#because im about to cry over some curry

[youraveragemushroom]

-

[red-sneakers]

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Bakugou Katsuki

Rating: G

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Eri, Bakugou Katsuki

Summary: Katsuki helps Izuku babysit an unruly Eri who has opinions about how Katsuki should treat the person he likes.

Genres: comfort, humor, romance

Word count: 1,020

For @gil-shalossssss as a thank you for the adorable fan art of my fanfic, Go Get Your Man, Young Bakugou!

Check out their cute art here!

_______

Usually, babysitting Eri was a piece of cake. She was such a good kid. In some ways, she reminded Izuku of his younger self: always on his best behavior for fear of being a burden. In his heart of hearts, Izuku was glad Eri’d been acting up today, because it probably meant she was getting more comfortable with him. That said, he was exhausted.

“No, you’re saying it wrong!” Eri stomped a socked foot on the carpet of the common room for the 100th time that evening.

Izuku sighed from under a mountain of pillows, making sure his irritation wasn’t loud enough for the little girl to hear. “What do you want me to say, Eri?”

“It’s not fun if you’re not scared!” 

Izuku buried his face in a cushion. He’d never been a very good actor. When he was a kid, it was different, because the make believe games felt real, especially the ones he played with Kacchan. Right now, however, he was having trouble “getting into character.” It’d been a long day.

“Come oooon!” Eri whined.

Izuku drew a bolstering breath. “Save me, Healing Hero: Uni!” He cringed at his own voice. Eri was right; he didn’t sound scared at all. “My legs are stuck under this pillow.” Izuku realized his mistake too late. “I-I-I mean rubble! Under this rubble!”

“Noooo!!” Eri’s yell flipped into a piercing whistle register.

“What’s with the damn racket, hah?!”

Izuku poked his head from the pillow pile at the sound of Kacchan’s voice. Despite the angry eyebrows and tense grip on his wooden spoon, Kacchan looked soft in his black pajama shirt and sweats, stirring a pot of what smelled like his signature spicy curry.

“He won’t . . . s-say it right . . .” Eri murmured, her face almost as red as her dress. She must’ve been embarrassed to be caught in a meltdown.

“Heh. That’s ‘cause Izuku can’t say anything right.” Kacchan grinned. Izuku’s face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. He opened his mouth to make a retort, but then Kacchan’s face melted into something softer. Awkward, even. “But he, uh . . . He always does his best. So give ‘im a break, eh?”

Eri’s lower lip quivered. Oh no, oh no, it was starting. Izuku’d known Eri for about a year, and he’d only seen her cry about four times. She held it in, because she didn’t want people to know they’d upset her. Izuku could tell. Eri only ever cried when she thought she’d hurt someone else. But she wasn’t to blame! Izuku should’ve been able to keep her happy. Why couldn’t he have just been a better ‘helpless civilian’?

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Izuku stumbled free of the pillow pile. “See? No tears!” He squatted in front of Eri and pointed to his own dry eyes. Somehow that only made more tears pool in Eri’s until they spilled over. “Oh, gosh, please don’t be sad, Eri! I’m not sad. Really! I’m just a little tired, that’s all! Three hours is kind of a long time to play hero, and—“

“Three hours?” Kacchan interrupted. “No wonder the kid’s pissy. She’s fucking hungry, idiot.”

A few minutes later, Izuku, Kacchan, and Eri sat around the circular kitchen table, each with a large, steaming bowl of Kacchan’s famous spicy curry (Izuku with an extra side of rice, because he was a ‘wimp’ according to Kacchan). 

Kacchan’d been right about Eri. She seemed much happier with a belly full of a delicious, home cooked meal. Izuku often forgot his own meals, but forgetting Eri’s dinner was basically a crime. He’d have to do better next time. Maybe he’d start getting healthy, pocket-sized snacks to keep in case Eri got hungry randomly during the day. The grocery store sold veggie snacks, but she’d need something with protein so—

“Quit muttering, nerd.”

“S-sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku stuffed his cheeks with rice to stifle any unconscious muttering.

“Why do you call Deku names?” Eri asked with curry stuffed in her own chipmunk cheeks. She could handle spice almost as well as Kacchan.                       

“‘Cause he’s a nerd.” Kacchan answered flippantly, adding even more hot sauce to his own bowl.

“But don’t you like him?”

Izuku inhaled a chilli flake and choked. 

Kacchan slapped him hard between the shoulder blades, and the flake dislodged. “Yeah, so?”

Izuku wheezed. Kacchan was admitting to liking him? Of course, he didn’t mean romantically. There was no way. But still, Izuku never thought he’d hear Kacchan admit to more than tolerating him.

“You’re ‘spose to call him something nice,” Eri insisted. Izuku held his napkin to his mouth, more to hide his flushed face than clean the sauce on his chin.

Kacchan leaned across the table, grinning like the cheshire cat. “Oh yeah? Wadda you suggest, Eri?” He addressed Eri, but he looked right at Izuku, and the hairs on the back of Izuku’s neck stood on end.

“Hmmm . . .” Eri scrunched up her face in serious thought, as if she’d just been given the task of choosing the number one hero’s official hero name. This was dangerous. Lately, Eri’d been getting more and more interested in the kind of stories where princes and princesses fall in love at the end. There was a non-zero chance she was about to suggest a super lovey-dovey nickname.

“It’s okay, Eri,” Izuku tried to redirect the conversation, “I really don’t mind when Kacchan calls me a—“

“I’ve got it!” Eri lit up. “Honey Bunny!”

Izuku froze. 

Kacchan’s shoulders quivered and he covered his mouth with a broad hand, presumably hiding his laughter.

Eri bounced in her seat, clearly proud of herself. “‘cause of the ears on his hero costume!”

Izuku was at a loss. Surely, Kacchan would shut down that nickname (err, pet name), and it’d probably hurt Eri’s feelings since she was so proud of it, but how could Izuku console her without admitting that Kacchan calling him a pet name would be a dream come true that could never in a million years actually—

“Alright.” Kacchan leaned back in his chair, smugly crossing his arms. “Honey Bunny it is.”

_______________

If anyone is inspired to continue the story, PLEASE DO! I’d love to read it. (Just please don’t useChatGPT.)

[inoxske]

Kirishima Eijirou vs. 1A Girls Insecurities

momo, in a tank top: *cooking some kind of dinner*

kirishima, staring at her arms, eyes wide, awestruck:

momo, confused, looks at her arms: *notices he's staring at her stretch marks* umm.... whats up, kiri?

kirishima: is there something on your arm?

momo, eyes wide: ..... oh. yeah, they're called stretch marks.

kirishima, eyes wide: ..... they're super pretty

momo, looking away: thank you

-kirishima leaves-

momo, takes a deep breath: im fine.

momo, staring to cry: this is fine.

jirou, running in: wow! hey, mo, whats wrong? why're you crying, are you hurt?

momo, smiling and wiping her tears: no no no... i just.... i feel really pretty right now

----------------------

ochaco, awkwardly sitting at a breakfast table in a summer dress: *self-conscious aura oooOooHH*

kirishima, walking in and seeing her, gasps: OCHACO!

ochaco: ‼️ YES?

kirishima, yelling, a huge smile on his face: IS THAT A NEW DRESS??

ochaco, turning beat red: Y- YEAH?

kirishima, running up to her: BROOOO!!! IT LOOKS SO GOOOOOOD, GIVE ME A TURN, SPIN, SPIN OOHHHHH LOOK AT THE FIT

ochaco: *FUCKIN BEAMS*

kirishima: AND THE WAY IT SHOWS YOUR MUSCLES OH MY FUCKIN LORD RACA, YOU LOOK INCREDIBLE!!!!

ochaco, posing like a model, smiling like crazy: THANK YOU EIJIIIII!!!!!!

-------------------

jirou, walking into the common room with masculine clothes and makeup: *nervous nervous nervous*

kirishima, eating an orange, talking to kami: bro i was talking to jirou yesterday, and they were telling me about- oh, hey bro! i like the outfit you look hansome as fuck! and they were-

jirou, eyes wide: did he just-

momo, eyes just as wide: i think he did

-----------------

tsu, at the mall with 1a, about to get a drink: *notices pretty worker*

kirishima, to tsu: you better ask her out before denki scares her away *walks away*

tsu: .....how did he know-

----------------- tw abt eating :/

mina, sitting on the couch looking sad: *on her phone*

kirishima, jumping over the back of the couch with a bowl of curry and rice: ASHIDO I MADE YOU CURRY TO CELEBRATE HOW HARD YOU WENT IN TRAINING TODAY

mina, cringing at the idea of eating: u- im not really-

kirishima, smiling still: you dont have to eat all of it. but remember

kirishima, no longer smiling: only racists skip meals, mina

she ate all of it lol

------------------ tw abt harassment 😐

class 1A out at the mall, again: *having fun noises*

some random douche: wooowww, arent you a pretty little thing

random girl, extremely uncomfortable: i guess....

douche: oh dont be modest! your stunning! we should go out sometime!

girl: im not interested

douche, looking upset: wha-

kirishima, walking towards them: hey Mio! I found the- oh! Who's this?

the girl, looking confused:

the douche looking even more confused: who the hell are you?

kirishima, looking at him like hes an idiot, jokingly: um, her wonderful perfect bestfriend who the hell else?

the douche: oh yeah, sure buddy, prove it

kirishima, glaring hard: excuse me?

the douche, looking at the girl: look, i can tell this guy doesnt know a goddamn thing about you, so why dont we go somewhere private, yeah? *he reaches for her*

kirishima, standing infront of her: as a matter of fact, i do know her, but i dont need to even tell you that because i dont owe you fucking shit, and neither does she. Shes obviously not fucking interested in your creepy ugly ass so spare yourself some dignity and turn around and walk out before the only way you can leave is on a fucking stretcher

the douche, frozen:

everyone in the store staring at them:

kirishima, loosing patience, glaring harder: you have five seconds.

the douche, looking embrassed: .....look-

kirishima: 5.

he runs.

kirishimas glare drops, along with his shoulders: WHEW! That was scary, are you okay? Did he touch you?

the girl, shaking her head: no, no, im okay thanks to you. i cant thank you enough he was so fucking scary, he followed me through like 3 stores.

kirishima, looking disgusted: im so sorry that happened, are you okay? i can stick around for a couple minutes if you're still shaken up

the girl: .....no- no im fine, who are you exactly? and how did you know my name?

kirishima, gaping: wait your names actually Mio??? No way??? Oh! Im kirishima eijirou. aka, red riot

all the class who just saw what went down: *heart eyes* he's a fucking angel

------------------

kirishima, sitting in the common room: *eats chip* you ever feel like youre manipulating everyone into liking you and your not actually a good person?

all the girls aggresively turning to look at him at the same time: excuse me?

[klixxy]

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

-

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ;      ;  -  ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

[hollyhomburg]

(warning: overly dramatic) part of me wants to write like- a fucking messy story. like messy as in the m/c is involved with all of the boys kind of messy. like- maybe she was jungkook’s childhood love who he lost touch with when he went to become an idol. and then one day she moves to seoul thinking he’s forgotten about her and thinks “better not bother him- he’s famous afterall” and ends up starting her own life without him thinking that their paths will never cross again. 

she hooks up with seokjin on accident one night without knowing who he is. it’s against his better judgement but he can’t help the fact that sometimes he gets riled up in the way that only a good fuck can settle. a few days afterwords she realizes who he was and decides against contacting him or answering his text messages. ( though she does respond when he writes “i guess you’ve figured out who i am- and in that case- i have to ask you to agree to this” and she’s not an asshole- so she signs the non-disclosure agreement which she sends back to him without comment). 

only a few days later she runs into jimin- or more correctly jimin runs into her getting harassed late at night by a few drunk men. he pretends to be her boyfriend. He’s wearing a mask and a bucket hat and glasses- and despite his height jimin is commanding enough to get them to back off. he ends up walking her home “how do i know you're not trying to walk me home so you can find out where i live?” 

“you’re new here right? dont you know how many cameras there are in seoul” 

“there aren't any cameras on my street” and so jimin sighs, pulls down his mask and turns to a billboard of his face (this one for vt cosmetics sitting outside a closed olive young). imitating his pose for a second before he can see understanding dawn on her face. “see? you really think im going to do something like that?” it’s not every day he lets himself be seen like this- but he has a feeling that for you it’s worth it. but it doesn't get near the reaction that he wanted. 

you curse low, crossing your arms over your chest.  “how the fuck is there another one” and though jimin responds with a ‘what?’ you dont answer. you keep walking, kicking a stone hard enough to hit the billboard. and jimin has to admit this is the first time he’s ever felt lacking in front of a woman. it’s electric and he can’t say he’s not drawn in. 

he walks you home- does not kiss the strange woman who he just met on the cheek even though you’re looking sleepy and soft and vulnerable. jimin is a gentleman. 

it’s not until weeks later that she actually does end up running into jungkook- and she’s shocked to find that their friendship and the pure chemistry they have is still there. they meet up for coffee after coffee and then- she meets the boys, and both seokjin and jimin just try to reign in their over imaginative hearts (and maybe their boners- maybe her and seokjin meet up in some forgotten corner of the company for a repeat meeting- during which seokjin confesses she’s the best fuck he’s ever had). 

everyone can feel the tension between you and jimin. and jimin is the first to confess that yeah- they did meet a few weeks back. and you both pretend you’re not blushing when hoseok teases “wahhhhh thats like a drama” jungkook stoic faced besides her. tugging on her earing and whining to leave. he wants her all to himself- not hat he’d ever admit that. and jungkook- jungkook wishes his heart didn't hurt the same way it had 10 years ago- wishes his schoolboy crush could have just stayed that. 

what's worse- is that Taehyung and yoongi have taken an immediate romantic interest in her. kind of having more of an adversarial situation where they both keep trying to one up the other. Yoongi takes her out on a boat to watch the sunrise in the middle of the ocean, doesn't care about holding her hand in front of the others. yoongi is so sweet and kind; cooks her dinner when she shows up at his house crying for whatever reason (it was jungkook- it’s always jungkook) and when she’s done he kisses the curry he made off of her lips and hands her a water saying playfully. “if you dont drink enough water you’ll run out of tears.” 

“Are you planning to make me cry min yoongi?”

“Only out of happiness hopefully.” 

and taehyung takes her to an amusement park in the middle of the night, so that it’s just them and a few people who follow to run the rides for them. he lets her take cute couple photos and always offers up his oversized jackets for her when she gets cold after riding a wet ride. and maybe she catches him staring at her translucent dress. lets him pull her into a corner of the amusement park and fuck her where anyone could hear or see. “are you sure yoongi could fuck you this good? or seokjin for that matter? don’t think i havent noticed the way he looks at you.” 

and jungkook- jungkook can’t say anything- because he always puts the others first. and namjoon- oh namjoon and you have an incredibly intellectual relationship. Staying up after you’ve all drank yourselves nearly to sleep, jimin curling up on the carpeted floor near you saying “dont walk home alone- wake me before you go and I’ll walk you.” jimin is always saying things like that to you. and getting all protective whenever one of their backup dancers or any other man at the company shows interest in her. 

you and namjoon talk about everything that night- philosophy- love- life- it comes so easy for you to talk with him. and when that night he confesses that he’s never fallen asleep in someone's arms you pat your shoulder and let him lie near you on the wide couch. your hand smoothing up and down his back. and when you wake up in the morning before everyone elce you pretend he hadn’t migrated near you enough that his cheek was up against your chest- and he pretends he doesn't want to record your heart beat and put it into a song so that he can have it to lul him to sleep always. meet up once every few weeks to go on walks together because you both share a love for nature. trips to gardens and parks that feel more like dates than anything.  

and hobi- hobi sees it all happening and tries to stay out of it. rationalizes it that there has to be someone to stay impartial and professional. but you end up becoming friends against his better judgement. you do your work in his studio because you like how he’s always playing music even if he’s not working on one of his own songs, and even then you have headphone and jhope watches you sway and bob your head to whatever you’re listening too. very few people have a sense for beat like you both do- and though you can’t dance- he can see the potential in it. he offers to teach you and you agree and of course you end up fucking in the practice room because hoseok just needed to show her how to move her hips right. 

only- yoongi hears the noises from the studio and goes to investigate, and he’d love it if he wasn’t hurt but he is. So he ignores her for a little while- because he wants to move on- he’s tired of being hurt by her. and then when she confronts him- somehow everyones there and jungkook misspeaks- says some pretty terrible shit that he immediately regrets and when she runs out of course jimn follows her. “jimin just leave” 

“no- not until i know you’re safe” she sighs but then gets angrier when he grabs her hand. 

“no- don’t- don’t do that”

 “do what?”

 “hold my hand unless you have any desire to keep me- to actually love me- then you don’t get to hold my hand” and they walk- jimin grabs her hand and she just sighs- so tired of being pulled 7 different directions. thinks jimin is just interested in sleeping with her- but he’s not- he just wants to love her. 

things get even worse when she and yoongi makeup- decide to try and stay friends, and then jungkook confesses to her and turns the whole thing upside down and someone sees her and namjoon out walking, his arm around her shoulders and suddenly dating rumors are floating around everywhere. and fuck- they’re all fighting. jungkook grabbing her arm “she was my friend first” 

“yeah but i was the one who was romantically interested in her” 

“guess again” 

“that doesn't count seokjin hyung- you guys just slept together that's not love” and before any of them have a chance to settle it out she speaks above all of them (maybe picking up a glass and dropping it to get them all to pay attention to her. “maybe if you stoped and wondered what it was that i wanted you all wouldn’t be pricks right now” and then she just- walks out. dodges their calls- ignores every message. until namjoon turns up at her door and asks her to come see them. everyone nervous before jungkook swallows. looking at her with shining eyes, the face of her first love. “we’ve decided, if you’re okay with it, then we think we can share.” 

(PSA; this fic idea is not free to use!)

[hopeless-starry-kingdom]

Drivers License | Peter Parker

Summary: Peter broke your heart and now its time to let it out

Song: Drivers Licence by Olivia Rodrigo

“I want each of you to write a poem that has meaning to you. Make it heartfelt and make it good. At the end of the week you all will present them to the class.” The whole class groaned in annoyance at the thought of presenting. You dint say a word, though.

You sat quietly with your head in your hand and stared straight ahead. You tried not to look at him as the class session went on but you found it so hard and stared right at the back of his head. His brown curls were messy yet groomed, just like how he always wore his hair. And today you seen him wearing a science pun t-shirt and a jacket over it. His jeans were dark blue and his shoes were vans. You liked his outfit today.

The bell rang as your English teacher reminded everyone of the assignment. You walked out after him and when Ned called his name from the classroom behind your guys’, he turned his head. You both made eye contact and you could see him swallow harshly as he sent a timid smile to you. You didn't smile. You didn't wave. You held your head up high and walked straight past him.

As you began to put your change away in your wallet, you seen your brand new drivers license. You got it last week. You were so happy that you had passed the test and ran to your phone to call Peter because that was all he was talking about for months. But you stopped short as you opened his contact name and realized what he had done. He broke up with you. And It hurt.

“Stop staring at it. He’s an asshat. There’s no going back, you have to try and forget about him now.” You looked up and tried to blink back your tears as MJ held your arm.

“It just hurts still. A-and he's in two of my fucking classes, god MJ.” The curry haired girl sighed and nodded. She was never one to show affection but she could see you were hurting. She knew first hand how much you loved him and MJ swore Peter loved you just as much. MJ was usually never wrong and when she told you not to doubt Peter hanging with Gwen Stacy so much, she swore up and down Gwen was just using him for a good grade. She never actually thought Peter would leave you for her. Because MJ was usually never wrong.

It caught everyone by surprise. All your friends and family. It was all so sudden. The school caught wind of it the next day it seemed. The girls called Peter a jerk for not waiting to jump into a new relationship. The guys all patted Peter on the back and saying they didn't know he had it in him. It only made it worse. But now almost two weeks later and the breakup still wasn't easier.

“Is she with him?” You asked and you knew it wouldn't help your case but you just had to know.

“Y/N--”

“MJ, please.” You begged. You didn't want to turn and look for yourself, afraid that if anyone caught you, or worse he did, you’d be the laughing stalk of the school. MJ sighed and turned her body to see Peter and Gwen laughing with each other. Peter had his arm wrapped around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Ned looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, she is.” You sighed and bit back the tears as you looked down at your drivers license and remembered how he broke up with you.

“I can't do this anymore” You furrowed your brows and stood up from his bed to face him.

“What?” You whispered and you felt your throat clog up as tears blurred your vision. Everything was fine, you were rambling about the drivers test and how hard it might be for you. Everything was fine, or so you thought.

“Y/N, I just, Im not really... I don't know how to tell you this, I-”

“Peter just spit it out!” You threw your hands out.

“I like someone else.” He clenched his jaw and sighed as he ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry but you and I, I just don't feel that way anymore.” He finished in a whisper and the tears finally fell from your face. You didn't know what else to say in that moment. So you fled.

You then found out it was Gwen Stacy who he liked. The girl he said was just his lab partner, his study buddy. Just friends he said.

“C’mon, we have to get to class before we get detention.” You stared long and hard at your drivers license and had a thought. You quickly put it away and stood with your best friend.

“Right, next up. Y/N.” Everyone turned to you as you picked up the piece of paper with your poem on it. You were nervous to recite it since Peter was in the room. However you were also ready to let out how you felt since Peter was in the room.

You sighed shakily and looked up. You met eyes with Peter and felt your jaw clench.

I got my drivers license last week

Just like we always talked about

Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs 

Cryin’ cause you weren't around

Peter immediately tensed up as your words ran into him. He took a glance around and seen some of his classmates looking at him and whispering to their partner. Peter gulped as he focused on you again and nearly fell out of his seat at your words.

You're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt 

You said not to worry about her

Yeah, I drove through the suburbs

Cause how could I ever love someone else?

Your eyes began to blur as tears came forward and you tried to blink them back, you didn’t want the whole class and soon the whole school to know you cried for Peter Parker during a presentation.

And I know we weren't perfect but Ive never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that im gone

Guess you didn't mean what your wrote in that letter about me

Your words were harsh as you spit out each syllable and made direct eye contact with Peter, who wished he could shrink into the floor in this moment. Now everyone was looking at Peter with a disappointed look.

“Okay, well thank you for that Y/N. Everyone give a round of applause for Y/N.” There was scattered claps as you hastily wiped your cheeks.

You ran to your desk and grabbed your bag before leaving the classroom. Your teacher didn't say anything when you pushed the door opened and stormed into the hall, ready to go cry in the restroom or better yet, your car.

“Y/N!” You didn't turn around but was now forced to turn as he grabbed your hand and twisted you.

“What-What the hell was that? In front of everyone? Couldn't you-”

“How could you be so okay? Im hurting inside and you-your with Gwen Stacy!” You screeched as tears rolled down your cheeks. Peter cleared his throat and stepped back.

“MJ is tired of me telling her how much I miss you but she doesn't know you the way I do! I drive in the suburbs and picture that you're there with me.” You whimpered and Peter felt his heart break. He knew you were hurting but he never imagined you would be so torn like this.

“Y/N, please I never meant to hurt you like this. You have to believe me, I just-”

“I can't drive past placed we used to go because I still fucking love you! And I still hear your voice in the traffic, you are everywhere! Tell me you love me the way I love you! It’s okay that we aren't perfect because I've never felt like this, please Peter. You said forever.” You step up to him and he sighs before shaking his head,

“I-Im so sorry, Y/N..” A sob rips through your throat as you turn and walk away from the boy. You make it to your car and you begin to cry as you hit the steering wheel.

You know you shouldn't be where you were at. But you couldn't help yourself. You parked your car and stared up at Peter’s apartment. You turned down your music, only a bit as you rested your head on your window.

Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[chunhua-s]

Ushijima With A Jamaican S/O!

okay so the first time he heard you speaking patois his brain just.... shut down

what the fuck are you saying? it sounds like english but see because he can only listen to about three english sentences before his mind breaks, he loses track of what you say past the first sentence

it happens everytime a family member calls you — you just.... switch to talking patois, and your poor boyfriend is standing in the doorway of the living room while you’re walking around the kitchen and speaking in all these sounds that make absolutely zero sense to him

it makes it worse that you’re one of the faster talkers (even your family members and friends tell you to slow down because they literally cannot understand a word you’re saying) so whenever he hears you get really excited it just sounds like you’re speaking in cursive

you have these moments where you’ll speak to him, and then if you’re extremely frustrated or passionate with what you’re saying, you’ll just switch to patois without even realizing it. it’s only when you see steam coming out of his ears after you said “no but yuh nah understand weh mah seh to yuh” that you realize what you’re doing and laugh while hugging him in apology

he asks you to teach him 🥺

that’s how he learns that the word bomboclaat isn’t just some weird twitter term but instead a curse word

he starts off fairly well considering patois is kinda broken english, so he can pick up on small things without much help

he understands better than he speaks, but he tries to put in the effort because he’s so interested by it (and by you overall. he loves everything about you. he’ll literally be fine if you say anything to him in patois and he doesn’t even have to understand, he just wants to hear you talk)

he’ll have times when he’ll lie his head on your chest, takes your hand and places it on top of his hair so you can pat him gently, and asks you to talk (that’s a thing between you two actually! just lying on each other’s chests and listen to what they have to say)

he LOVES reggae ( he prefers it over dancehall tbh)

you put on a playlist once during one of your ‘spring cleanings’ (he doesn’t understand why you call it that when you’re doing it in october)

most of the songs are what you heard your uncle play in the yard when you were younger; welcome to jamrock, rocksteady, red red wine and a handful of others

his personal favourite is smile jamaica by chronixx 🥺 it makes him think of you and your pretty ass smile whenever he hears it

when you confess to him that you never really listened to reggae or dancehall much when you were growing up (aside from what you would hear in coaster busses and taxis) he holds your hand and tells you that you both can listen to them together

you love him so much you could cry

you did. you cried because how could one man be so pure and sweet and absolutely wonderful?

his least favourite food is calaloo :( he thinks it tastes too bitter even if he eats it with fried dumplings

he just... you saw the way his eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he continued eating it anyways

when you ask, he looks you dead in the eye and tells you “it’s bitter.”

he still ate it though because you made it

you promise your aunt and mother know how to make it better, but honestly you kinda ruined calaloo for him (he might eat it if you add saltfish though)

but if you give him stew fish and ocra? he eats all of it

i dunno he just seems like that kind of guy

he also loves jamaican curry! your family made it for him when he visited for the first time with white rice

speaking of your family, they love him. all of them were so nice to him when they first met. your uncles shook his hand with the biggest smiles and your aunts all gave him those big hugs with the lil motions where they rock side to side with the hug. each and every one of them welcomed him like they’d know him all his life. he told you later that he was really happy when they all welcomed him like that

your uncles and cousins call him “boss man” and “general.” listen when jamaicans give you a nickname it’s gonna stick. forget your real name, that designated nickname is all they’re gonna call you by.

so anytime you guys visit, he’s the first one they call to, “weh yah deal wid boss man?!” or they dap him up once they get comfortable enough with a “why pree”

the first time he heard them say it he turned to you for explanation, which you told him it’s basically like “how’s it going?”

so you and your family teach him to respond with “mi deh yah” which is like “i’m good.” the first time he says it he actually sounded pretty good! (due in part to hearing you repeat it to whoever you were on the phone with whenever you wanted to hang up.... y’all know what im talking about right? that “yeh man mi deh ere a gwan meds ennuh” when you wanna get off the phone

it was either that or “yuh good though?” those were basically his lil indicators to know when you’re done talking

your uncles tried to get him into playing dominos with them 💀 see i imagine him being absolutely confused the first couple of rounds until he finally catches on, and then he gets into it. you’re just watching him and all your aggressive uncles slam the dominos on the ludi board they use as a makeshift table.

when they offered him a cup of rum he politely declined, but he did get himself a lil bottle of dragon stout to hold on to

when you guys are leaving, he hits them with a “likkle more” (something else you guys taught him to say and you get so excited at how good he sounds!)

in summary, he loves your family and your family loves him 🥰 they always tell you to bring him whenever you plan to visit and when they call they ask about him before asking about you

he basically became their son. you? you’re the stepchild that they forget about whenever he’s around 💀

you’re not complaining, you’re happy they love him so much

and you love him too

this was an incredibly self indulgent hc post and I don’t even know if there are other jamaican hq stans up here but im posting it anyway because 😌 ushijima wakatoshi

[bonvoyagenoona]

okay so

1. love the constant ‘it’s my favorite!’ no matter the food. as long as his eomma makes it, it’s his fav 💔💔💔💔💔💔

2. HIS FAV FOOD IS ‘WHAT EOMMA MAKES’ 💔💔💔💔💔💔 HIS LIDDOL TONGUE 💔💔💔 AND MRS. KIM’S LOVING PRAISE AND FEEDBACK ABOUT THE COLORS 💔💔💔💔 HER “look at your funny tongue!” AND THEN HIM SHOWING IT 💔💔💔💔💔

3. “trying not to cry because it’s been ages since Medium Kid Namjoon and Big Kid Jin have included him in conversation.” OH NO 💔💔💔💔💔 as someone with older siblings i can relate 💔💔💔 i used to feel left out too whenever my older sister and brother talked amongst themselves about Big Kid Things and played shit that i was too young to participate 💔💔💔 i wonder if eventually Seokjin and Namjoon learned that their baby brother felt left out???? my heart breaks for baby Taehyung 💔💔💔 ITS OK BABY YOUR HYUNGS LOVE YOU I PROMISE THEY JUST GET TOO CAUGHT UP IN THEIR OWN BIG KID WORLD SOMETIMES 💔💔💔💔💔

4. “She pushes some of the dark green stuff aside, but keeps some of the light green stuff, and takes one of the yellow things and squeezes it over the meat before cutting the meat into the right shape and size.” this is…. wow. the dedication to her son that she knows EXACTLY what to do with the ‘unappetizing’ menu in front of him. how quick her mom brain is to work out what needs to be done with what’s on his plate to turn it into something that her son will eat. look at her. look at her quick her wrist is. oh god. what a Mother. i love love love her so much. i love her love for her sons. fuck im tearing up.

5. and look at Baby Taehyung smile looking at the very same dish he looked at with disdain mere minutes ago and happily eat it. AND calling it his favorite too. god. mrs. kim is a GODSEND of a mother.

6. OMGGGGGGGGG DO YOU THINK THAT DATE HES ON IS WITH HIS FUTURE WIFE????? IDK I MEAN LOOK AT HOW HE EASILY OPENS UP TO WHOVER HIS DATE IS???? maybe im reading too much into things

7. I MEAN, HIS SOFT SMILE???? HIS WARM GRIN???? lord he really DOES love his mom 💔💔💔💔💔💔

Pleeeeease! I was so hoping you'd love that one! He's really such a sweet boy --- they all are --- but yes, Taehyung is a classic baby of the family, and he wouldn't have it any other way! Nor would Mrs. Kim! She absolutely loves spoiling her kids, doing everything for them, and just knowing them so well. She has such an incredible bond with her family!

Ooooh, I don't know if that date is his future wife! (Just kidding, I do know, but I'm not going to just sit here and tell you 😂) But if she can whip up a curry as well as Mrs. Kim can, she certainly has a chance!

[ohcalmdown]

10/27/21, 23:48

In preparation for the email that I will send to her, I want to be clear with my intent.

I am attached to her and I still have hope. I just don’t want that attachment to turn into a trauma bond. This is what happened with K and I. We constantly traumatized one another in small ways and big. The love between us dissipated into something neither of us could recognize but felt stuck in. Because we had invested so much time together, we felt obligated to save it. Sunk cost fallacy.

I want her to know that I didn’t bring up breaking up because I wanted to hurt her. I brought it up because I felt so much pain underneath her frustration and that I felt like this is the only way that we could save ourselves from psychologically destroying one another. I want to let her know that I appreciate her showing up and being honest with me. It was brave of her to do so. I felt like we made a breakthrough on what I needed in order to listen because it helped me regulate my body. Presence. Proximity. Imperfect authenticity. This is intimacy to me. Because we had been having these conversations about our conflicts over text/phone/FaceTime, I couldn’t connect with her. Because I don’t feel connected, I can’t listen with compassion and we both feel stuck. I’ve asked her, “has there ever been a fight where I’ve made you feel so unsafe face to face?” she says no so i’m left to assume that she is avoiding intimacy.

We’ve never tried to resolve a fight by talking in person. But we have gotten into conversations where I became incredibly upset in the moment, and we got over it quickly because she let me come toward her. A most recent example was the time that I had picked up burritos for us after my 12 hour shift and headed to her place. We got high and was about to watch our Resort Show. She tells me to take out my contacts and I do it in the kitchen where she then gets up to talk to her roommate for a while. I notice my body get tense as fuck so I walk outside to smoke a cigarette. I come back in and try to pretend everything is okay then I think “fuck that” and paused the show and ask if we could talk. She apologized and explained her perspective then gave me a hug and that was fucking it. I said, “good job team!” And we high five one another and enjoy our night.

Another time that I felt really proud about handling was when I was upset about something she had said that dealt with my body while I was driving us back from Bend. I snap at her and I immediately notice how small she makes herself. I think “oh no, something is wrong and there’s nowhere she can go in the car.” I immediately pull over to a parking lot and she’s already on the verge of crying and I turn to her and tell her that I am sorry for snapping at her and that I’m not mad at her. I don’t want her to sit in her feelings when we are hours away from home. She shares a story of how her mother would yell at her in the car and I feel so hurt and mad that anyone would treat her like that.

There’s another time when she had come by my place after work and I made us Japanese curry after work. Smoked some weed on the patio and she was already tense. Agitated at every little thing like the chair, the way her hair is feeling on her head, the music coming from my speaker that is behind her. I forget that she can be overstimulated and I just learned what yelling meant to her. It’s the tone. Not volume. Anyways, so she starts being real grumpy and I’m trying not to take it personally but that was a moment that could have been easily a fight because I wanted us to have a nice night. I made us dinner and I’m tired. I offer her to take the night if she needs to. She says no. It would be the same at home. So she starts to lie down on the floor and listens to her music and starts to cry. I sit on my bed and my instinct is to run up to her and hold her but just because that’s what I would probably want… that’s not what she needs. I googled how to help your overstimulated partner. She immediately gets up and feels so much better and we get on with our night.

Maybe I need to remind her that she can trust me. As I’m listening to and reading resources on attachment styles, I’m understanding more and more. This is the work that I am doing not just for us but mainly for me because I want to understand why I keep finding myself in these patterns of polarization where one chases the other and vice versa. It’s tiring. And she’s right, it’s boring.

My intent is to remain broken up. I think we need a reset. It’s painful but I know it is what we need. We need to break the bone and reset it so that it can heal properly. We are the same people. Just different layers but we are the same at the core and it may explain why this relationship feels so familiar and different all the same. The difference is that she has met someone that is willing to do the work with her. I need to learn more about 1) understanding my ADHD symptoms intimately and how they affect her, 2) my attachment style and how it came to be, 3) my journey to reconnecting with my body after years and years of trauma.

I’ve read that continuing a relationship with two insecure attachment styles is difficult but not impossible. There needs to be work from both ends.

I’ve been feeling not chosen. I’ve been feeling like because I had shown up and the other Avery didn’t. Then you went with me by default. I’m gonna work on that but I wonder if she had any ideas that could help. Actually now that I think about it, it’s not. The thought is irrational. Of course, you choose the person that shows up.

What I need from her is time and I don’t know if I can even ask for it but I won’t know until I ask. I need time to figure things out. I’m not interested in dating other people but I would like to know how she would feel about us not being together and just communicate via email for the time being. Just sharing stuff whenever we can or feel the desire to. I’m not ready to see her either but she can still get her things.

I’m leaning towards sending her an email after she gets her things

[sn4pe]

Fluffy clingy!Sir Pentious x reader headcanons? he’s,,,babey

Skfjskfjsj you know Im a major slut for Sir Pent being baby

Gender Neutral uwu

He always wants ATTENTION

ATTENTION ON HIM AT ALL TIMES

ESPECIALLY FROM YOU

He will literally be so extra and use his evil supervillain voice indoors just so you’ll pay attention to him.

Like you’ll just be sitting on the couch in your living quarters and he’ll be announcing things to you and you’ll just be like *clap clap clap* fuck yeahhhh!! Amen!!!! You’re gonna be the best overlord ever babe!!!!

Once he’s fully content with that he’ll expect you to shower him with compliments

Which of COURSE you enjoy doing, because he tries to act all smug and then he just ends up getting flustered

“You’re so great, you’re amazing, you’re such a great boyfriend and I’m so proud of you, you’re gonna do great things and I can’t wait to watch you do them- you’re so handsome-“

“SKFJSKJFKSFBKSJDKS *SIR PENTIOUS NOISES*”

Tries to act like a dom, is a sub

Such a sub

He can’t help his subbiness

Not in a sexual way but like pffft he’s so sub

Speaking of sexual, he’s really self conscious of his,,,, snake anatomy down there

His tail? He’s proud of that! His snake coochie? Not so much

But you constantly tell him you love it

We love snake coochie!!!111

He likes to pretend that he’s not that big on cuddling but oh yeah

He’s at his weakest when he’s emotional or tired.

He’s just lost a battle? Time to curl up in your lap

Sleepy? Time to lay on you and wrap his entire lower body around your legs

Also, he sucks on the tip of his tail like a baby it’s really cute

Don’t call him cute though

Hes m a n l y

Sometimes if you’ve got him appeased enough he’ll suck on YOUR thumb

You’re the only one who’s allowed to wear his hat

His hat loves you btw, full of smiles whenever you approach it

The eggbois also love you and crowd around you whenever you get home- they always wanna be picked up like a bunch of kids

Pent really fucking loves curry

So much that you learned a ton of recipes for him

Cause you don’t trust him in the kitchen

Once he accidentally closed the oven on his entire lower body, and all you heard was a scream from the kitchen

Yeah, tending to those wounds wasn’t fun

To be honest, it’s only on rare occasions that he actually gives you obvious love back. By obvious I mean like, he doesn’t shower you with compliments or tells you that he appreciates you

But he scatters little rare compliments here and there, and only at certain times. You know they mean a lot.

He’s just kinda bad at voicing his feelings, his actions mean so much more

But you know it’s mutual. After all, he doesn’t abuse you like the eggbois and he doesn’t treat you any less than an equal

He’ll do anything to protect you tbh, if it came to it, he’d value your life over his

He’s saved your life a few times

He’s so clingy omg he’ll call you up on his little walkie talkie from the other room- cause you both of course have walkie talkies

He’ll try not to make it obvious that he just wants your company

“Hullo my dear- over”

“Hey Pent, whats up? Over”

“Come to the garage- over”

You’ll come in and he’ll be working on some big metal project, and you’ll just wrap your arms around his waist from behind and part his hair to kiss his neck. Cause you know that’s EXACTLY what he wants.

He’s not very big on starting things, like he won’t kiss you first. But you can always tell he wants to. You have to initiate everything

If he ever does intitiate anything first, big if, he’ll try to be really dom but he just fuckin subs out after a few seconds

You can read him like a book tbh

Anywho

Sometimes when he’s overwhelmed, especially after a failed battle, he pushes out the bed away from the wall, curls up in a big mess of snake coils between the wall and the bed, and just lays there unmoving for a bit, his entire upper body and head hidden under his lower body like a ball python

You and the eggbois have a planned protocol for this occasion, because it happens a lot (Pent’s kind of a failure lol don’t tell him that tho)

It goes Tea ➡️ Cuddles ➡️ Encouragement

After a good ten minutes of him being curled up alone, enough to have him calm down a bit, you’ll bring him some herbal tea and gently offer it to him before petting his hair and giving him a shit ton of encouragement, meanwhile the egg bois crowd around and also babble about how great he did and how he’ll get Cherri Bomb next time for good

There’s a lot of angry crying and venting

Though that usually does the trick and he’s back to being himself

Anyways

He loves kissing

A lot

I also Headcanon that he has a little snoot-

His snoot is cute and it squishes when you boop him

And so is his little tongue, especially when he runs it against your bottom lip

He’ll never admit it but he loves being taken care of

Just,,,, hold this snake man tight

Especially around the waist, he loves it when your hands are on his waist

Or on his hips

God he’s so thick

Why did Viv fucking make the snake so goddamn slim thICK

When he’s flustered he giggles a lot

Like if you pull him close to you by the waist he’ll giggle uncontrollably and say “oh my~“ or whatever Victorian people fucking say idfk

You constantly tease him about his snake lisp and that makes him a little angry, but it’s kinda funny when he gets angry about it cause the lisp gets worSE

“SSSSSSHUT THUP”

“Okay Sir Poridge”

“I-“

You always call him by the wrong name just to cheese him

Anywho

He may be smart but he’s a big dumb bitch

Bunch of big dumb bitches under the same roof

Two big dumb significant others, a hat with teeth, and some eggs. That sounds like a perfect little family

[nervouscoffeeheart]

Hey Everyone! Thanks for checking in!

Well, this is my very first post of A3! Act! Addict! Actors!.

I've made a fan fiction, tbh I had a dream like this... Literally, so today I'm gonna share it with you guys \(-ㅂ-)/ ♥ ♥ ♥

(Note: I used our cute, sweet and smart izumi's name. Please enjoy!)

----------

{A Day At Mankai}

On a certain day...

*Classical Music Coming out of Nowhere for beginning the story nicely*

Izumi: ah, finally done! Now I can go home!

Another Troupe Member A: thank you, miss Tachibana for your help today!

Izumi: It's okay! So, can I take these props?

Another troupe member A: Yes, of course!

Another troupe member B: oh, also would you like some fish?

Izumi: F-Fish?

Another troupe member B: yes, we've got a lot, would you like some please?

Izumi: Umm, well okay..?

Another troupe member A&B: Thank you! Bye~

*Izumi on her way to Mankai*

Izumi: hmm, *gasp* I should make some fish curry tonight! ..... Huh? What's that? Hmm a big clothe in front of our dorm? Hmmmm, I should ask boys about this.

*opening the door*

Izumi: Hey guys I'm ba-

Homare: STOP THAT CRAB!

izumi: What the-? WOAH!

Omi: DIRECTOR!, are you okay?!

Taichi: DIRECTOR!!! , IM SORRY IT'S ALL MY FAULT!

Izumi: Woah, Taichi! Please don't cry! And I'm okay! And WHAT'S GOING ON?!

Itaru: HOMARE, I'VE GOT A KNIFE!

Homare: EXCELLENT JOB ITARU! NOW LET ME PUSH THIS SOFA!

Izumi: WHAT?! But why?!

*Kids crying and screaming*

Izumi: WHAT?! Where does these Children came fr- wait, I guess they are Tsuzuru's siblings...?

Tsumugi: Director!, Duck!

Izumi: Uh, where is a du- WOAH!

*fake pistol flying towards izumi*

Azami: DIRECTOR!

Yuki: DIRECTOR!

*Izumi catches the 🔫 gun*

Azami: wow, nice catch

Izumi: WAIT! I got it!

Izumi: ALRIGHT NOW! WHO WANTS SOME LOLIPOPS?!

Children: WOW! LOLIPOPS!!!!

Izumi: HERE YOU GO!

Children: Yay!!!

Yuki: WHAT THE- TSUMUGI, AZAMI, DIDN'T WE TRIDE THIS EARLIER?!

Azami: DON'T! PLEASE YUKI! DON'T REMIND ME!

Tsumugi: Okay, Okay calm down now!

Yuki: Also why are you carrying LOLIPOPS in your bag?

Izumi: well... It's doesn't matter!

Izumi: What in the world happened here?!

Tsumugi: well, you see...

Yuki: umm...

Azami: sigh...

Homare: Ow! Aarrgh! Did you find that utterly disgust- Umm, I mean, that elegant and charming crab?

Itaru: No, not yet...

Izumi: Crab? *gasp* I've got an idea!

Homare & Itaru: ?

Izumi: where was that? YES! Finally!

*Izumi throwing small chicken pieces in lounge*

Everyone: Director, what are you doing?

*Crabs coming out to eat chicken pieces*

Itaru: WHAT?! WHAT THE WHAT?!

Homare: ....

Izumi: NOW CATCH THEM!

Homare: Y-Yes!

*homare placing that big bowl, which he was holding in his hands*

Homare & Itaru: WE DID IT!!! THANK YOU DIRECTOR!!!

Izumi: Yes, thank you, NOW! How?!

Omi, Taichi, Homare, Itaru: Ummm

Hisoka: ARE YOU SURE?!

Chikage: YES I AM!

Izumi: WOAH! WHO'S SHOUTING?!

Itaru: .... Wait! I guess it's Senpai!

Izumi: Chikage?! And?!, wait... I guess it was.... Hisoka!

Izumi: Guys, can you clean up the place?

Everyone: Yes Ma'am!

~~~~~~~~~

Kazunari: A-ah d-director-chan!

Banri: hey

Izumi: You two! Have you seen Chikage and Hisoka?!

Banri: ah, well I guess both are in storage room.

Izumi: Okay!, Thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chikage: That's the reason why I think YOU ARE A MARSHMELLOW!

Hisoka: Well, I'm proud to be!, unlike a CERTAIN SOMEONE WHO JUST PLACES PEPPER IN HIS MOUTH EVERY MOMENT!

Chikage: What the- Talk about yourself!

Misumi: Ow! Aww... please, little kitty! Don't hurt me!

Muku: *sniff* it's all my fault! Because, I'm a little boulder, which should have been kicked by someone in an instant, a boulder which just belongs to live in sew-

Chikage & Hisoka: It's not you're fault, Muku!

Hisoka: it's his fault!

Chikage: What?!

Izumi: I'M HERE!!!

*meow*

Misumi: Owie!

Izumi: what the-?

Chikage, Hisoka *pointing each other*: IT'S HIS FAULT!

Izumi: Okay! Now calm down! How are we gonn- wait.... *izumi taking out that fish from earlier*

Izumi: NOW, WHO WANT SOME FISH?!

*Meow Meow Meow!!!*

*cats coming towards izumi*

Izumi:Uhhh

Misumi: Director!, throw that fish over here!

*Izumi accidentally threw that fish at the window*

Meow!!!!!!

*all the cats are outside*

Izumi: Sigh.... Now, why were you two fighting?!

Chikage, Hisoka: Ummm....

Misumi, Muku: *Looking at each other*

Everyone: Well....

Masumi: NO!

Tasuku: calm down, Usi!

Izumi: Haha, Now what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End of part One~~~~~

Special Note:

Thank you for reading this until the end! I'm very happy that you enjoyed! (and sorry for my spelling of punctuation mistakes (｡-_-｡)(╥﹏╥) really)

Also, Part two is coming out soon! So please stay tuned!

(I'm very happy to share this story with everyone!)

Arigatō ♪＼(*＾▽＾*)／＼(*＾▽＾*)／

(ﾉ*>∀<)ﾉ♡

(Note: idk if you'll like this story, but if there's a mistake or error or maybe I wrote something that doesn't make any sense so... My Deepest Apologies...)

[purplesurveys]

1024

What would you say is your favorite food? Sushi. < Ahhh, this is a good one. My favorite is down to a tie: it’s either chicken curry or burgers.

What color eyes does the person you like / love have? Are they pretty? Dark brown. I’m not too sure what the second question is referring to but yeah, she and her eyes are both pretty.

What was the first television show you were obsessed with? Hi-5, omg. That show was my life in preschool and I always watched the 12 NN replay as soon as I got back home from school, back when I was still on a half-day sched. I was so hooked I remember having legit tantrums before starting Grade 1 because grade school meant full days in school and thus having to miss out on the show entirely.

Do you like Mexican food or any other foreign foods? For sure. All my favorites are Asian (Indian, Japanese, Indonesian, Chinese, etc.) but I also enjoy Italian, Mexican, Greek etc cuisines. I generally haven’t tried African cuisines but I really, really want to.

What color is the keyboard you are currently using? The keys are black with white lettering.

Do you own any of those ‘chunky’ and cute rings? Nope, not my style.

What are you planning on eating for dinner tonight if you haven’t already? I saw my dad cooking up something deep-fried; it was like his own version of katsu or something, or maybe it’s fish fillet? I’m not too sure what it is yet but I’m excited and will probably eat lots of it as I skipped all my meals and have only been running on coffee and vape all day - not good.

Do you own an iPod or MP3 player? If so, when did you get it? Technically I still do. Haven’t used it since high school. I got it when I was 10 back in ‘08; I was envious of the kids in school who had iPods, so I asked my dad to buy me one even though I wasn’t super into music at the time. Not the best kid in the world.

When was the last time someone took your picture? Last Saturday when my package came. Apparently online deliveries now require your photo to be taken upon receiving your package and I think it’s for the seller to keep track of their transactions. I’m not a big fan of the new procedure, but it’s whatevs.

Would you rather write a report or type it on a computer? Type. 

What color was the last jacket or hoodie you wore? Gray.

Do you receive more compliments or insults on a daily basis? Neither, really. I haven’t been talking to people a lot; and when I do it’s for work, where I receive neither compliments nor insults.

Who is the lead actress / actor from your absolute favorite movie? Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney, or Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.

Can you recite the alphabet backward? [continued from last night] Slowly, but I’m sure I can finish it.

Do you eat chili when you get a hotdog, or do you like it plain? We don’t do hotdogs with chili here. I generally don’t see chili much where I live and I wouldn’t call it a common dish.

Would you say it’s easy for people to make you smile or laugh? At first I thought it was, but I’m slowly realizing that it isn’t.

What would you say is your favorite cereal, if you even like it? Cookie Crisp is the only one I like. I don’t have cereal often.

When was the last time you went on vacation? Where was it? It was a quick weekend getaway to Tagaytay and then Cavite, if it counts.

How many states have you been to in your lifetime? Zero.

Do you and your friends normally say you love one another? Yep, especially with Andi and Angela.

Have you ever been an outcast at your school or anywhere else? I was definitely one in early grade school, and again in Grade 6 when both my closest friends migrated in a span of six months, and I spent nearly all my lunch periods alone. Looking back on it, I’m really glad I powered through and made it here because I truly wasn’t happy at the time.

Do you own any dresses? If so, what colors are they? I have lots of sundresses and little black dresses because I was into those for a very long time at one point. Some of them are black, obviously, but I also have dresses in blue, maroon, and olive.

Would you say you drink more pop / soda than you should? I never drink soda as I’ve always felt like I spend more time complaining about how drinking it feels like burning my tongue and throat than actually enjoying it.

Would you rather have orange juice or milk with your breakfast? Water.

How many different colors has your bedroom been painted? Just one. The walls have been white ever since we moved here 12 years ago.

Do you cuss? If so, do you ever cuss in front of your parents? I’ll slip in front of them sometimes but I never get in trouble for it anymore.

Would you ever tell your mom about the things you’ve done sexually? Our humor together can be raunchy sometimes but I don’t think I’d ever do this. I dunno if she wants to hear I’ve had sex with a girl either.

Is there anyone out there who can make you cry very easily? Yes.

What was the worst news you’ve heard this entire week? *In the last week, hearing about the typhoon’s effects in other cities didn’t feel good. This entire country is literally only getting by with donations from the private sector because the government isn’t doing shit for cities and families who got severely affected by the typhoon; it’s almost depressing to hear and read about.

Have you ever been in a car wreck? I’ve been in minor car accidents but it would be too much to call any of them car wrecks. They had all just been tiny bumps or thuds.

Do you have your ears pierced? If not, what do you have pierced? Yes, my mom had my earlobes pierced when I was an infant. I don’t plan on getting any more new ones as I’m not really into piercings.

Has anyone ever told you that they think you have ADHD? Nope.

What is your biggest pet peeve? When people reach out first via text/IM then even if I get back to them in 5–10 seconds, it takes them a long time to get back to me. It’s especially annoying if they classify it as urgent, I drop everything to reply quickly, then they end up disappearing. Like why?

Do a lot of people understand you completely? Who does exactly? No, I like keeping a wall up. 

Would you say you’re really good at cooking and baking things? Haha no. But it’s something I want to be skilled in, definitely. I’d love to be able to make the food I usually just thirst over on the internet. I’m taking baby steps, like figuring out how to make certain sandwiches, but I have a long way to go before I can consider myself any good.

How is the weather outside right this second? It’s been a little cloudy this morning but it might start to get fair seeing how I’m beginning to see the sky turn blue. I’m just hoping there won’t be too much sun, period.

Do you have a lot of trees around your house? What about buildings? No buildings as I live in a gated village. We have a number of trees around, but I wouldn’t call it ‘a lot.’

Would you say either one of your parents are 'pack-rats?’ No. I have that title, and I believe I inherited it from my great-grandmother who was a bit of a pack rat herself, as I’ve been told.

Have you ever disowned anyone in your family? For what reasons? Kinda. I don’t associate with one of my uncles because he has a terrible drinking issue that he never got to permanently fix. Whenever I see him at family gatherings he just smells like stale gin or whatever it is he drinks, and it just ruins the essence of family reunions for me. As recent as Christmas Day last year he drove drunk and crashed into a car with an entire family, but as always his ass got lucky because 1) no one in the family got hurt, and 2) said family let go of the lawsuit they were planning to file against him.

Have you ever seen That 70’s Show? Do you watch it regularly? I tried watching the first episode but genuinely could not find it entertaining for the life of me. Sorry, Mila :(

If you could choose, what decade would you rather live in? I never really think about revisiting decades - they’re already behind, so what’s the point? As bad as the 2020s have been looking, I’m okay with staying here.

How often would you say you get sick? Once a year at most.

Is there anyone out there who has hurt you so much, you wish they’d die? I used to wish they would die, but I don’t feel that way anymore.

Has anyone ever called you a socio-path before? I don’t think so.

When was the last time you watched a movie in theaters? December.

Have you ever moved to a completely different state before? We’ve moved to different regions before.

Do you mind it when surveys ask you really personal questions? No. Isn’t that part of the point of surveys?

When was the last time you told someone you love them? Thursday or Friday I think, when Andi said it to me first and I said it back. I wasn’t having a good day and they were just looking out.

Which one would you like more: kiss on cheek / kiss on neck? Depends on my mood. Right now a kiss on the cheek sounds nice.

Does it bother you when people steal your stuff on MySpace? This never happened to me because I had Myspace for such a short time and I never caught it at its peak. Also, how do people steal your stuff over there? That’s pretty intriguing lmao

Do you have freckles? Do you like / dislike them? I don’t have any.

Who would you say is the best actor / or actress in your opinion? My biased ass would rally for Kate Winslet all the way, but some other great ones for me are Toni Collette, Emma Stone, Jodie Foster, and Natalie Portman.

How many times have you been drunk in your life? Many.

What would you do if the last person you kissed said they hated you? Be confused and ask them to give me a few concrete reasons. I don’t think too highly of myself, but I know I’ve never done anything to make me deserving of hate, especially with regard to us.

Do you ever think you might be pregnant? No, it has never been a worry of mine.

When was the last time you acted really immature? The weekend.

Do you enjoy watching comedies or horror movies more? Horror. I never watch comedies and the only subtype of it that I watch is romcom.

As a child, did you ever have an imaginary friend? Yeah but it lasted all of five minutes until I got bored with the concept.

Does anyone call you baby? Who would that be? No.

Can you rely on one or more people to take up for you? I have no idea what take up means. If this also means ‘stand up for me,’ then yeah I can.

[iphoenixrising]

I was thinking about the Titans working with the Avengers Kon and Bart still a little ticked at how Tim was treated brag about how fast Tim bonded with the Avengers. How Tony is seconds away from adopting Tim. How Bucky and Tim have come so close that he is in agreement with Tony to kidnap their new son. How they had to drag Tim out of Tony's lab where he and Peter were playing with DUM-E. To add insult Cass shows up and says how happy Tim is. Dick & Jason are off to get their baby bird back.

Hi babe.

WELP. This is not exactly what you were thinking of, but dammit. Dammit. Angst, you know?

But I mean, I really do enjoy two things: Tony Stark taking Tim in the Tower so they can literally wreck ALL the things; also, the Bats realizing the absolute fuckery of how Tim pretty much got booted out of the role as Robin, then running elbows over assholes trying to get him back and make up for it.

So, I kind of thought it might start out like this maybe...

**

“How do we look, Tin Man?”

“We look fantastic as always, Klondike. Sexy is our aesthetic. See anything from your perch?”

“You know what I’m looking at, Tones.” The Winter Soldier only partly means the view in Gotham.

And yes, Iron Man already has JARVIS focused on the two vigilantes walking around their Robin’s penthouse apartment. He knew letting Tim come back to Gotham was a bad idea, but dammit Steve had been adamant, saying they shouldn’t try to sway the kid.

“He needs to make his own decisions, Tony. We want him to come back because he wants to, not because we’re pressuring him, right?”

Tony and Buck had immediately called bullshit, but couldn’t argue when Tim himself, old backpack and worn hoodie, no mask over his eyes or utility belt around his hips, just a 19 year old kid that looked so much younger, so timid, so broken without his alter ego.

“It’s time for me to go back,” he’d said quietly to the gathered Avengers, a whole different kid without the mask. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

His eyes are violet-blue and soft when he looks around at them, seemingly satisfied he’d single-handedly brought the team back together after the shit show that was Civil War. He can leave now since the mission he’d set out to do is accomplished, and is apparent since they’re all gathered in New York City once again, leaving the Compound for the new incarnation of SHIELD with Fury at the helm, pretty much infiltrating the Tower to start the road back to becoming the family they used to be.

(And God is it crazy, fighting and living together with the insanity that is their lives.)

It started with a broken metal arm, alien invasions, and a plate of superior nachos.

It ended up with the team saving each other’s asses, coming to an understanding, fighting it out, then crying it out.

It ended with Wanda sobbing in Tony’s chest while his arms around her are almost as tight as Peitro’s once were, with Steve red-eyed on Tony’s other side, whispering in his hair how never again – together means together, with Bucky’s forehead against the back of his neck and tears streaming down his face, with Bruce and Nat holding hands while their legs tangled with Tony’s, Steve’s, and Vision’s, with Sam laughing at them all while he’s wiping his eyes, with the whole group literally jumping on Thor the minute he touches down with the new haircut and air of perpetual weariness, with them taking up a big table in their favorite 24-hour diner feeding each other and telling stories about what they’ve all been up to since that awful thing at the airport.  

Red Robin’s run with them started with fractured friendships and ends with them tripping all over each other during meals and movie nights. Bruce’s curry, Nat’s homemade dressing for the salad, Thor dipping in to snatch bites from everyone’s contribution. But this time around, it’s Sam and Wanda chopping vegetables while Bucky directs a sleepy Tony to a barstool close but out of the traffic, turning around to let the mechanic tie up his hair for him before he joins the cooking fiasco.

A week after they all move back in, he feels good leaving them with the rooms in the living quarters of Avengers Tower full of light and voices and warmth, just like it should have been. He’s giving himself a million vigilante points for this one – even if he’s going back out with no team and no safety net. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can’t stay forever anyway.

Besides, Kon and Bart have been trying to find him again, so it’s time to move on before they get too close. And really, he’s got no other excuses to stay. Bucky’s arm is maintained regularly, the broken team is working and the Accords (thankfully had been attacked on more than one side, thanks to big industries like WE and Queen, Inc. alongside Stark Industries) are modified to protect superheroes rather than stop them from doing what they do best.

All-in-all, he’d say the mission has been a success.

“Tim,” and the Captain moves away from Tony and Bucky’s side, one hand automatically out toward him, “you absolutely don’t have to go.”

“I appreciate the offer,” and he clears his suddenly tight throat, making sure the hood and too-long hair obscure his face. “But, it’s time.”

It only takes a glance back at the full team crowded around the communal floor television while the four player Mario Kart game stays on pause. The faces full of devastation make the message clear enough. With a decisive nod at the silent statement going through the team, Steve turns back to try arguing, the teenager is just–

–gone.

Tony, however, can’t shake the feeling of wrongness in the abrupt departure, and absolutely starts tracking the second he can pull away from the team to set-up protocols to trace the steps of their vigilante.

He listened to Steve’s half-hearted, “you know we can’t interfere with the Justice League, Tony. And Batman? Gotham is his territory. We go there, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be making it out if we even get past city limits.”

“Those guys might have the whole city wired with traps,” Natasha grudgingly admits. “Everyone knows the capes are unpredictable and terrifying. We should at least go through proper channels to get permission. Even if he’s still–”

“Oracle has nothing on me,” Tony’s eyes are all for the blipping red dot on his floating holo-screen.

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance behind Tony’s back, eyes meeting with a silent message. Bucky smirks and slides the muzzle up his face. Steve briskly turns on a heel and leaves the workshop with a plan already forming on how he’s going to run interference with the JLA so Tony and Bucky could sneak into Gotham without making a fuss.  

Bucky strides the opposite way, hand on Tony’s bicep, leaning in to talk low, “tell me ya got something more stealthy than red n’ gold, Doll. That or yer gonna play my Oracle, and get me in the kid’s penthouse from somewhere safe n’ sound.”

“Oh hell no. You’re not going anywhere without me. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, Buckeroo, and it’s going to get us an audience with our disappearing vigilante.”

Tony’s satisfied grin makes him look adorable enough that Bucky has to literally bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from kissing (their) the engineer until he begs.

(Not like this. Steve had to be there when they were finally ready to tell Tony how they felt about him. Soon, they’d agreed last night after finding the exhausted mechanic asleep on the kitchen table with a tablet clutched in his hand and could finally admit to themselves how much he made them want.)

“I’ll bite. What d’ya got?”

“Just a little something super waiting in the wings. JJ, fire up the Quinjet. We’ve got a Robin to visit.”

With the Winter Soldier watching the two vigilantes facing Tim through his scope, Tony stands on a closer rooftop with the very new, very nice stealth armor, recording the footage of Nightwing and the Red Hood. His blood heats when it looks like they’re yelling at Red Robin while the younger is obviously bandaging himself up after a bad run-in.

And they’re not even helping him for fuck’s sake.

“Wow, that’s cold,” Bucky says softly while the comm in their ears are giving them the whole conversation. Something about Tim taking on a guy named Bane by himself. Seems to Buck like the kid took the asshole down, so the ass-chewing the other vigilantes are handing him seems to be pretty fucking ungrateful.

“They don’t deserve him. We have more sciency things for him to do. Crime fighting is always fun, but why not build amazing shit in-between?”

“Aw, c’mon Tones. Gotta let ‘im outta the lab so’s we can spar. Kid’s always got tricks. Makes fer some fun.”

“I know that’s why you like him so much, Barnes.”

“What, like I ain’t seen you fightin’ outside the suit before?”

“I’m not teenage vigilante kind of street-smart. I will punch the hell out of you, make some nifty explosions, re-configure your systems...oh.”

“Finally gettin’ it are ya?” And he can’t help it when his tone drops a little, watching Nightwing’s arms flail. “S’why I like ‘im. Reminds me of you, Doll.”

“...you might actually make me blush, Soldier. How novel.”

“If it helps, Steve never believed ya were just a guy in a suit. Not from the moment he met ya.”

“Where the hell did that come from?”

“Like I ain’t hung out with ya the past few months? I know how ya think, Stark, and ya ain’t just the armor.”

“Sure, sure. In all actuality, I’m the most well-paid consultant that ever lived.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes flicker over where the Mark XXI is ducked in the shadows, jaw clenching because Tony’s odd self-deprecating tendencies bothers him just as much as it bothers Stevie. At some point, they’re going to address it with Tony, face-to-face. Not now, but that day is going to come, so help him.

In the meantime, Bucky tunes back in on the conversation happening inside, flips the safety on his rifle, and starts moving closer to Tony’s roof since they might not even need Plan B after all.

“What does that even mean, Timmy?”

“Calm it down, Big Wing. Pretender, look–”

“Do you see a fucking R on my chest, Hood?” And even from where he’s trucking over rooftops, Bucky can see the tension in Tim’s spine, the fast, angry movements as he tapes gauze pads to obviously fresh stitches. “I’m not ‘pretending’ fuck anymore. So how about you fuck off with that ‘Pretender’ shit.”

“...all right. That’s fair, so my bad. But lookit, B is all about ya coming ta the yearlies, you feel me?”

“What part of ‘it’s not my place’ isn’t clear here?”

The sigh from Nightwing is loud enough to hear it over the microphone Tony planted when they touched down.

“You have got to get over this thing,Tim. Dami’s been Robin for–”

“That’s what you think? That I’m fucking jealous, Dick?”

“He was a kid. He’s not still crying about the past–”

“Get. The Fuck. Out.”

The quiet calm of Tim’s tone is enough to make Bucky pause, and the sleek black Iron Man armor to step out of the shadows.

“I’m serious Tim! Listen–”

“I’m done. Done with you, done with the Bats, I’m fucking done. So do us both a favor and forget you were ever here.”

Nightwing flinches, his shoulders and back getting tight by the time Bucky is beside Iron Man, frowning behind the muzzle.

“I think we’ve heard about enough,” is distorted but still so Tony through the suit’s synthesizers. “Want a ride, Red Dawn? We can show up and be the likeable ones for once.”

“Really, Iron Man? I thought only Cap got special rides.”

“Well, I will always make an exception for my Bucky Bear, you know,” and he wiggles an arm, sighs a little as the Winter Soldier steps up against the suit, stepping up on to the rocket boots.

Having Bucky against him is something he can keep locked in the secret file in his brain he pulls up when he has bad days. Things like Steve hugging him, trips to the ball field, Bucky hanging out with him in the workshop while Steve drew or read or did paperwork on his tablet.

(Things he can never have. Sure, he can want, but he can’t let it get too real. Locking it away is safer for everyone.)

Knocking on the door of Tim’s balcony, shaking up the Bats, is really much more satisfying than Tony would have thought ten seconds ago.

He knows Tim is shocked, had probably been expected the big, bad Bat at his door rather than two Avengers waiting for entrance.

In his black and gold stealth armor, Tony waves metal fingers when the curtains pull back and Tim’s mouth drops open on the other side.

The door is wrenched open, and they can both hear, “we ain’t done here, Tim,” from inside, but Tim absolutely ignores it to stare wide-eyed at Iron Man and the Winter Soldier just, you know, hanging out on his balcony of all the fucking places.

“Tony. Bucky, what the hell–”

“Leave you alone for a few minutes, and you’re all kinds of hurt. Why am I not shocked? Winter Wonderland, are you shocked?” Tony gives no shits about interrupting this cute little family get-together and absolutely pushes his way in to Tim’s penthouse without a fuck to give.

As normal, Bucky is more of a doer than a talker when he’s in the mask, so Tony gets to watch him do that incredibly sexy murder strut right over the threshhold and grab a hold of Tim’s elbow. He snickers at the older vigilantes obviously gawking as the Winter Soldier pushes the third Robin down in a seat at his kitchen table right by the open first-aid kit.

“Zadnitsa,” the Winter soldier snarls in rebuke, already digging out more gauze pads.

“I missed you too, Frosty,” Tim shoots back, obliging the dangerous assassin by holding still while the gauze pads are taped down and more alcohol wipes are used to disinfect a serious slice on Tim’s shoulder blade.

Honestly, Tony has no idea how he even managed to stitch it himself, but the helmet swings over to the two surprised vigilantes.

“This sure as hell ain’t a good way to show it, y’know,” Bucky pulls the goggles off but leaves the mask, metal arm moving seamlessly while he gently pats the remaining slice with disinfectant.  

“Well, I didn’t expect you two to just drop in or anything. Or else, I might have a nice psycho for you to take down.”

“Well, shows you, don’t it?”

“I guess so. But I do have a bag full of plums in the fridge, so you’re in luck.”

“Hell yeah, Red.”

The faceplate of the helmet kicks up and Tony is grinning beneath it, “aww, plums for our favorite murder bot? What about coffee for your best engineer friend–”

Bucky pauses abruptly, and Tony sees the movement, a soft sigh of sound, but only just. The knife as long as his forearm is just suddenly out, metal hand on Tim’s good shoulder, holding him down, some automatic instinct to protect the kid makes Tony bite the inside of his cheek so he isn’t smiling.

The other vigilantes, however, are really intimidated in their own right since Red Hood has twin .45s in his gloved hands and Nightwing’s escrima sticks spark a few times for good measure.

“Tim, get up slowly and step back,” Nightwing’s voice is just this side of dangerous.

“We gotcha back, Tim, you feel me?” Hood’s thumbs flick the safety, a whole lot of not fuckin’ around happening right here.

“Do me a personal favor,” the unmasked vigilante deadpans, “and go fuck yourselves.” Tim wiggles out from under the hold on his shoulder and stands, gingerly puts a hand on Bucky’s brandishing the knife. He waits for those blue-gray eyes to slide over to him.

“C’mon, Bucky,” Tim tries to cajole softly, “these guys aren’t a threat. The knife is very nice. Is it new? You know I like to look at new weapons, but you can put it away. Promise.”

“Malyutka,” is a question more than a statement.

Tim huffs in annoyance because honestly, he’s not a kid.  (Welp, take into account, 100+ year old assassin, and maybe he can see the point.)

“My apartment, my rules, and if anyone, anyone,” he stresses, glaring at the two tense vigilantes, “gets blood on my floors or walls, then it’s fucking on. Everyone get that?”

“You’ll have to forgive us for being jumpy,” Nightwing deadpans, “we have a tendency to treat legendary assassins with immediate attention when one’s in our city, right Hood?”

The stiff angle of the guns doesn’t waver, nor does the helmet move. “Gotta say,” Hood’s voice is deep, even with the synths, “always thought this might go down different if our paths ever crossed again, Soldier.”

From behind the muzzle, Bucky’s teeth flash white, a terrifying smile, “last time my Handler wouldn’t let me kill you, Red Hood. Wanna to give it a go now that I don’t have one?”

“Sounds like a fucking party to me, sweetheart. Ya gimmie a time n’ I’ll bring the motherfuckin’ confetti.”

“Any. Fuckin’. Time–”

“As entertaining as this is,” Tony interjects, the soft haaa when the armor opens up to let him step out, “our host absolutely said no blood, right boys?”

Slowly, weapons lower, but the tension is high in the room, only broken when Bucky points a gloved finger back to the chair Tim was previously in.

(And during the time Tim had spent with the Avengers, none of them knew the Winter Soldier and Red Hood had met before. He’s going to want some details on that little scuffle.)

“Thank-you. I’m glad good manners are winning out over bullshit posturing,” and Tony pours on his media smile, giving Nightwing and the Red Hood something else to look at while Bucky gently finishes up with their vigilante. “Because really. We’re literally all on the same side here. We just happen to go through legal channels to beat the shit out of bad guys. Not as much fun, but you can’t beat the tax breaks.”

“Mmhm, I’m really hoping you aren’t in Gotham as Iron Man, Mr. Stark. You know there are rules about being in this city.”

And Tony would bet his entire fortune Nightwing has a listening device somewhere in that ridiculously tight suit for the Dark Knight to monitor what’s happening in Red Robin’s apartment right this moment.

(Especially the fact they know his civilian identity and are comfortable enough calling him by his real name. They probably aren’t going to be on any Justice League party invites for a while after this. He wonders how Steve is doing with Superman and Wonder Woman right about now.)

“I asked them to come,” Tim interjects, not bothering to glance at either vigilante, “they’re here to help me with a case. My lead is a dead-end, so we’re all going to be out of Gotham as soon as fucking possible. The Batman will have to deal with it.”

Tony hums, crosses his arms over his chest. He meets Bucky’s quick glance, quirks a grin since maybe they could convince him to come to New York instead. Or, if his Plan B is still waiting in the wings, they could do something altogether different.

(There’s a whole floor available in the Tower, and wouldn’t that be some incentive for Tim to get it together and land somewhere more permanent?)

“Tim…” and the wealth of warning there isn’t enough to earn Nightwing the youngest vigilante’s attention after the last gauze pad goes on.

But the youngest of the vigilantes stands from his chair, turns to give them the same fuck you and the zip line you rode in on attitude, “don’t fucking even with me, N.”

“You can’t come to the yearly gathering for one night, but you can pal around with the Avengers?”

And oh! Is that jealousy he hears? Tony has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking because wow, Nightwing does not sound very happy.

“It’s none of your fucking business–” and that tension is back in the square of Tim’s bare shoulders, the flex of his forearms.

Tony easily picks up his discarded nerd shirt, pointedly steps between him and the glowering vigilantes, shoves the shirt over the kid’s head and ignores his sputtering.

“I’m sure nothing that would interest you,” Tony makes a point to stay between the two groups, “I mean, you don’t work with Red Robin anymore, right? So he’s a free agent. Believe me, he’s been super helpful with us in New York, I don’t know if we'd all be in the same room without him.”

Tony is being absolutely innocent about it, letting Tim shove his arms in the right places while he grins at the obviously unhappy vigilantes over his shoulder.

The glare Tim levels at him would have probably withered anyone else. Good thing Tony has very, very little shame, and between him and Steve, the best troll in the Avengers award is still undecided. This might just put him over the top. He doesn’t need Bucky to remove his mask to know there’s a smirk underneath.

“I’m sorry, what now?” The whiteouts swing from Tim to Tony, “since when don’t we work together? We only have since you were twelve–”

“And we haven’t since your Robin kicked me the fuck out of my home. I’ve been out of the Cave, out of this city, and out of your life since then, so don’t come here with some attitude about it.” Tim’s eyes slide to the Red Hood. “You two coming here to ask me about the yearlies? Like I’ve been there for the last three? Like I haven’t come back unless someone called me in because, let’s face it, I’m just another body to fight the good fight, right? So this? Acting like I’m just going to forgive and forget? You can both absolutely go fuck yourselves.”

And some tiny part of Tony feels utterly proud in that moment, feels somewhat vindicated at how cold and calm Tim is, how he’s just laying it all out on the table, no bullshit, no contingencies, no taking the high road, no giving in, and it’s so much the Tim he knows, squaring his shoulders and facing both older vigilantes with anger so cold it burns.

“I–I mean, Tim–”

“There is literally nothing you could say right now that I’d want to hear, Nightwing. Nothing. All those years of fighting together, of being partners? I never would have guessed you’d be the one to stab me in the back, but I guarantee you won’t get another chance.”

But, the night gets that much better when Nightwing and the Red Hood gives them the death glare of doom before Tim pretty much kicks them out of his apartment.

Tony isn’t cheering out loud, but wow does he want to.

“Timmy,” Nightwing gives it one last, desperate try, turning at an impossible angle with one leg out the window to face the de-masked vigilante, tone low and serious.

“You’re a few years too late, Nightwing. Now get the fuck out.”

Tim had flicked his hand out behind him, a flat palm telling Tony and Bucky to stay back when he pretty much forced both vigilantes out of his apartment with a sneer of disdain and a promise to set his security protocols to shock the utter fuck out of them if they ever tried to come back to his last hold-over in Gotham. By the way the Red Hood stood shock still, and Nightwing’s frown deepened, they apparently believed him.

While Tim shuts the windows, locking them with finality, Bucky finally pulls off his muzzle and goggles, exchanges a worried glance with Tony when he realizes Tim’s hands are shaking.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Is soft but firm, is obvious Tim is trying to put himself back together.

“Well, as I said earlier–”

“Don’t bullshit me, Tony. There’s no case.”

With how empty and cold Tim sounds, how his hands are fisted at his sides, the tremble going through him, Tony pauses to take in the rest of the signs. He catches Bucky’s eyes and makes an executive decision.

Plan B it is.

“Okay, you’re right. No case. But, what I do have for you is more interesting and important than a case right now. Meaning, I still need your help with it.”

And when the kid finally turns to face him, face them, Tony can see the effects of dealing with Nightwing and the Red Hood in the clench of Tim’s jaw and the way he won’t really meet Tony’s eyes. A distraction is exactly what he needs, a reason to get the hell out of this city before he drowns in his own misery.

Instead, Tony turns his head toward a window, “all right, kid. Time to make your dramatic entrance!”

The super speed never gets old.

Not to mention the fact, Superboy is absolutely adorable when he’s just suddenly there, grabbing Tim around the waist and hugging him a little desperately.

“Oh my God, Kon?!”

Blue eyes blown wide, Tim’s eyes go from the meta-human wrapped around him to Tony’s soft smile to Bucky’s gentle smirk.

“Tim, Tim I can’t– I just! I...I missed you so much, Tim. We all missed you so much,” and Kon-El’s voice is barely a croak, heavy and thick with emotion, his face buried in the side of Tim’s throat, his back hunched over the smaller vigilante. “I needed to see you. Sorry about this, but...I’m not really.”

Like muscle memory, Tim’s brings a hand to the back of his best friend’s neck, making small circles against the tight tendons with his finger tips, still looking more shocked than pissed.

Tony is absolutely going to take it as a win.

**zadnitsa means ass or asshole kind of. Thanks Google Translate :D

[maxe-mini]

Pretty Blue Eyes

A/N- Hey there! So this is my first ever full written fanfic, atleast one I’m going to post on tumblr. I had a lot of fun writing this, in fact, I finished it in a d a y sjgjsdb so yeah. This is gonna be an OC x Bakugou oneshot(?) Im not sure if its a oneshot bc I might make a follow up in thhe future, it depends. Anywayyyy, yeah! If you want details on who my OC is, her name is Kano Amaya(Last name, first name). I’ve posted plenty of art I’ve made of her on this blog, which can be found on my pinned post, which also happens to have the link to her wiki on Amino. Give it a read if you’d like! Now onto the fanfic! :DD 

Taglist: @deephasoceanmagic​ @kuroshin15​

Warning: Lots of cursing(I mean it has Bakugou in it), small mentions of blood and nosebleeds, overworking, passing out 

A/N- dw this is actually just soft and ‘angry pomeranian is angry bc he has feelings lmaoooo’

This wasn’t the first time it’s happened, but that didn’t mean it pissed him off any less. For the sixth time these past few days, his eyes had managed to wander right back to her. Dark blue hair tied into two low pig tails that seemed to always flow through the air just the right way as she moved. Cold yet mystical blue eyes that he could constantly feel himself drowning in. Fair skin dusted with soft freckles that he craved to touch. F u c k. He was absolutely smitten by this girl and he did not like it one bit. Those goddamn pretty blue pupils suddenly met his, and he stared back-even that was a competition to him now-forcing a scowl on his face. The girl merely raised an eyebrow before returning back to quietly eating her food, the chatter around her seeming to be uninteresting.

Bakugou scoffed, finally returning his own crimson eyes to his curry, practically stabbing a piece of meat with his fork as if it had personally wronged him, earning a few concerned glances from his- he did NOT want to call them friends- classmates. Only the sound of utensils clattering with plates could be heard around their table, which surprisingly only served to piss off the ash-blonde haired boy even more. “What?” He spat out, looking up to see Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari staring at him, their eyes practically answering his question.

“You doing alright man? You seem… more angry than usual.” Kirishima was the first one to speak up, his small eyebrows furrowing up in worry. “Did Kano do something?” Sero followed. Turns out that was a big mistake. Just hearing her name sent a jolt of electricity through his spine, and for a second he thought Kaminari had a death wish.

Bakugou growled. “That’s none of your fucking business.” He didn’t shout, he didn’t scream, he didn’t even let a single small explosion go off on his palm like he usually did as a threat. The ash-blonde boy only returned to his food, and it seemed his words were enough to stop any more questions from his peers. Good. Atleast they knew what was good for them.

 It hadn’t always been like this.

Bakugou stared at the ground, the angriest, most frustrated frown anyone had ever seen on his face. His classmates stared at him in concern, knowing exactly why he was so full of rage, yet none of them knew how to help. He’s always been difficult to deal with. None of them wanted to risk trying to comfort him, knowing that would possibly make him even more upset.

He was silent, his hands shoved into his pockets and his posture slouched. He had failed the Provisional Licensing Exams, and he was feeling no less than pissed about it. He knew it was because of his ‘harsh language’  towards the victims- if you could even call them that, they were all actors after all. Just thinking about it made him grit his teeth in frustration.

Before he could mope around even more, a delicate, dainty hand suddenly wrapped around his arm and forced him away from his thoughts as they pulled him to the back of the bus. People were apparently still collecting their things and everyone had time to chat with each other before having to eventually get back to school- not that he himself was interested in doing that. His frown faded away to surprise before he noticed who it was. Kano. 

The scowl edged itself back onto Bakugou’s face as he stared at her, yet for some reason, he didn’t move. He let her bring himself here, and for some god forsaken reason, he wanted to hear what she had to say. 

Those blue eyes pierced through his soul, as if analyzing every bit and piece of who he was. It took a fair amount of his will power not to back away, only staring back, hoping his gaze was as intense as hers. 

“Bakugou.” Her voice was firm. It always was, whenever she talked, which was a rare occasion. The boy in question didn’t answer, only raising his eyebrow in response. 

“I know you’re upset about the Licensing Exam.” She continued, her expression unchanging, staring at him in stoic honesty, and he could not-for the life of him- pinpoint what she was feeling at the moment. 

“No shit. I don’t want your pity.” Bakugou spat back, his words laced with venom. If anything made him angry, it was pity from other people. He didn’t need anyone’s fucking help. He wasn’t weak. 

“I don’t pity you. In fact, I look up to you, and I whole heartedly believe that you will receive your Hero License after the training course with ease.” Kano wasn’t startled at all by his profanity. She only stared at him through those unreadable eyes which he always managed to get lost in. 

Bakugou’s own crimson eyes widened slightly in surprise. That wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t answer. He didn’t know HOW to answer. This was not something he expected from someone like her, especially when he considered her competition, along with Half and Half and Ponytail. 

“So stop moping around. You know you’re strong. You know you’ll be fine, so go kick some ass at that training course.” For the first time since he’d seen her in the entrance exam, she sweared. Not only that, the corners of her lips curled up into a soft, confident smile, her faintly freckled cheeks glowing an equally soft pink along with it. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her with any other expression except for the one she always wore, unchanging and unreadable. She had her hands to her hips and looked so uncharacteristically bold. 

Bakugou could only stare. He’s been doing that way too much now, but he had nothing to say. He didn’t expect ANY of this from Kano. The ash-blonde haired boy was thoroughly taken by surprise. 

'That smile looks nice on her.' 

The thought made him blink rapidly, startled by his own mind. What the fuck? What the fuck was he thinking about? 

After a few seconds of silence, possibly as Kano patiently waited for his response, he formulated a reply. 

“You’re goddamn right I will.” He grinned. The same confident grin that brought terror onto those who were up against him. 

Seeing him back to his normal state seemed to have made Kano much more glad, as her smile only widened. F u c k. That smile could kill people. Bakugou barely managed to hold back incoming heat that was threatening to expose itself on his face, and he hoped to god that the girl in question couldn’t hear his rapid heartbeat. 

Before any of the two could say something, a voice pulled both of them right out of their thoughts. “Hey, where’s Kano and Bakugou?” It was Shitty Hair. Of course it would be Shitty Hair. 

The ash-blonde haired boy walked away, not waiting for whatever Kano was going to say next, assuming she had any. The glimmer of wild confidence had intensified in his eyes, and he was feeling pumped up. He would never admit it, but what she said helped. 

The ride back home was a blur after that. Thoughts of the upcoming training course flashed through his mind, interrupted by a few images of Kano’s smile. It irritated him to the core.

Bakugou grimaced at the memory, knowing that that was the start of when he started thinking of Kano as more than just a rival, and let himself scream a battle cry as he released a massive explosion onto an equally massive boulder, resulting in it having a big gaping hole in the middle, the little bits and pieces of rubble all but strewn about behind it. 

The ash-blonde haired boy huffed. Class 1-A had been given time to train in Gym Gamma, and he’d been releasing all his frustrations on these rocks. It was working atleast, but now he was tired and his wrists has a dull ache in them. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been destroying these stones, but he assumed it must’ve been a little over an hour. A few of his classmates had already gone back to the dorms, presumably to rest. He scoffed at the thought. 

One of the students who hadn’t gone back though, was one of the sources of his frustrations. Kano was currently heaving up an ungodly amount of water, her expression visibly strained, yet it was still stoic. It reminded him of Half-and-Half in a way, but he shook away the thought before he angered himself even more.

He jumped off the concrete platforms to get himself a bottle of water, panting as he noticed he was a little out of breathe. His crimson eyes followed her dark blue figure as her wrists flicked the other way and the liquid which she was floating in the air instantly formed into large icicles. Bakugou’s vision narrowed. 'She’s gotten faster at doing that.' 

A part of him was threatened and annoyed at her rapid improvement, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride for his classmate. He shoved the thought away, continuing to watch her movements closely. Her back was to him, so he didn’t notice the blood that was flowing down her nose. 

Kano threw her torso forward, following her arms, causing the large icicles to pierce through the boulder infront of her, the force of her control and the amount of ice she had enough to absolutely decimate the huge rock. As soon as the icicles went through, they melted back into water, and the girl immediately put the liquid right back into its containers which were from god knows where- Bakugou assumed it had been provided to her earlier before they all started training. 

Suddenly, Kano’s knees buckled, and soon she was on the ground. The ash-blonde boy blinked in shock, not quite registering what had happened yet before his legs led him right to her. Her eyes were closed, and he saw the blood that was coming from her nose slowly pool down onto the concrete. Once again, for the first time, Bakugou saw her with different expression on her face. She was in pain. 

Before he could think about what he was doing, he wrapped his toned arms around her body, carrying her bridal style. She didn’t move or resist, and Bakugou concluded she had passed out. What the fuck happened? One moment she was destroying rocks left and right, her strength shining through even when she was just training, the next she was unconscious and experiencing a nosebleed? Did the dumbass overwork herself?

 Aizawa had been watching from a distance, his tired eyes twitching in irritation. He had heard about how Kano’s bad habit of overtaxing herself in her training, but he didn’t expect her to do it now, not in UA of all places. The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out an annoyed sigh, walking over to his students- he’d have to talk to her about this later- before he noticed the Bakugou had already gotten to her. Huh. That’s unusual. 

“Bakugou. Bring Kano to Recovery Girl. That’s enough for the day for all of you. It’s getting late.” He instructed, his hands in his pockets as he looked around at the few others who were still training. His voice was loud enough to hear for the ones nearby, and the ones from afar seemed to get the message as they saw their peers suddenly stop what they were doing. Good. They’d gotten better at listening. 

He expected his ill-tempered student to put up atleast a little bit of a fight. Tell him it wasn’t his responsibility if his dumbass classmate worked themselves past the point of consciousness, but he got none of that. Bakugou merely nodded- although the teacher caught that his mouth was stretched into a thin line and his eyebrows were formed into a near v-shape- and ran to the front door. 

Aizawa was a bit surprised, although he didn’t let it show on his face. It seemed this problem child had changed much more than he thought he had. 

Bakugou’s arms were stiff against Kano’s body, effortlessly carrying her to the infirmary, which was a good distance away. He should never have decided to carry her when he saw she passed out. If he hadn’t, Aizawa wouldn’t have told him to bring her to Recovery Girl.

He was thoroughly annoyed, his teeth grating against each other as he forced himself not to pop a few small explosions on his palms, not wanting to harm his classmate accidentally.

The ash-blonde boy wasn’t angry because he had to bring his classmate to the infirmary. No. He was angry because of the goddamn heat in his cheeks that just won’t go away. He was angry because of the annoying ass beating in his heart that was pumping at a rate that couldn’t be explained by adrenaline. It was far too fast for that. Bakugou bit back a growl caused by his own frustrations, afraid he’d wake up the girl that was unconscious in his arms. Turns out he didn’t have to do that.

“…Bakugou?” That wasn’t firm. This was, again, the first time he’s heard her voice sound so… vulnerable. The ash-blonde boy met his gaze with hers, and he saw that her eyes were cloudy. Unfocused.

“Yeah, it’s me. You passed out while you were training.” He wasn’t sure why he was answering. The words just left his mouth on their own.

“Mm.” She only hummed in response, nuzzling her face onto his chest. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly now. Bakugou felt his heart beating at higher speeds than he’d ever thought possible, and he was sure she’d definitely heard it by now. Yet, she didn’t say anything, and he presumed she must’ve passed out again.

After a few minutes more of running, they arrived at Recovery Girl’s. Bakugou let himself catch his breath before he opened the door with his knee, and he was met by the old nurse’s startled gaze.

“Oh dear. What happened?” Recovery Girl shuffled over to them, wordlessly gesturing towards a hospital bed for Bakugou to lay Kano on.

“She passed out while training. Aizawa told me to bring her here.” He watched as his school nurse got to work, checking her temperature and observing her complexion. Now that he could look at her properly, she was a lot paler. What the fuck had this dumbass doing?

A soft whimper pulled him away from his thoughts, and he watched as the girl in question slowly fluttered her eyes open, looking around in a haze. Her hand instantly went to her head, and she groaned in pain. A headache?

Recovery Girl looked worried, but only silently reached for a few pills and a glass of water. “Here, drink this. It should help with the headache for a while.” He was right.

Kano didn’t say anything more, only drinking her medicine. The pain in her expression dulled, and she looked a lot more relaxed. Bakugou wasn’t sure if it was that obvious, or if he’d been observing her long enough to notice these things. He hoped the latter was wrong. That would be extremely embarrassing, maybe even creepy, on his part.

A few beats of silence passed through the mostly empty infirmary, and was only interrupted by the soft tap of glass against wood as Kano set down her glass of water on the small table next to her bed.

“I’ll have you rest here for a while. I apologize for this, but I can’t trust you to go back to the dorms yet, not after what Aizawa told me.” Recovery Girl spoke first, her tone edging on strict. “What?” Her voice wasn’t firm again, and Bakugou felt his chest constrict at its softness. What was wrong with him?

“You’ve had multiple records of passing out from overworking from your previous schools. Kano, I know you want to be the best hero you can be, but this type of behaviour will not be tolerated in UA. You have to let yourself rest every once in a while. Everyone has their own limits, and you need to know yours.” The nurse scolded, which was met by visible surprise on the girl’s face, before she nodded slowly. “I understand.” Kano answered, her pitch soft, yet somehow strong. She was back.

“Good. Now rest, or do I have to tell Bakugou to hold you like earlier so you can do that?” Recovery Girl teased, her tone once again upbeat. Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly as he almost choked, shoving back down the heat that was threatening to expose itself on his cheeks. He did not miss the way Kano did the same, except she wasn’t as successful at hiding her blush, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

The nurse only chuckled before she went back to her desk, beginning to work on whatever documents were on there. “I’ll tell you when you can leave. You can go to sleep if you want.”

A few beats of silence, then their eyes met. The clarity finally returned back to Kano’s pretty blue pupils as she gazed at him, seeming to be searching for words to say. Bakugou silently stepped closer to the bed, waiting.

“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting you to be the one to bring me here, but it’s a welcome surprise nonetheless.” She finally said, and the ash-blonde boy was left to analyze what she meant by 'welcome surprise.’

“You better be grateful. Why’d your dumbass pass out anyway? You can’t be that weak.” Bakugou responded, and he internally winced at how harsh his words sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Thankfully she didn’t seem to mind, nodding solemnly in response. “It seems I went a bit overboard there again. Recovery Girl was right about me having records for constantly overworking. Sometimes I can’t help it.”

Bakugou grimaced. “Well, that’s stupid.” He didn’t miss Kano’s sigh before he continued. “You don’t even need to do that. You’re already strong regardless.” That caught her by surprise, her head turning to look at him so fast he was afraid her headache would come back. “What? Didn’t expect that either?”

Her eyes were wide. “No. I didn’t but-” That smile. That fucking smile again. “Thank you, again. I appreciate it.” Bakugou wasn’t sure if her cheeks were flushed because she was flustered, or if it just came with her smile. Either way, he liked it.

“You better.” The ash-blonde haired boy let his own soft smile form on his lips, and the two gazed at each other in comfortable silence.

Maybe he won’t be that angry about this after all. 

[dreamingsushi]

True Beauty - Episode 10

Hello to you all beautiful souls! Here it is, here I am, ready for a new recap while eating the Japanase curry I ever made. I’m pretty proud of myself. So without any further due, let’s just jump back in the story!

The first minutes are a replay of Daddy Im getting mad that someone’s trying to kiss his precious daughter. Jugyeong smashes him with a pan and they end up going back home together, while promising not telling Mom their secrets: that he mooched at Suho’s place and that she’s dating said Suho. Obviously, they get in trouble when they come back home, but since Dad is more trouble, Jugyeong’s fine. Then she calls Suho to apologize for her dad, but Suho actually liked having him around. I mean, papa Im is quite the good for nothing, but he’s a good housewife.

The next day, Jugyeong tries to tell Sujin that she’s dating Suho, but that girl. So mean. She knows what Jugyeong is about to say, so she’s telling her about how her dad hits her. And that she likes Suho. And insisting that she’s telling her because she’s her bestfriend. THAT NOT WHAT BFF DO. This is going to upset and bother me so much, I can feel it and I am extremely unhappy.

OKAY ONE GOOD THING. ONE GOOD THING. I was so afraid that they would make Jugyeong into a bad character, like using the fact that she’s nice to frame her, when I saw this preview of Suho saying that he and Jugyeong should break up, but that fortunately only in Jugyeong’s imagination as she’s thinking on how things will unravel between Sujin and her since she’s dating Suho. So that night, Jugyeong pretends to be unwell to skip the study group. Then, being worried that she’s sick, Suho brings her porridge and medicine at the comic book store. Jugyeong is so touched.

Sujin takes Jugyeong shopping for a gift for Suho. She tells her that she might confess at the same time. Jugyeong doesn’t really know what to say. Why can’t she be straightforward and claim her man? Like... a real friend would just step back. Or is it just me? Cause when I knew my friend liked the guy I had a crush on and seeing he liked her too, I rooted for them. She voiced her feelings first and the guy wasn’t interested in me. I really dislike Sujin at the moment and I really hate that they can manipulate me in making me dislike her.

At work, Jugyeong overworks herself, probably not to think about the situation. Seojun asks her if she fought with Suho and if she did they should break up. Jugyeong starts crying and poor Seojun feels bad. And here I was thinking he would give her some advice, but no. She was faking it all. Later at night, Seojun pretends he’s going to pick up Gowoon at her part-time to take the bus with Jugyeong. She tries to explain the situation without saying it’s about her. Seojun guesses everything and tells her that Suho isn’t the type of guy that would make her worry. When they’re about to part, they bump into Jugyeong’s mom and invites Seojun over for dumpling.

AWKWARD MOMENT COMING. Because they invited over Suho too. So dinner becomes a fight to see who Jugyeong’s mom is rooting for to marry her daughter. They make tons of dumplings. Sculpture dumpling. Juyeon is bothering Seojun because he thinks he’s dating Gowoon. Well it’s a complete mess. Suho ends up going to Jugyeong’s room and sees some old pictures of her. He grabs one to take with him and as Jugyeong is trying to take it back, they obviously had to fall on her bed. Right? And OF COURSE, dad had to see it.

Then Suho and Seojun get in a fight. And.. omg. Mom treats them as she treats her own child and make them cut each other’s toe nail saying they like each other. That’s a good one.

Seojun’s friend mistake the photoshoot pictures as couple pictures of Jugyeong and Seojun, so everyone thinks they’re dating at school. And now Sujin telling Jugyeong she should date Seojun. SHE’S SUCH A BAD FRIEND. And Su Ah just shipping both couples... ugh. Suho calls Jugyeong to the rooftop. He’s pretty mad. He doesn’t like that Jugyeong is friends with Suho and says that girls shouldn’t be friends with guys, because she doesn’t know of... well he almost told Jugyeong Seojun likes her. So she asks him about Sujin and he thinks it’s irrelevant. So she leaves.

THAT!!!! Please insert your favourite name calling. Sujin goes to Suho’s place, uninvited. When she clearly told Jugyeong they were planning to meet up. And when Jugyeong calls, she picks up Suho’s phone. That’s so bad. How can you call yourself a friend? Jugyeong obviously hangs up and Sujin gives her gift to Suho. And she tells him she was thinking of him lately. But he rejects her. Ugh. I don’t want to go on with misunderstandings. Why did they change a perfectly fine story to give us the same old soup that we always have? It’s so annoying.

Suho calls her back, but she has seen the picture Sujin took at his place and since he didn’t tell her about Sujin coming over, she hangs up. The next day at work she’s really out of it while working with Seojun again. Seojun tries to cheer her up, and succeeds right when Suho comes in, which makes Suho mad. LIKE WHY? WHY? This is so boring. So repetitive. Why??? It was going so well for this serie in the first half. Writers, you had one thing to do, just one thing!!! Seojun tells her to leave and go solve things with Suho. But they just fight without explaining anything to each other. This is getting old already TT

More trouble to come when Suho and Seojun realizes that a boyband is releasing Seyeon’s song, the one Suho composed with him. AND BIG SISTER DISCOVERED SOMETHING BIG. OMG. THe CEO, Suho’s dad, that 6854o47898635 find your favourite curse word. He released the violence story about Seyeon to cover the scandal about him and a younger actress. And now he stole his song. MISTER! YOU ARE A DISGRACE. Sis threatens to let everyone know if bad CEO doesn’t fix the song. AND SUHO HEARD EVERYTHING. That’s bad. Why the drama between him and Jugyeong? This is interesting. Like why are you making so much drama about something when there’s this? Now I’m so pissed. And I want to keep watching, but I have other stuff to do and I won’t have time for episode 11 tonight. Ugh! AND IT THOUGHT THAT WAS A CLIFFHANGER???? Suho runs away and bumps into Seojun, but keeps running away, crosses the street without looking and now... THEY ARE BOTH GOING TO GET HIT BY CAR. WTH? My heart can’t handle this? Why do you do this to me writers? Because I’m upset about the changes in the love plot? This is going too far TT OKay it’s not they are about to get hit, they get hit.

And that’s the end. I’m scared of watching the previews now... Okay they weren’t as bad as I thought, but... Yeah. I’m going to hate what is going to happen. But that will have to wait until... like tomorrow. Or maybe even the day after tomorrow as I am super late on my schedule from today and it’s midnight in five minutes... I need to be more productive, or else I am going to keep on having bad grades...