean that there are a ton of people trying to do that same thing. What makes your songs better than theirs? What makes them different?" "I don't know that they're better, but they're different because no one else will write songs like mine with the exact background and meaning that I have given them. All I can do is work for it and hope it pays off." "And if it doesn't," Yoongi asked, leaning forward with interest. Leah shrugged. "Then I'll find something else to do here in the city or I'll move back to my dad's farm, I guess." "You would give up that easy?" Jimin moved to lay on his back, using Yoongi's knee as a pillow while the other man rolled his eyes at him. "I'll give it all I have, but if no one will sing what I write, there's nothing I can do. My friend Taehyung always used to help me work out the kinks because he could actually hold a tune." Hoseok began to gather paperwork Leah hadn't noticed he had. "Why aren't you here as a duo then?" "Taehyung doesn't want to be a singer. He likes the farm life. I don't think he's ever even been to the city." "That makes sense. I'd love to continue this conversation, but I unfortunately have a staff meeting to get to. Finalizing lesson plans and all that jazz, so I'm going to have to kick you out now," he announced and the group reluctantly got to their feet. Jimin looped his arm through Leah's. "We can go to the cafe and you can join us when you finish if you're up for it. Jin, Joonie, and Mina will probably love Leah." Yoongi put a hand on Jimin's shoulder. "Just shoot one of us a text to find out if we're still there if you decide to head over." Hoseok agreed and the four made their way out so he could lock up. Outside, Jimin turned to her. "You don't have to come with us if you don't want to. Inside I made it sound like you didn't have a choice. The cafe is just down the street from that bookstore." "I'll go. I just need to run back to my room and get my wallet." "Yeah, me too," Jungkook mumbled. "Okay, so Yoongi and I can go on ahead and you can meet us there? Or do you want us to wait? Jungkook, you know where it is, right?" He nodded. "We can meet you." "Great! We'll see you there." He dragged Yoongi off, already chattering away. Leah and Jungkook split up to go to their rooms, agreeing to meet back in the same spot.

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

My Eyes - Part 6

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,721

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On...

                                           2 YEARS LATER

Despite Fury’s threats, Bucky tried to find Y/N. He exhausted all of his resources. When he couldn’t sleep, which was far too often, he would try to find her. After the first few months, he even tried calling her family. But either Fury or Y/N had already thought of that and must’ve changed all their contact info.

The rest of the team was so heartbroken by Y/N abandoning them that they couldn’t find the energy to go looking for her. They didn’t think she wanted to see them anyway. If what she wanted was to disappear, they decided to let her.

Bucky obviously didn’t see it the same way. Months turned into a year and then the year turned into another year. Eventually, Bucky ran out of leads.

Without the objective of finding Y/N and without Steve, Bucky had never felt so lost. He handled it the only way he knew how: fighting. He took on every mission that was offered. Bucky volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, offering to go unaccompanied and lowering the risk of anyone else getting hurt. Everyone knew what he was doing.

After a year of it, Sam intervened. He’d seen just about everything when it came to how soldiers dealt with the loss of a loved one. After countless yelling matches, Sam finally convinced Bucky to see a therapist. Even with the impossible hole Steve left in Bucky’s life, Sam tried his hardest to fill it. The dangerous missions didn’t stop, but at least Bucky could talk about why he was doing it with a professional.

It was a hot summer night in upstate New York. The sound of grasshoppers and other lively critters used to be comforting. But now they gave Bucky another excuse for being restless. He decided to go for a run in the surrounding forest. He didn’t return until 20 miles later, at 3 o’clock in the morning.  

Bucky was surprised to find Natasha standing in the grassy opening outside the compound. She was wearing a cotton robe and had her infamous smirk on her lips. It was obvious she had been expecting him.

“You put a tracker on me, Romanoff?” Bucky huffed, still trying to catch his breath from sprinting the last couple of miles.

“Your habits are too predictable for me to ever need one.” She replied.

Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt, just baggy shorts and running shoes.  An iPod was strapped to his bicep. It used to be Steve’s. Bucky suspected that Y/N had been the one to fill it with music since it was organized in playlists based of their genre and/or era. He’d grown pathetically attached to it.

“Did you need something?” Bucky asked bluntly, not trying to be rude but knowing she didn’t just happen to be outside in the middle of the night.

“Fury left a little bit ago.” She said as if she hadn’t heard his question.

“That so?” Bucky hummed uninterested, putting his hands on his hips.

“This is the only area that doesn’t have audio surveillance and I can easily erase the video footage after.” Nat stated.

Bucky was now slightly more interested. “Romanoff, what the hell is going on? Are you planning on killing me and hiding the body?”

With that wicked side smirk, Nat stepped forward and held out a piece of paper to him.

Bucky took it without breaking her gaze. When he glanced down, there were coordinates written down in Natasha’s flawless handwriting.

“That’s where she is.” Nat clarified.

It took Bucky a couple seconds to put together what he was actually holding. And once he did, his eyes snapped up to Nat’s in utter disbelief.  “H-How…?”

“It’s been a process. I would’ve gotten it sooner, but Nick made one hell of a firewall for me to get through. It also changed its coding every month, so there were occasions when I wasn’t fast enough to break it in time. I kept having to start over.” She explained the process so modestly, like she hadn’t just hacked into a system that was more protected than The White House.

Bucky’s grip on the thin piece of paper turned vice-like. “Nat…I-I don’t understand…Why?”

The smirk on her lips finally disappeared. “Do you remember that 4th of July after you first moved here? We forced Steve to celebrate his birthday. But he would only agree if it was just the team, that way Y/N could be with him.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, but he nodded.

“It’s always the moment I go to when I try to think about when we were altogether and just being…happy.” Nat sighed as she got a dazed look. “Tony, of course, managed to get all of those ridiculous fireworks to be set off at midnight. We were all watching them. But I just happened to glance at you. And right when I did, you were looking at Y/N. She was in Steve’s arms, staring up at the sky. We all were. That’s how I almost missed it. I must be getting rusty, because it took me almost a year to catch you. I must admit, you were good at hiding it… because I never caught it ever again. Everything else made sense after that: why you never talked to her and how, when you did, you were so unfriendly.”

Bucky’s hands were clutched into fists. Then he looked at the ground in shame. “Do you-…Nat, do you think he knew?” He barely had the courage to ask.

“I don’t think so.” She assured him.

Then Nat was closing the distance between them. Her hand lightly cupped his cheek, bringing his head up. “I’m sorry you lost both of them. I didn’t know how else to help without upsetting you. This was all I could think of.” She gestured to his flesh fist that was protecting the piece of paper.

“Fury’s not going to be happy with you.” Bucky warned.

She shrugged. “Let me handle Fury.”

Bucky stared down at the numbers, memorizing them without realizing it.

“Hey…” Nat softly grabbed his attention. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. I just thought you should have it.”

Bucky had been so focused on looking for Y/N that he never thought about what he would do when he finally found her.

---

                                        ONE YEAR LATER

It took him another year just to have the courage to finally jump in a car and go.

The coordinates put Y/N’s location in the middle of Montana. She sure hadn’t messed around when it came to seclusion. It took Bucky over a day just to cross the state lines. He knew he could’ve borrowed a jet, no questions asked. But he needed the drive to calm his nerves and help him think of what he would actually say.

Bucky’s hands started shaking over the steering wheel when his mind drifted to Steve. Guilt seeped into the forefront of his mind when he remembered a conversation they’d once had.

Steve and Bucky had been flying a jet back from a mission that just needed the two of them. It was an easy in and out. But that didn’t stop the relief they both had as they took the journey back home.

Steve’s cellphone was ringing with constant text message alerts. They must finally have service and he was receiving all of them at once now.

Steve asked for Bucky to grab it for him since he was flying the jet.

“They’re all from Y/N.” Bucky informed him without looking at them. “And one’s from Sam telling you a spoiler from the Game of Thrones episode the other night.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve smiled at that. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Game of Thrones? You better not. I haven’t started the damn thing yet.” Bucky groaned.

“No…” Steve smiled, but there was a new seriousness in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I know you two still haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” Steve prefaced. “But I just need to ask you something man to man.”

Bucky swore he was sweating. Had Steve figured everything out? He sounded so pleasant. But of course Steve would still be pleasant, even after finding out his best friend was in love with his girl.

“If anything were to ever happen to me… Can you promise me you’ll look after Y/N?” Steve glanced over at Bucky, jaw clenched.

Bucky felt a wave of relief. “Steve, that’s never going to happen.”

But Steve was expecting this situation. “We didn’t think we’d both become super soldiers. Neither of us ever expected to live past the new millennium, Buck. We don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

Bucky knew he had a point.

“I just need some peace of mind that she won’t be alone. I shoved this life onto her and I know it’s not fair that I can’t always promise a forever… at least not really. Just make sure you look after her. I know I’m asking a lot Bu-”

“Of course I will, Steve. You never even had to ask.” Bucky cut him off.

“When she moves on…” Steve looked down at the thought. “Please make sure he’s a good guy. She deserves that, especially after dealing with me.”

Bucky reached over and gripped Steve’s soldier. “Steve, I promise. Nothing would ever happen to her.” And his words rang true.

But Bucky drove to Y/N fully knowing he had broken his promise to his best friend. The optimistic or self-indulgent part of his brain (he couldn’t figure out which) told him that it wasn’t his fault Fury hid Y/N so well. But the devil on his shoulder told him that he hadn’t tried hard enough.

---

Y/N jumped awake as her tablet started ringing an alarm on her nightstand. Her heart raced as she realized it was alerting her of an intruder. She lived in a small cottage on a huge piece of land. The dirt road had multiple warnings about trespassing and it could not have been clearer that whoever lived on the property would alert authorities… or just shoot them.

Of all the time she’d lived there, nobody had ever tripped Y/N’s sensors. She lived so removed from society that no one even accidentally ventured far enough into her property to get an alarm. It just added more anxiety to Y/N as she whipped the covers off her body.

Porthos jumped awake and as he heard her shuffling to the vault in her closet. He growled when he spotted her pulling the rifle out.

“Come on, boy.” Y/N commanded as she raced down the stairs.

She opened the front door and saw headlights moving through the trees. Whoever was in the car, they were driving with too much of a purpose. They knew she was here and they were looking for her. There was no way someone, who was just lost, would get this far.

Y/N put the rifle to her dominant eye and placed the butt of it against her shoulder. She tried to calm her breathing. Porthos growled at the car, ready to protect his master as soon as it was necessary.

Y/N cursed to herself when she realized that if the person got out of the car, they would have the advantage of their headlights blinding her.

The car stopped, making Y/N’s heart beat even faster.

The headlights were right in her face, almost obscuring her from seeing even a silhouette.

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Y/N called out. “Legally, I can shoot you right now…so I advise you get back in your car and head back to the main road.” Her gun was aimed. Perhaps not well, but it would definitely do damage.

Porthos let out some terrifying snarls to add to her threat.

“When the hell did you learn how to shoot a gun?” The intruder asked.

Porthos suddenly whined and the ridges on his back relaxed. He knew that voice. The dog sniffed the air and then bolted towards the person.

“No, Porthos!” Y/N yelled, but kept her gun to her eye. However just as she yelled her command, she caught a shimmer on the person’s left arm. Even at night, without so much as a streetlight, she could tell they had a metal arm.

“Bucky?” Y/N whispered. Her gun lowered a little bit.

He was crouched down to his knee now and petting Porthos, who was attacking his face with kisses. The car’s headlights must have been on a timer once the engine was off, because they finally dimmed.

Y/N blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness once again.

“Doll, can you please put the gun down? At least for Porthos’ sake?”

Y/N was in disbelief as she reluctantly lowered her rifle.

“What-What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Her voice was so disconcerted that it sent a wave of guilt to Bucky’s gut.

“Nat helped.” Bucky admitted sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Y/N gaze darkened.

Bucky was finally walking toward her now. She didn’t seem to like this at all and walked backwards toward the steps of the front porch. Her expression was anxious while still remaining disconcerted from his intrusion.  

Bucky misinterpreted it as fear. She was scared of him. He held up his hands in surrender, hoping it would ease the worry on her face.

Y/N was a few steps inside her house, the gun still hanging tightly at her side. “Bucky, please, just go.” She begged him. Her eyes held no welcome, somehow stopping him from entering the home. So his large frame stood right outside.

“Y/N,” His voice was so soft. “I just came to check on you.”

Her jaw clenched at that. “I don’t need to be checked on. I don’t want to be… that’s why I disappeared.” Her eyes darkened. “Thought everyone would have taken the hint.”

Bucky opened his mouth to defend himself.

“Mommy?” A tiny and tired voice said behind Y/N. Porthos ran around Bucky to get to the child and give him a greeting by licking his face. The boy was so small that he made the dog look like a giant wolf.

Y/N’s eyes shut in defeat for a moment. But then she quickly shoved the gun into Bucky’s grasp before the child could see. Bucky caught on and hid it against the wall on the outside of the house, away from the boy’s view.

Bucky looked beyond Y/N to see the little boy. His heart stopped when he saw a carbon copy of Steve Rogers. The child had the same sandy hair and baby blue eyes. Even the tired, yet inquisitive expression was Steve’s.

“Jimmy, you’re not supposed to be out of bed.” Y/N reprimanded, but her tone was still gentle.

The little boy ignored his mother’s scolding. “Who is that?”

Y/N lifted him up into her arms and angled her body so Bucky was no longer in his view. But he still tried to twist around in his mother’s hold to look. Y/N disappeared around the corner and up a flight of stairs.

Bucky was frozen in place, unable to move his body.

Y/N returned a few minutes later. He saw her hand tremble as it ran anxiously through her hair. She took in a deep breath, clearly going through too many feelings and contemplations in her head. Finally she eyed Bucky, who still stood outside the house.

“You can come in, Bucky.” She sighed.

He didn’t move. “Jimmy?” It was practically a whisper.

“It’s short for James.” She shrugged innocently.

“Yes, I know what it’s short for.” He responded softly. “Y/N…I thought-you said you were going to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know. You deserve an explanation, I know.” Y/N admitted. “Please, can you just come inside?”

This finally broke Bucky’s daze. He slowly stepped into the tiny house and closed the front door behind him.

“Fuck, I need a drink.” Y/N muttered to herself.

Next thing Bucky knew, the two of them were sitting at the dinner table with beers in both of their hands. Y/N’s eyes were distant as she mindlessly messed with the paper logo on the bottle. Bucky just watched her patiently, waiting for her to start talking when she was ready.

“I was going to do it.” She finally muttered. “I was at the appointment. They were about to do the procedure and I just panicked. I realized that he was the only thing I had left of Steve. I-I started crying. I completely freaked out the doctors as I sobbed that I couldn’t go through with it. And… that was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Bucky asked.

“My family knew.” Y/N defended, finally lifting her gaze up to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He corrected.

“Because I was mad at all of you, I was mad at your world. I thought if I bring a child into this life, I don’t want them to ever be a part of that.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound angry, but the words still hurt. “It was what that took Steve’s life.”

Bucky realized she was holding on by a thread. He felt even guiltier for his arrival. She tried to protect her and Steve’s child from danger and here Bucky came, bringing it right to her doorstep.  

“You named him James?” Bucky asked tenderly, trying to change the subject.

Y/N gave a shy smirk. “James Wilson Y/L/N.”

Bucky smiled at that. He knew Sam would probably try to hide the tears if he ever found out that Y/N named the boy after the two of them.

“I think it’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/N wasn’t present in the room anymore. A few tears slid down her cheek. But she quickly wiped them away and sniveled. “Sorry… I haven’t talked about it in so long. Seeing you just reminds me of him so much.”

Bucky suddenly felt like there was no good he was doing here. He disrupted the sanctuary Y/N had created for not only her son, but also herself. The longer he stayed, the worst he was going to make their lives.

Suddenly he stood up. It was so abrupt that it made Y/N jump slightly.

“You’re right.” Bucky admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He started walking toward the door.

Y/N rushed after him. “Bucky, wait!” He paused.

“The nearest motel is almost four hours away.” She warned him.

“It’s fine. I can sleep in my car.”

Y/N grabbed his shoulder. “It’s supposed to storm real bad. I’m not going to let you sleep in your car. You drove all the way here. God knows how long it took you. Buck��you can at least spend the night.”

Bucky read her expression for a moment. “I spent all this time trying to find you. But I never even considered the reasons for why you would want to hide in the first place.”

Y/N nodded. “I know you’re here because you feel you owe it to Steve.” It was the excuse she told herself that made her offer for him to stay. “Come on, you can sleep on the couch.” She added before he could say anything on the matter.

---

Y/N managed to sleep soundly. Maybe it was because she knew her and Jimmy were safe while Bucky was downstairs. But her sleep was interrupted when a crack of thunder practically shook the small house. Her eyes snapped open.

Jimmy would be sprinting into her room at any moment. He was terrified of thunderstorms, no matter how many times she assured him that they couldn’t hurt them. After the first fearsome thunder, he always came crawling into her bed like clockwork.

That’s why Y/N was confused when she hadn’t heard his little feet scurrying down the hallway to her bedroom. She must have fallen back asleep because the storm had been going on for some time now.

Y/N decided to go to Jimmy’s bedroom and check on him.

But his door was open and his bed was empty. Y/N would have panicked if she hadn’t heard voices from downstairs, in the kitchen.

She tiptoed down the steps, hoping to eavesdrop before they noticed her interruption.

“I used to be scared of thunderstorms…” Y/N heard Bucky say. In that moment, she realized she’d never seen him interact with a child.

“When you were a kid?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Yeah, but even as an grown-up.” Bucky admitted lightly. But Y/N caught the dark truth behind his words.

“Usually I go into mommy’s room. She pretends to be scared too. So I feel like l protect her.”

Y/N smirked at her son’s cleverness.

“So why’d you come down here?” Bucky asked curiously.

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to spy on you.” He whispered it, like it would be less of a confession that way.

“Well it’s probably good that we let your mom sleep. She’s had a rough day.”

Y/N’s amusement disappeared at that.

“Why?” Jimmy asked with the innocence of a child who didn’t know the troubles of adulthood yet.

Y/N took this as her cue to interrupt and save Bucky from answering the tough question. She turned the corner to find that the two of them were sitting at the kitchen counter with mugs of tea.

Her heart hurt at the sight. For a moment, she saw Steve and a glimpse of what a happy life would have been with the three of them together…like a family.

She smiled sadly and Bucky caught it.

“What did I say about talking to strangers, Jimmy?”

“But he’s sleeping on our couch!” Jimmy pointed out and then giggled.

Bucky gave her an apologetic look.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed after you finish your tea, trouble monster?” Y/N asked, coming up behind her son and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Jimmy just nodded, remembering the scariness of the storm as another flash of lightning hit. He chugged the rest of his tea.

“Go get comfy. I’ll be upstairs in a second.” Y/N stated.

Rain stopped the kitchen from being completely quiet as Bucky and her were left alone. Y/N leaned her forearms against the counter top, across from where he sat.

Y/N was the first to speak. “I’m sorry that he woke you up.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. He’s a sweet kid.” Bucky gave a small smile. “I can’t get over how much he looks like him.”

Y/N sighed. “If I didn’t give birth to him, I wouldn’t believe he was mine.”

“He’s got more of you than you think.” Bucky assured her.

She scoffed at that.

“He came down here to investigate me. When he saw that I was awake, he offered to make me tea… said it helped him when his mom made it for him during storms.” Bucky looked her hard in the eye. “It reminded me of you, not Steve.”

Y/N gave him a thankful look.

“I decided to take over the tea making when he was trying to climb on top of the counters to reach everything.” Bucky added with a chuckle.

A thunder crash of thunder boomed.

“Mommy!” Jimmy whined from upstairs.

Y/N stopped leaning on the counter. “That’s my cue.” She was at the edge of the kitchen when she turned around. “I’m glad you got to talk to him, Bucky.”

---

Bucky had miraculously passed out after his little tea adventure. He was shocked that the noises in the kitchen weren’t the ting that woke him. Instead it was the feeling that someone was watching him. He blinked his eyes open to see Jimmy staring at him, barely a foot away from his face.

“Mommy said to wake you up for breakfast. She said not to touch you because it might scare you.” Jimmy whispered.

Bucky chuckled at that. He slowly sat up and rubbed his face. Then he glanced over to Jimmy, who was watching him curiously.

“I like your outfit, kid.” Bucky smirked.

Jimmy was wearing a dinosaur t-shirt, a pink tutu, and yellow rain boots. He seemed very pleased by the compliment.

“Mommy’s making chocolate chip pancakes.” He stated excitedly. But it was like he was telling himself for the first time because he became thrilled and sprinted out of the living room, into the kitchen.

Bucky slowly sauntered in to find Jimmy dancing around the kitchen to the music that was softly playing.

“Morning.” He greeted through his rough voice.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “There’s a mug for you next to the coffee pot.”

“Can I help with anything?” He offered as he poured himself some.

But Y/N just shook her head.

Bucky sat at the table, taking in the home in the daylight. It was cozy and homey. But he didn’t expect anything else from Y/N.

Jimmy must have gotten tired of dancing, because he was now sitting across from Bucky. His blue eyes studied Bucky like he hadn’t met him last night.

“Are you my dad?” Jimmy asked out of nowhere.

Y/N was putting down a plate full of pancakes right when it happened.

Bucky watched as her entire body tensed.

“No, Jimmy.” She tried to it say casually.

Y/N gave Bucky a warning look, making sure he didn’t intervene.

“This is your Uncle Bucky.” Y/N added.

“Why is your arm metal?” Jimmy quickly moved onto another subject.

“Jimmy!” Y/N scolded. “That’s a very rude question to ask!” Bucky tried to give her a face that said it was all right. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Jimmy, suddenly looked very sad and disappointed in himself. He hadn’t realized it was rude until someone pointed it out. Now he felt bad. “I’m sorry for being rude.” He blubbered, eyes cast down.

“It’s okay, bud.” Bucky tried to reassure him. “I lost my arm in an accident awhile ago. This is just a prosthetic.”

“It’s really cool.” Jimmy commented honestly.

This made Bucky grin.

They ate breakfast with zero awkwardness. Jimmy kept telling story after story to his mom. Most of it was mindless and a lot of it didn’t make any sense. But Y/N paid close attention. Jimmy seemed to accept Bucky’s presence very easily, behaving how he usually did when it was just him and his mom.

After breakfast, Jimmy was playing in the living room without a care. Bucky offered to clean up since Y/N had made breakfast. He ignored her when she argued that she could do it herself.

“You haven’t told him anything about Steve?” Bucky asked as he washed the dishes and Y/N dried.

Her eyes turned down and she shook her head. “He understands that he doesn’t have a dad. He goes to friends’ houses for play dates and realizes that there’s another person there that he doesn’t have. But he doesn’t know anything about the Avengers or superheroes. We don’t have cable and he doesn’t go on the internet. He’s seen pictures and stuff at stores… but he just thinks they’re make believe.”

Bucky stopped washing dishes for a moment and gripped the edge of the sink. He looked over at her with a serious gape. “You can’t keep it a secret from him forever, Y/N. He deserves to know who his father is.”

“Not until he can keep it a secret.” Y/N defended. He gave her a disapproving look. “Bucky, if people found out Steve Rogers had a son… do you know how dangerous that would be?” She chucked the towel on the counter in frustration. “We couldn’t even bury him because of what he was! Steve kept me so hidden... Do you think he’d want to the world to know about his son?”

“Y/N, we’d never let anything happen to either of you. I’m going to keep you safe.” Bucky’s expression was so soft and affectionate. It surprised Y/N. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out.

“Mommy? There’s a red robot in the yard.” Jimmy called out.

They looked at him in confusion.

Then they both realized who it was and snapped back to each other’s gaze.

“Goddammit, Stark.”  Bucky almost growled.

Y/N hurried over to grab Jimmy.

“Y/N, stay in the house.” Bucky ordered before going out the front door.

---

Part 7

Please message, reblog, whatever. Because I need constant validation HAHAHA. 

[ultrapandachan]

Mute rant

so this is very long, very emotional, and because I can’t talk, i need to like cleanse my soul and I dont’ give a fuck who reads it. to clarify, I use the verb said a lot, I don’t mean literally, i either wrote it, signed it, or texted it. I haven’t spoken recently.

Background story time: I lost my temper and I screamed so loud and so suddenly that I ripped something in my throat. Ripped or stretched, I am waiting to see which. I have like a 3/10 mild pain all day, and 10/10 when I make ANY noise. So, I have refrained from speaking for the last 2.5 days, and only made noises on accident. It is helpful that I learned some ASL in the past when I was first diagnosed with menieres, but it turned out that I have a migraine condition, not menieres. That itself is it’s own rant. Anyways, because i was properly diagnosed, my husband and family stopped learning ASL (except my sister, who is learning it because she loves the Deaf culture, and has made friends in her town that are Deaf). So, I have mostly been writing and texting my family members to communicate, and I  have previously hurt my wrist, and all of this unnatural increase in writing/texting is flaring up that old injury. So I have been using MORE and more asl, because it hasn’t hurt me. I will sign and write, but I tried to show them, hey, this sign means ____ so i can cut down on writing. My mom, who is normally so lovely and wonderful, has been getting increasingly angry with me and got to the point that she will flick me off instead of repeating the sign. It’s kind.... of extremely shocking because it’s so unlike my mom (who lives with me, btw). I have become more and more depressed (mind you has literally been only 2.5 days.).

My neighbor is much faster on picking up ASL, but she doesn’t call it ASL, she calls it charades. However, after a while, she will refuse to try and will only look at my mom, and talk with her, and not really pay attention to me. I knew D/deaf people had this happen to them, but I had never seen it happen first hand, and let me tell you, it’s soul crushing. especially if you’re a really active, vocal person normally, and this neighbor is my age and my friend.

My sister confirmed my suspicion that this will probably take weeks, or even months, to heal. My husband wants me to go to a doctor to confirm that i don’t have an actual tear that needs repairing, but doesn’t believe me that this will take a LONG time to hear. That i’m overreacting. Why can’t i make a sound. My mom walks in and they start talking. My mom isn’t even facing me, so she can’t see me sign, she can’t see  me silently sob. My husband keeps talking too fast for me to keep up and communicate back. I did have a text to voice app up, but they wouldn’t stop talking so they could hear it. and I at one point said, crap i forgot what I was going to say, and my husband looked at me and said why did i share that. and I think that was the last straw for me. I started to ugly sob (while trying to stay silent, because of the pain) and i wrote, if you lost your ability to articulate what is wrong and communicate even on a basic level, and your family was unwilling to help, you’d be upset too. I forgot because you guys wouldn’t stop talking and you KNOW!!! i cannot hear and think at the same time. I have a sensory issue. I think seeing me break down finally made it clear how insensitive they were being.

BUT! I followed up with that writing and texting, and even typing on my computer to an extent, is starting to hurt my wrist, and I didn’t want to re-injure it, my husband told me to stop communicating. Wrap up my wrist and stop writing/texting/typing and I looked at him  like he had literally ripped my heart out. he smiled and was like, just make noises like the dogs. they tell us what they want. He said because he was training for work that he didn’t have the time or energy or brain power to learn asl.

And that made me do another big.. big ugly cry. I said, the dogs can bark, they can bite you, they can walk to you and to the door. THEY DO ALL OF THE WORK to communicate with you. I literally cannot make a noise without much pain. I have been doing ALL of the work to communicate with you and i’m asking you to treat me better than you treat our dogs because I am your wife. I know you were trying to be cute, but goddamn it, this is really upsetting me.

My mom disappeared sometime during all of this, because my other sister was calling (and called me). My husband picked up and said sorry (sister), she can’t speak, if you want to talk, please get on fb messenger. and then my husband said how sorry he was and that he was being really rude and insensitive. after that, he started to ask what my signs were, take them seriously, and even used them too. He promised me that he’d do better, that he didn’t realize it was this painful, and going to take this long, and that i was this upset and lonely.

Before this big conversation between my husband and i, my sister (the one who is learning ASL, and is QUITE GOOD) and I were texting. I was mostly ranting to her at this point, and she kept telling me ways to work around it. and almost all of them were ways to text or type. That’s how D/deaf people handle it, so that’s how i should. Soo many misunderstandings have happened over the last few days, because I cannot get abstract or complex sentences out, and they keep talking too fast for correction, that at one point i’m like, thank you for your advice, it doesn’t apply to the situation. I had already at this point kept trying to correct her that my problem was compounded by my wrist ALSO hurting. I did say that I feel I have learned a lot about accessibility, and that talking like this is helping me edit myself (because I feel i am too wordy) and I said multiple times that this was such a short amount of time and it’s been HARD not being about to communicate. I KNOW IT’S ONLY BEEN 2.5 days and it’s already taken my ok mood (i wouldn’t say great because I did obviously have an anger outburst) to a very depressed, isolated one. I couldn’t imagine how hard and frustrating this is to all of the countless deaf or mute people where there isn’t even sign languages taught. And how mainstream communication habits are very hard to break for most people (like talking while walking away)

I have tried to let misunderstandings go, as long as they’re minor, because i’m tired of spending soo much time just trying to articulate it better. it also made me realize that most of my friends/family have BAD written comprehension skills. without the addition of spoken language, they don’t get the full meaning. IT MAKES ME APPERICATE HOW ALL THE TIMES MY HUSBAND SAID DON’T TALK ABOUT IMPORTANT THINGS OVER TEXT because jesus, most people are... bad.. at comprehension. And these are intelligent, thoughtful, wonderful people. makes me think about all of those internet arguments, and how different they would be in person (totally aside from the amminitity) 

Over all, these few days have been extremely taxing, extremely emotional and very educational. I am NOT trying to say i undrestand the plights of anyone, because I really have only a EXTREMELY small grasp of understanding.

I have ibs, i have daily bloating and normally 5-7 times a day worth of diarrhea poop. some days, I only go 3 times, some times, more. Now that i’m on medicine, i go twice a day, and it’s normal. Still working on that bloating. My mom has chronic rapid diarrhea for 23 years. within 20 minutes of her eating, it is out of her body. it used to be worse, meaning the second she swallowed, it was on it way out literally. some days, she can go up to 2 hours. Thats it. With my IBS, i can understand SOME of it. My sisters, when they have a stomach bug, and they said oh mom i know what you go through now, i want to laugh in their goddamn faces. yes, you know the literal pain, the timing, but you don’t have 23 years of that eating away at you. That’s what I mean, I have had 2.5 days worth of this, and i’m heartbroken. and my mind cannot even fathom how frustrating it must be otherwise when people are unwilling to meet you half way.

BUT in the same breathe, i know Deaf, deaf and mute people who are amazing and don’t look at it as a disability, and I by no means am here to police them into thinking differently. but i’m sure they’ve had growing pains at least somewhere along the lines. your new normal becomes your normal, and you embrace it, and it can make you stronger, and empathetic. And honestly, that is what i’m trying to do. Please pray, chant, light a candle, whatever, but please know i am trying to become stronger and empathetic over this. and understanding. but i’m in pain right now, physical and emotionally. and i just needed to rant, i didn’t need advice. If you’re still reading, bless your face, and i hope you know how special it is that you read all of this. that i was heard, finally, in total.

I am used to taking my “new normal” and making it awesome. I have IBS,  I have a migraine condition, I have depression, anxiety, i have weight issues, and i’m still awesome. I know this will pass and I will learn from it.