#gave me so much in one third of a film that others don't manage in 2 hours... majorly just. how gentle it was with its characters

[farminglesbian]

Christa & Birgitt - Die stillen Trabanten (2022) Thomas Stuber

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 3

Propaganda:

Gene -

"Has a special interest in film and almost works himself to death because he doesn't think his film is as perfect as he wants it to be. He completely botches a project on purpose, an action blockbuster, because he felt like it wasn't respecting the thing he loves the most."

Kei -

"It was the scene in which Makoto and Nao discover that he was able to stuff so many wild plants into his bookbag bc there was literally nothing in it that sold it for me. I can't put it into words. I just see that and I know. I know that boy is autistic."

Arthur -

"His powers are literally fueled by his special interest in knights and chivalry."

Euini -

"I relate a lot to his social anxiety, especially his performance anxiety that occurs when he's being watched by people, particularly due to his stress at needing to follow the plan/do things the "proper" way in order to not feel like he's a failure. he also stands like a lil autistic kid and i appreciate him so much for that.

(LIGHT SPOILERS) basically, he has a test that he needs to take in order to advance as a witch, and he keeps failing it because he cant perform properly while being watched by other people, even though he knows the "right" spells to use and why he's supposed to use them. on his third attempt of the test, he's prepared a "script" to use so that he can follow it and not worry about failing in the moment (in this case, his script is a hand-written book of the proper spells to use and the order in which he's supposed to use them), but when a part of the exam changes, he's no longer able to follow his script. because he's been taught all his life that there's only one proper way of doing things, his way of thinking is very rigid and he's not able to deviate from his plan without panicking. luckily, one of his fellow examinees (richeh from the autistic anime girls poll 💕) is able to convince him to try and change the way that he does things to something that is more attuned to his personal needs- basically change the way that he casts his spells and which spells to use so that he doesn't need to struggle with doing things in the way that everyone says that he should; the way that he cant seem to manage. but, even before richeh helped him with that though, he was still finding way to modify the "proper" spells a little bit to better suit his weaknesses. he was trying so hard to fit in to the mold that witch society gave him, but it just wasnt right for him and he was making it work however he could."

Westar -

"something something Westar's entire character is an anomaly amongst the other denizens of Labyrinth in that he's a big goofball in a world where everything is dictated to the extreme by its ruler. if that's not an autism metaphor of some kind I don't know what is."

Sousuke -

"Sousuke Sagara is an ex-child soldier turned teenage special ops who has to go undercover at a high school to discreetly bodyguard another student. The only problem is that he has no IDEA how to act like a "normal" teenager. Sure, you can say that a lot of his mannerisms come from the whole "raised as a child soldier" thing which, fair, you could make a decent case for (C)PTSD. However, he's also extremely serious and has notorious flat affect and does not understand when other people are joking at all. He's incredibly literal; there's several scenes where he misinterprets what someone says, like the time he asked the art teacher what a model was supposed to do and got a rambling flowery metaphorical response about "becoming one with nature" so he ran off to hide in the woods. Another thing, his social skills are… lackluster at best. He's very blunt, and also a terrible liar for an undercover agent, when the student in question confronted him his strategy was to repeat the same phrase over and over again. One time he's challenged to see if he can pick up any girls, and after a brief misunderstanding his "improved" flirting tactic was to jump in front of them and say "Hi! Would you like to know the names of defense agency spies?" Speaking of, Sousuke has an obvious special interest in the military tech and giant robots he works with. He reads their magazines for fun and was able to rattle off the specs for a model Russian tank. The first time he actually looks happy is when he accidentally starts infodumping in front of the class while introducing himself. One time he got distracted on a mission (and need I remind you, Sousuke takes his job VERY seriously) because he found someone who was also interested in the giant robots and got into a full-on conversation with them and completely forgot what he was doing. It is IMPOSSIBLE to read this boy as allistic. And sure, he might be a little stiff, but he's also very caring in his own awkward way. One time he gave a girl flowers as an apology gift…because they were poppies and he told the girl she could get rich by selling opium on the black market. The "picking up girls" challenge mentioned earlier ended with him helping a grandmother pick out a toy for her grandson. He agreed to pretend to be someone's boyfriend for a day (it went exactly how you'd expect, but it's the thought that counts). In conclusion: stan Sousuke Sagara. and vote for him too."

Katsuhira -

"His entire thing over the course of the entire show is that he doesn't feel pain or emotions like other people. He isn't 'interested in himself' or other people (low empathy) and doesn't realize that the things that happen to/because of him do effect other people, he doesn't realize when people have a crush on him or want to be friends, and all of this is stuff he kinda comes to realize as the show progresses. He struggles to care for himself physically because of the lack of physical and emotional input he experiences, and his friends canonically often cook for him and have to remind him to eat, and is a bit picky about what he eats. He cannot read social cues to save his life and is very blunt and honest when communicating with others, and doesn't talk with much tone or emotion in his voice."

John -

"Is very loud and passionate and says everything he thinks out loud, not understanding why others may see that as weird. Has difficulty controlling his volume, so he's almost always shouting."

Yuuri -

"So he models his entire life around the first celebrity he gets a crush on. He's takes up that celebrity's hobby, he gets the same kind of dog that his crush has, and he definitely has his bedroom wallpaper with his crush's face. But then, he actually meets his crush. And his crush likes him back. Naturally he panics over this and proceeds to deny it for months until his crush straight up kisses him. Then like a day later, he just, buys a ring and proposed to his crush on the spot. He's the guy ever. He's so socially awkward, yet somehow still incredibly cocky."

Yoshimori -

"Baking special interest but does Not Get math my beloved."

[sweetiesicheng]

jeonghan - episode

word count : 636

-

"three, two, one, start."

"okay! let's go this!"

"come on! hurry!"

an episode of "going seventeen" was being filmed. this episode was going to consist of a scavenger hunt, but the catch was that each member of seventeen was partnered with a member of the filming crew. this episode was also featuring the point system that was created in the "don't lie" series and was continuing from a previous recording. every team also had a small camera because half of the camera crew was partnered up.

and who were you partnered with? your boyfriend, the one and only, yoon jeonghan.

"okay, we have five things to look for," you said to jeonghan, who held your hand. you looked through the list in your other hand before recognizing something, "oh! i saw this one when we were moving the equipment! come on!" you started to turn around to run off, but you couldn't move much since jeonghan didn't run with you. "babe, come on!" you said to him.

"we don't need to do anything. i have enough points," jeonghan said to you. he was clearly ready to just find a place to relax instead of playing the game.

"you're in third place, jeonghan."

"so? i have the first place prize, you," he said and started smirking at you.

"yoon jeonghan!"

"yes, my love?"

-

after somehow getting jeonghan to move, you managed to get a few of the items on the scavenger list. jeonghan started getting competitive, which made your time together s lot more fun.

"over there. i see it!" jeonghan suddenly announced. both of you hurried to a light post, where a flag was tied to the post. you stepped onto the concrete lip and jeonghan held your waist while you untied the flag from its spot. "we gotta hurry back."

"okay," you replied and jumped off the ledge.

the two of you hurried to run back to where the game started at. you passed by a few teams along the way, still looking for items on their respective lists.

“hey! they have the flag!” you heard dino yell, making some of the others look at you two.

"y/n, hurry!" jeonghan yelled at you as you two ran. vernon, dk, and a staff member started chasing you but gave up half way through.

"i can't run! you know that!" you yelled at him.

"after all of these episodes, you can't keep up?" he questioned and looked back at you with a grin. he held his hand out to you, and you grabbed it despite knowing you'd slow him down a bit.

the two of you made it back but noticed that some of the guys had also just made it back.

"what place did we get?" he asked one of the crew members.

"let me check your items first," your coworker replied. you and jeonghan handed her the items and she checked all of them. "jeonghan and producer y/n...second place!" she announced to everyone.

"really?" you asked and turned around. "what about you guys?" you asked since there were more teams.

"we didn't get everything," seungkwan mentioned, "we just ran back here because of the time limit."

"we had a time limit?" jeonghan asked.

"i didn't know that," you mentioned and looked at your friend.

"y/n, you're literally a member of the production crew," your friend replied.

"listen, i think jeonghan's antics in this show have rubbed off on me," you replied while starting to walk to the others. jeonghan holds your hand as you two walk. "at least we got second," you said to him, "i think the prize is good."

"doesn't matter to me," jeonghan said to you. "got my prize right here," he said and kissed your forehead.

"yoon jeonghan! stop flirting on camera! edit the forehead kiss out!”

[formulapookie]

Beznaia kissing in a rush of adrenaline? 😍

Love that you enjoy writing these as much as I love reading it <3

28 a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

Bez is over the moon, after some difficult races he finally managed a podium, a third place sure, but still it was a podium, right behind Marquez and Pecco, who managed to win after battling it out with the spaniard.

Pecco had waited for him on track, slowing down to celebrate together, doing a wheelie on the straight of the Jerez track.

Bez made one stop more in comparison to Pecco, who was already in Parc Fermé while he was still on track.

He could see him on the mega screens placed all around the circuit, smiling on live television, complimenting the Gresini rider for the battle and almost ignoring Vale to do so.

Bez arrives in Parc Fermé as well, parking the bike and screaming with happiness, removing the helmet and giving it to the mechanic who was helping him to climb off the bike.

"Pecco!" he barely gave the man time to register the call that he was on him, practically bodyslamming him to the ground, making them both laugh, and without thinking, a rush of adrenaline fogging his brain, cupping his face with his hands and kissing him.

They didn't even realise at first, too taken by the moment and happy for each other to care about it.

The silence following their action was the only indicator they'd been stupid enough to let the kiss happen out in the open, but luckly enough a mechanic, the one with Bez's helmet in hand, was in the way on the camera filming them, so at least the world didn't see.

Pecco helps Bez up, who's trying not to look at him in the eyes, fearing he could be stupid again and kiss him once more.

Vale grabs them both by their arms, pulling them close to him. "I get the adrenaline and shit, but fucking hell try and keep your hormones in check when there's people around I don't think you want a pr scandal cause you were caught kissing here eh?"

A bit more distant, in the gresini colours, Marc is suffocating a laugh, as if Vale can talk about controlling himself after a race.

it's short i know but Beznaia are too touchy and glued to the hip to make it last longer than this 😭

Send me a Ship name and a Number and I'll write a kiss

[serialkilluh1996]

☆The star's rabbit☆

Writer-Billy Loomis x actress- @yourgraveisnothere

Warnings➛: Nothing in particular. It's pretty appropriate besides a few mentions of death and murder/Written in third person

Author's note: this is specifically written for the tagged blogger above, but feel free to read it anyway. This is only a bit of a drabble as I'm having a slight break down. That being said, this may go somewhere further with a part two depending on what my mental state does.

"This script is fucking ridiculous." Ray slams the stack of paper on the coffee table, folding her arms and leaning back into the rolling office chair, sassily letting it spin the other way.

"Ray, darlin', you CANNOT keep throwin' hissy fits every time ya see somethin' in the writing you don't like," her manager, Keith, explains, scratching his goatee as he speaks in a flamboyant Australian accent.

"Well, I can't necessarily focus if he keeps rewriting it." She rolls her eyes. "Listen, honey, you are an ACT-O-RESS. You don't write. You act. Miller makes the characters, you just play them." "Keith, they don't care about Miller or his stupid movies. His last good film was 'WEREWOLF', and he didn't even put in the effort to give it a meaningful name. The only reason people even watch the shit he makes is to see ME." She spins back around, her brown-eyed gaze locking onto Keith.

"Let's just be honest. The people don't want Miller. They want me. My face is on all of the movie cases. I'm the one that brings in all the cash in this establishment, and I expect to be treated as such." She pouts, prompting Keith to release an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.

Every day, he asked himself how much more of her bullshit he could take, and everyday, he took more.

"What. What do you want." He throws his hand up, the question coming out flat like old soda. "I want Miller to use at least a penny of his brain and think of something a little more creative. My brain cannot handle another thousand rewrites before he settles on the same stupid damsel story. Why do I always have to play some needlessly ignorant stuck up bitch who spends half the movie screaming?"

"Ray, you know the gimmick. They're not going to give someone with a face like yours a meaningful story or personality." "That's because people keep letting all these old and disgusting perverts become successful writers." Ray takes another spin in her chair, giving Keith attitude he was already too irritated to deal with.

"On the contrary, Ray. I'm a very desirable and young pervert." Both Ray and Keith turn towards the direction of the shady voice, eyes landing on the beholder standing in the doorway of the lounge. He was definitely desirable. There was something mysterious about him.

He looked about 6'0" with dark eagle eyes complimented by his sharp brows. He had thin, perfectly shaped lips, almost like a doll, hiding a set of killer teeth that could ruin self esteem with even the laziest smile.

He looks like the type of guy your parents tell you to avoid, but you don't because you're simply too drawn in by his crow-like beauty to do so.

"Ah, Forgive me for my vulgar behavior. I'm William Loomis, Co-director and writer. But, please, call me Billy." He circles in on them, hands behind his back as he stares Ray down with his manic, sleepy eyes like a vulture. They look big, almost excited, if not for the dark edges underneath that gave him an eerie glare.

Without breaking eye contact, he smirks, letting that smirk turn into a devilish grin as his eyebrows raised. He leans in on her.

"You must be Ray. I've seen your movies before. Astonishing, really." He reaches out to shake her hand, in which she squints and complies, giving him her freshly manicured hand as a sign of low hostility, even though her heart was beating out of her chest.

"And your hands. They're remarkable." He compliments, to which she snatches her hand away.

"So, you're also responsible for this stupid fifth rewrite of 'STAB'? How the hell are we gonna get this damn movie out there if a group of idiots can't even finish writing it?" She yammers, now visibly maddened by the mere sight of his handsome face. Now Ray was finally face to face with one of her tormentors.

"Fifth rewrite? What? You still think we're doing that mess of a movie?" He yanks the 'STAB' script of the table, carefully ripping it to shreds in front of them, Keith looking absolutely leveled by this new turn of events.

"The fuck are you doing?" Keith asks with audible frustration. " 'STAB' is out of the picture. It was a trash movie and now it's finally going where it belongs?" Billy throws it in the garbage bin.

"After a bit of persuasion, Miller has decided to let me take matters into my own hands. We're making a new movie," Billy leans in uncomfortably close to Ray, his eyes bouncing between her and Keith. "A better movie." He chuckles, pulling back.

Ray and Keith shoot each other a look, both undeniably confused by everything.

"You're sick and tired of being the same basic ass damsel in distress. Sick of being the frightened little girl they make you pretend you are. Don't you want change, Ray? Don't you want... a twist?" He gestures with his hands, knuckles clenching with excitement, Ray raising an eyebrow at the question.

"What if, for once, you get to fight? You're a strong woman, arent you? Playing in all these movies can only make you crave a certain... violence. You start to imagine yourself in the eyes of your attacker." He walks behind her chair, tucking her black and blonde split hair behind her ear before grabbing a handful.

"You see, when you imagine this...you see yourself when you're in your attackers eyes...." he lets go of her hair, crouching down," You imagine what all these fake killers see when they chase you....." He pokes her nose. "A rabbit. A fast bunny with a cute face and quick feet.... You see the appeal. You want to feel what they feel. You want a bunny to chase, don't you? You're sick of being the prey." He pulls out a hunting knife, placing it in her hand before pressing her knuckles down to ensure she gripped it.

"You want to be a predator....don't you, Ray?" Billy asked, looking Ray dead in the eyes as he holds dearly onto her hands, making sure she can't reject the weapon that was quite obviously not one of the props. Her face heats, eyes struggling to focus on his.

Keith looks between them, standing up in a ready stance to break up anything that happens.

"That's enough." Keith says firmly. "No, no. It's fine, Keith. Tell me more about the rabbit. About my rabbit. " Ray is enamored by the look of chaos in his eyes. She knows simply by his anxious glare that shes in for some wild ideas. He gives a hearty chuckle, flashing her with his perfect set of ivory chompers.

"Let me tell you about a woman by the name of Sidney Prescott."

Thanks for reading!

You can support me by liking, reblogging, or cashapping me @ $Fundsbrownie

[talkingwoman]

Disbelief, disappointment, resignation...

Just a few moments ago, I re-posted the text I wrote the day Elizabeth and Armie jointly and quite amicably announced the ending of their marriage. I posited that for better or worse, we would discover whether the belief in the Armie/Timmy ship was, like the profoundly wished for sequel to CMBYN, in fact a mirage, a chimera born of heated imagination, fan fictions, and yearning for romantic beauty. As often happens when I post something contrary to the prevailing beliefs in the fandom, the response was crickets. Turns out I may have been prescient, but this is not about a "Toldja so!!" moment. Rather, this post is like my stages of grief, as yet incomplete.

When Armie embarked on his parade of liaisons with young, yet publicly active and recognizable women, I questioned the move, but could never have imagined the shitstorm that descended as women complained vociferously about his sexual and emotional treatment of them. What happened next was swift and merciless. Crisis management researchers may use Armie's experience as a case study someday, but the finstas, DMS, and other messages central to the events are probably too raunchy for academic texts. Certainly his flat denial of any wrongdoing strategy failed dismally. Throughout the cascading losses of agents, film, tv, and stage contracts, I kept waiting for someone, ultimately anyone, to speak in defense of Armie. Most particularly I was stunned by the silence from Timmy, Luca, and others I had foolishly believed would publicly support a colleague, let alone friend or lover, who was enduring such attacks. Well, forget that. I literally could not believe no one came forward, but having stumbled down the Charmie trail, I couldn't understand why even a very simple line like, "Talented actor and scene partner. Loved working with him. I don't comment on anyone's private life." was not forthcoming. Mostly, I couldn't believe Timmy would display such public indifference. Saddening. Hurtful, whether intentional or not (see? I'm still making excuses for Timmy,)

In the ensuing years, Timmy gave three interviews to major media outlets. To say that I was disappointed that he dismissed the question posed by Time, as "worthy of a larger discussion" and said nada, zilch, nothing remotely supportive of the guy he once called his brother, role model, etc. is a massive understatement. In his second "Woodstock" interview with GQ he not only took pains to address rumors that his relationship with a woman he loved (his words), LRD, was a PR sham, but also failed once again to affirm his onetime friend and mentor, Armie, was a part of the "making and re-making of Timmy" that the article focused on. Well, he didn't credit Luca G. or James I. either, but they were not twisting in the wind like a bashed in dollar store pinata. Loyalty counts, even in the often cynical world of entertainment, right? Not so much, maybe.

Between the second and third GQ interviews, the AirMail interview Armie collaborated on appeared, and while that piece was gravely flawed and quickly vanished, it was another missed opportunity for Timmy or anyone else to speak consoling, compassionate words for a guy embarking on his addiction recovery journey. Not gonna happen. The most recent installment of the GQ articles should not have surprised me, but it's surely clear by now that for all my bluster I am not free of my gullible Charmie predilections. Timmy had every opportunity to say something kind, even in a dismissive mode, like, "aw, dude, ancient history. total mess for anyone to endure." about the scandal. Surely he and his team had prepared for this. What came out in the article was enigmatic in the extreme. "I don't know...it was..disorienting is a good word." Is that it? It's Timmy's world and Armie is exiled forever?

OK, I give. You, Timmy, owe me, your fans, and Armie nothing by way of explanation. Whatever you think or believe is your business. Having reluctantly accepted your continued behavior as personal agency in this matter, it is my problem and mine alone that I perceive it as a bitter betrayal of that gorgeous man who instead of showing resentment that he was not also Oscar nominated, gave you that momentous, loving push toward the snapping cameras and said "now, go shine, shine, shine". How long ago and far away that seems today.

And yet, it was there before my own eyes in this GQ article. Indisputable, maybe inadvertent revelation about the state of the Timmy/Armie ship came with the discussion of the fishy coincidence of the Bones and All announcement less than two weeks after the cannibalism stories erupted. What were the chances, Timmy questioned? What is immediately clear is that neither he nor Luca was in touch with Armie at all. When there is even a casual friendship between actors they talk about projects they are pursuing, engaged, and don't forget, co-producing. If there was any contact Armie would already have known. But check Timmy's reaction. Did he say, "I needed to let my friend know there was no evil intent in our announcement." Instead, he felt he HAD to do the project b/c it came from a book rather than someone's social media nightmare. Still, the cannibalism/Armie/Bones and All discussions endured and some would argue were exploited through to the premiere and even into awards season, with Dakota Johnson's snarky joke at Armie's expense when introducing Luca at a banquet. That's what friends are for, yeah?

The mirage seemed real. Sometimes I still flail, but time and circumstance continue to pile on evidence to the contrary. That does not make me happy AT ALL.

#heartsandparts

[voteformightyclocks]

The Year Marvel Lost

There are many people who would love to jump and argue with me on this if they saw it, but I'm here to announce that Marvel has officially lost it's position as the unstoppable giant. Seriously. And I'm going to explain how DC, Lucasfilm, and Sonic The Hedgehog (...yes. Sonic The Hedgehog) have dealt massive blows that Marvel will have to work hard to recover from. Let's start with...

The DCEU

Few companies have even had the even had the ability to attempt to compete against Marvel. The MCU got kickstarted 14 years ago with Iron Man in 2008, and ever since then the biggest competitor Marvel has had has been, well, DC. The two companies rivaled each other, but we all know how far the DCEU fell. Until they decided to do something new: a project not in the DCEU...a stand-alone Batman movie. And this movie was a BLAST! It was the closest film has ever been to a true Batman, and while it was certainly a bit odd getting a Batman movie that wasn't a crime-fighting action film, but rather an investigative film (and yes, I say this despite how badly the third act went), it was so satisfying! And I'm not the only person who believed that. And while for personal reasons I am avoiding Peacemaker (I have an aversion to blood/gore, which the show is reportedly heavy on), reviews for that were insane, too

Star Wars

...this is easily my favorite franchise of all time, but...how do I put it...the last phenomenal thing Star Wars released that could easily pound Marvel into the dirt was Revenge Of The Sith in 2005, something that released ahead of the MCU's reign. Since then, the Clone Wars TV show was the only thing that gave the franchise momentum (with Rebels managing to keep things together and Resistance being wrongfully overlooked) until the release of The Mandalorian, a show that singlehandedly revived Star Wars and made it relevant again. But at the end of the day, Marvel still took home every victory. That's why this year was major for Star Was: between Kenobi and Andor, Lucasfilm was looking to make a huge mark in cinematic history, and Marvel was getting lazy with their content. Unfortunately, Star Wars' momentum was slowed by Kenobi's questionable quality of content, and Andor has also been unfortunately overlooked for the most part, but it's worth noting that Andor has given the loyal fans something they haven't had in a long time: hope. And that's all we need to scoff at Marvel and turn back to Star Wars

...Sonic The Hedgehog

The first Sonic outing was, admittingly, something I laughed at when I found out it was a thing. Video game movies DON'T WORK. Then Sonic took a drastic turn: it wasn't a video game movie, it was a superhero movie. This shocked me, but it worked really well. And this year, we also had the release of Sonic The Hedgehog 2, which easily replicated the first movie's success. This is a much more minor victory over Marvel than even Lucasfilm had, but consider this: if a video game movie sequel can be way more enjoyable than some of the most anticipated projects the biggest franchise has pushed out around the same time...what else is possible? Who else could rise to challenge Marvel? The Mario movie might stomp the giant. Maybe the next Transformers movie will turn into a major threat. The Hunger Games prequel might be the last one standing. WHO KNOWS?!

The fact of the matter is that while Marvel's content this year has been good, it's not what we expect. Marvel has set it's own bar so high and gotten so lazy that it's come nowhere near where it needs to be to safely keep it's position. The King of Entertainment is a title that is now up for grabs, and the Mario Movie, one of the most controversial recent announcements, has the chance to take the crown for itself. This is a bad time to be a Marvel fan, but it's never been better to be a movie fan

Though, real talk, I am SUPER EXCITED for the upcoming Mario movie! Anyone else?!

[mzannthropy]

Nice contribution!

~~~SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS~~~

Let me argue in favour of Their Finest (one of my fave movies actually). I don't think his character had a chance and would have died in every version of that story. Like Phyl says: "sooner or later he'll end up in a uniform like every mother's son". Buckley was not a fighter, he would not last long on the battlefield. Also, he pretty much foreshadows it, when he remarks on the death of the producer's son (or was it grandson?) who came back from the front for a break, only to get run over by a tram. "It's never for anything." And even if he had managed to dodge the uniform, how would he be after the war ended? When all men his age would be coming back home celebrated heroes? I think of Rowley from Agatha Christie's book Taken at the Flood. He felt a bit inferior bc he never went to the front (he stayed at home bc he had to look after the farm, he and a friend drew lots on who will go and his friend ended up going and was killed). I just don't see his character as someone who is, not to be a tumblrina about it, anything other than "doomed by the narrative."

Adrift, yeah, that's what I meant when I said sometimes there was a real person who died. Same for Duncan Edwards, the Manchester United footballer (and people still remember victims of that plane crash, I know this bc I live in Manchester. Not long ago I saw a book about Duncan in a bookshop, decades after he passed away.)

I didn't count the villains bc you expect them to die (like you expect Bill to die in Kill Bill). Like you say, the Nightingale, ofc you want him to die. Same for Every Breath You Take, if you remember the trailer gave everything away, it was clear he was the bad guy and bad guys in psychological thrillers are almost always psychopaths/sociopaths. But yes I also made a better story of it, in fact very similar to what you say--Sam and the psychiatrist wife driving off into the sunset in that nice car! While the psychiatrist is the real villain (and the emo girl, idk, she can get taken in by a good relative of her mum's or something). I mean, anything we come up with will be better than the actual film, lol.

Me Before You is actually the only one where he actively chooses to die. Yet it remains so beloved. Surely, if him dying in films is a problem, then why are you (rhetorical you, not literally you) still supporting the very film where he does so voluntarily? At least all the others were accidents/fighting or kills. MBY is the bane of my existence.

FWIW I don't think he will die in any of his upcoming projects (apart from maybe All The Devils Are Here, I suspect the thieves will all kill one another by the end of the film and the money claimed by a third party).

I always want to talk about how people say that Sam Claflin's characters often die on screen, but you can't do it without spoilers, so it's difficult. I don't think it's as bad as everyone makes it out to be, but it's also important to look at the story as a whole and what it's trying to say. And let's not forget that some of these were films based on real life where a real person actually died.

Honestly, I think it's bc of that dumb fucking bumblebee tights idiotic flick (stupid bitches watch it 234 times and see him choose death every time, instead of staying with the woman he is supposedly in love with (lol he isn't, Will doesn't love Louisa), so ofc they think he 'dies in films' bc they see him die, by choice, over and over again) and bc of Finnick. Now, that one is down to the author's bad decisions in the last book of the trilogy. The films could have let him live and correct this mistake, a change I bet so many would welcome, but they didn't. Although I can argue that Finnick indeed lives (It's very simple: Katniss, our narrator, is not telling the truth. Sorted.), that is still only a headcanon.

And then, him being alive at the end is not always better. His Mycroft in Enola Holmes was already a character assassination. (Mycroft is not like that, they turned him into a cartoon villain for the sake of an original character.) Billy Dunne was not helped by the show's writing. They killed a female character too early so that they could have their overrated rocknroll ship. Alistair in Riot Club is alive, and what of it? I can't imagine many people like him. Philip in My Cousin Rachel (a film that everyone ignores anyway) is alive but he is tormented. (Although there's an argument to be made that he can heal, bc the film had him marry Louise and have children with her. In the book, Philip foreshadows his going insane. But it's open.) Oswald Mosley didn't die until 1980 and you wish he did sooner.

So, you know, it's not just about dying or living.

[kim-seung-mo]

Hi! I loved your writing about them having nightmares! Can i request one where they cheat on you and regret it because you leave him (obviously) but super dramatic and angsty hehe, thank you in advance 😻

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕆𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℝ𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕥 𝕀𝕥 (ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟 + 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕠)

I do not endorse any of the following behaviors, nor do I believe that the members of Stray Kids would do any of the following.

♩ gn!reader, cheating, crying, just really sad, ANGST.

just to be clear, i'm not going to continue with the other members, I just don't see any of them cheating...(not to say I see channie and lino cheating but you get my point)

♩♩ word count: 1k

♩♩♩ A/N: Cheating is really probably my least favorite thing in the world. I tried writing it but struggled so badly I only managed to write Chan and Minho, one because they're the first two, but also because I just had the hardest time imagining them cheating on you...especially Changbin for some reason, I was legit starting to cry while writing his ( Ĭ ^ Ĭ ) , sorry for not writing for all 8 members, you can request something else if you want~

wip list here

Chan

You were there for him through the years when he was a nobody, the many years he spent as a trainee.

You were there for him when he had the hardest time.

You were there for him when he doubted himself.

You were there for him when he was hurt, when he wanted to cry, when he was sad.

Thankfully, in the end, all his hard work paid off.

He had his own team, his own fans, his own reputation.

You were naive enough to think that your relationship would be the same as it was.

You were naive to think that you, who had been with him through so much, would stay with him until the end.

You never gave up on him.

But he gave up on you.

The first time you found clothes in the house that didn't belong to you or him, he just passed it off as "a member left them here".

You chose to believe him even though, to your knowledge, the members had never come to your house.

The second time you found an unfamiliar lipstick in the car, he said that their make-up artist had left it behind.

You believed that too, even though you knew he had never worn that color of lipstick before.

But the third time, when you saw the hickeys on his neck, you really couldn't find any excuse to believe him.

Why? Was it because you hadn't done enough? Was it because you didn't love him enough?

No, of course not.

It was because he didn't feel like he was "in love" with you anymore.

"Get out of my house."

You held back your tears, gritted your teeth and tried to suppress your emotions.

It wasn't anger, and there wasn't much sadness.

Just... just disbelief.

"This is a decision you made, and now you're going to have to live with the consequences of it."

You could have sworn to God that you contributed everything you had to the relationship.

If that wasn't enough, maybe Bang Chan didn't deserve you.

"Don't think that because you're famous now, you're a class above me."

"You're just a scumbag like all those men out there."

Two weeks later was the first time he reached out to you.

"Baby... I was wrong ......"

You just gave him a blank look and didn't say anything.

He only made you feel sick.

A month later was the first time he called you, in tears.

"It's not me they love, it's my fame, my body, the honour I can bring them, not me......"

"If only you'd understood that sooner."

You didn't continue to listen to his sophistry and simply hung up.

Life was surprisingly good without Chan.

No more sasaengs coming to your door to threaten you.

You don't have to hide when you go out.

You don't have to worry about being filmed by the paparazzi when you do anything.

You're finally free, free from the cage called 'Bang Chan'.

You were free.

But he had lost forever the person who loved him most.

Minho

How you wish he was just an ordinary man, an ordinary man like you.

If he was an ordinary man, maybe he wouldn't have met her.

The one who, like him, could stand on stage and shine.

The one who could relate to what he was feeling, what he was struggling with.

The person he had more in common with.

The person he chose over you.

How you wish he was just an ordinary man, an ordinary man like you.

If he was an ordinary man, he would be able to relate to your feelings.

No stage to showcase yourself, no fans to support you.

Just the "little things" he never cared about.

The "unimportant" problems you had to face every day.

No one cared about you, even if you were exhausted to the point of breaking.

If he were a normal person, things would be a lot easier.

When he broke up with you, you weren't surprised, to be honest.

At some point, you realized that you didn't have anything in common with each other.

Things were happening in his life that you couldn't fully understand.

The time to see each other started to become less.

You didn't even text, let alone call.

You do love him, you really do.

There was a time when your whole heart was his.

But, now that you think about it, did he ever really love you?

Did he only date you because he took pity on you?

Every time you thought about it, you got angry.

Not because he left you for someone else, it wasn't him.

It was you. You were mad at yourself.

How could you put yourself so low?

Why did you care, when he didn't at all?

Why did you try to approach him when he was trying to push you away?

What gave him the right to take away your youth?

You didn't get angry, you didn't cry, it wasn't even painful.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

A sigh of relief that you didn't know how many years you had been holding.

A few weeks later, Minho turns up on your doorstep, looking horrible, the worst you've ever seen.

You politely ask him if he's okay, and he said no.

"I regret it, Y/N, she doesn't love me at all."

"Is that so? What a shame."

"Y/N! Don't talk to me in that tone of voice...you shouldn't be like this......"

"Not like this? Then what am I supposed to be like? Like I was, obeying you? Serving only you? Who do you think you are, Lee Minho? What makes you think the world is supposed to revolve around you?"

He was speechless, his eyes widened.

"Mr. Lee, the two of us are strangers who have nothing to do with each other now, and if you insist on standing here, I will call the police. You're an idol, you shouldn't want to be on trending for something like this, right?"

"Do we really have no chance?"

"Mr. Lee, I hope you understand that your actions now will affect your team."

You've figured it out, you didn't hate him, you just pitied him.

You pitied him for not being able to do the basics of being a human being.

[teebarnes]

✨ | I'm Fallin' For You, Darling.

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader

Summary: Both you and Chris have quite the relationship, it all started the day you gave him a marker.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): Fluffffff, Angst for sure, talk of anxiety (not a lot but also a lot).

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 100 followers! It means the world, I hope you like this one as much as I do. (Sorry that's a lotta words).

⤑ Click here for my taglist so you can be notified when my new fics are posted.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

When Chris Evans is nervous, there is only one thing that calms him down. And that one thing is you and the fact that you allow him to doodle on your hands all the time.

The premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier was the first time you saw Chris so nervous. Him constantly rubbing his hands together or bouncing his leg underneath the press table and the times when he'd fiddle with the hem of his shirts. These were things you noticed Chris did when he got nervous, and it seemed that you were the only one who witnessed them.

The third day into the film's press tour, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew what it felt like to be anxious, the feeling settling within the depths of your stomach or the constant avoidance of looking out to an audience. Sometimes you'd excuse yourself a few times throughout interviews just to catch your own breath.

~

The whole TCA: TWS cast sat along the stage of the comic-con panel. The hosts introduced you all, crowds cheering loudly when they saw everyone.

You took your seat next to Chris, who was already fiddling with his plastic water bottle that he'd been gripping so tightly on, you could already see the indents on the bottle. You smiled, looking out to the audience waving back to some of your fans that you could see holding signs up for you in the crowd. It was, in fact, times like these that your anxiety shot right out the window, replacing that anxiety with happiness and admiration of your fan base.

Five minutes into the panel talk and questions were directed to Scarlett and RDJ. You knew you wouldn't be talking anytime soon as, of course, like all other press tours, the interviews were heavily coordinated. So before you'd have the chance to speak, Sebastian, Anthony, and the Russo brother would go first. Sitting back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, your eyes following down to where Chris was bouncing his leg. Then, setting your water back onto the table, you pulled yourself and your chair closer to the table, reaching over across Joe Russo, who observed what you were doing.

"Could you pass me the marker, please, Joe?" you whispered to him; he smiled, nodding handing you the marker. "Thanks", you whispered again.

You returned to the comfort of your seat, Scarlett and RDJ still bantering. You look forward to the audience and give a tiny little smile to the fans who were waving at you. Your eyes looked down to your arm; you wrote a little message on your forearm, so he knew what the pen was for.

You scooted a bit closer to Chris just enough so you could hand him the pen. You lightly looked over to him; your hand went underneath the table and across to rest on Chris' lap. It was right there when his leg stopped bouncing. You held the pen in your hand, waiting for him to take it from you. Chris looked up turning his gaze to you; you gave him a smile nodding.

His eyes directed back down to where your arm was. He read the note you had written for him, 'Use my arm to doodle. It helps with anxiety :)'. He let out a smile, all the while letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

You looked back up and over to Sebastian, who was now talking; you felt the pen slip out from your grip, the marker clicked and the coldish ink embracing the surface of your skin.

One of Chris' hand rested firmly on your forearm to keep it from moving, and the other used to doodle. That was the first time in the history of you knowing Chris to be calm and content. No bouncing his leg or fidgeting. He was completely aware of everything instead of his growing anxiety.

~

It was after that moment Chris slowly began to fall in love. He never expected someone to notice his worries and do something about them. But, the way you sat there while he doodled on your arm didn't phase you at all, you wanted to support him, and you showed him that you did.

Years later, It became a force of habit, the tiny hugs you'd give Chris just to slide a marker into his pocket before going on stage. The small slight movements he'd make before he took your hand into his so he could draw.

You'd become someone who knew him better than he knew himself. The many dates he took you on lead to you moving in with him. The small moments you both had messing around on set and loving him in the silliest of moments meant eternity to the pair of you. You knew that you had fallen in love with Chris Evans, and so was he. You both just didn't realise that the moment would be a forever moment. If you hadn't offered him a marker that day, where would you be?

It was now the premiere of Avengers: End Game and the last press tour you'd have for a while. Today's interview consisted of a comic-con panel, the same panel you happily let Chris doodle on your arm five years ago.

You both sat together, his hand protectively on your thigh. You were speaking into the mic as a fan had just asked you a question about possibly seeing your character in the future of the MCU. Chris sat there attentive to your voice while he drew on the top of your hand. It was a little duck with a Boston Red Sox hat holding a heart.

Once you had finished answering the question and someone else began to speak, you looked back down to see what Chris was drawing. You squinted in wonder; looking back at Chris, you wondered why he was drawing this. Coincidentally, you had drawn a duck on him one day in between an interview—a duck holding a heart wearing a NASA cap. Chris looked at you with his cheesy smile. Oh! he was up to something, you thought. Chuckling, you watched him colour in the small heart with a red marker. He was, in truth, quite a good artist; you managed to take a photo of all his doodles over the years. But this one, this doodle was a bit different; it meant something more to you.

After you had both finished the panel, you were set on getting a new tattoo. Kissing Chris' lips, you told him that you'd see him at home. Chris had asked you where you were going, so you said you were going out to dinner with your mum in town, which was true you just left out the part of you going to get another tattoo. Your parents were in for the weekend for reasons unknown and wanted to see you before they left, so you had already planned to see them. He nodded, kissing you once more before departing ways.

You both were always so sentimental, and you knew as soon as you saw that duck in a red sox cap holding a heart on your hand that you wanted it to be a forever doodle. That day, when you had drawn a duck on him, he went and got it tatted on his hand the same day. The first tattoo visible on Chris' body, the only tattoo that wasn't hidden under his shirts. In contrast, most of your tattoos were on your arms and wrists; this was another tattoo among the few others you had on your hand, others being the original six symbol and some writing of your favourite quotes.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the chair in your private tattoo artist's studio, getting the duck tattooed on you forever. The tattoo was a reminder of memories both you and him had experienced together.

~

The red sox hat, being where he took you on your first date five years ago. To a Red Sox game, of course. You didn't have anything to wear to represent the team, so Chris kindly offered you his Red Sox cap to wear; five years later, Chris had to purchase a new hat because you kept his one. Of course, he didn't mind; he loved to see you dressed in things that were his; the hat was one of them.

"I don't have anything to wear", you sadly pouted at Chris, looking at him in his Red Sox jersey and cap.

He looked down to you as you stood next to him, holding his hand softly, looking out to the stadium. He smiled, taking his cap off and placing it over your head.

"Now you do", he smiled, leading you down the stairs to your seats. You weren't really a fan of baseball. Still, once you had experienced your first game, oh man... it became a routine for both you and Chris to attend every game the Red Sox were playing at.

~

The duck, the furry little animal you had brought home a few months after you had first moved in with Chris two years ago. In all honesty, you wanted to get a turtle, but as soon as you saw that slight yellow fluff waddling around at the pet store, you wanted nothing more than to take it home with you. Chris couldn't say no to you, so the duck became your baby.

"y/n?" Chris came around the corner where you'd sat yourself talking to the little duck... Chris had been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes when he found you sitting there with the pet shop worker.

The excitement in your eyes told him that you had forgotten all about the turtle. You looked up at him smiling, patting the empty seat next to him. He sat watching you pet the small baby duck with your thumb lightly. "I'm naming him Alfie" you smiled brightly, looking back at Chris.

He took the duck out of your hands and chuckled, "Alfie, it is".

~

The red heart...

A reminder of how much you both loved each other. Something that had never gone away, the love both you and Chris had continued, it grew stronger over time, of course with a few hiccups here and there but never enough to break that love. But this, the tiny little heart being tattooed onto you, was one similar to the heart that homed your middle finger on a ring. The rose gold ring he gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend four years ago.

You rested your head on Chris' shoulder as both of you watched the office. A new series you'd been watching together, it was a few months after your first date with Chris, and you both were head over heels with each other.

"Hey y/n", he whispered.

"Mh?"

"I'm fallin' for you darling."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "You're what", you whispered softly, you heard what he said, but you just needed to hear it again.

He brought the small box out, opening it to reveal a rose gold band hearts making up the band. "I said I'm falling in love with you", he smiled before continuing ", Be my girlfriend?" he sweetly asked.

You chuckled, letting him slide the ring onto your middle finger. "Of course", you whispered back to him before cupping his face. You both looked at each other, you saw it, you saw the life you'd been wanting. It was with him.

"I love you".

~

Sitting at the dinner table with your parents, you briefly looked down at the now wrapped tattoo on your hand. You had thanked your tattoo artist for another fantastic job; the new ink was precisely how Chris drew it on you earlier today. Your parents were eating away and so were you.

"It's great to see you again, Hunny", your dad spoke.

You smiled, nodding. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What's on your agenda for this weekend?" you spoke again, taking a bite of your food. Your mum and dad took one look at each other before your mum stopped to talk.

"Your dad and I are going to old friends party", she smiled at you. "party", you chuckled. "Since when do you guys party".

"it's an engagement party, I mean... do you have some parties we could go to" your dad joked.

"First of all... no." you laughed, cringing at the image in your head of your parents dancing and drinking. "But that's nice. I hope you both have fun, wish whoever a congratulations for me" you smiled.

"Oh, we will", your mum outwardly said. You took a second to squint your eyes in curiosity to your mum's tone. "Mhkay".

~

It was the end of dinner, and you had parted ways with your parents, taking a Cab to the home you shared with Chris. "thank you, driver," you smiled, hopping out of the cab walking up to your driveway. You giggled, seeing Dodger patiently waiting for you at the front door. "Hey buddy", you smiled, opening up the door for him to jump all over you.

Closing the door behind you, kneeling down to cuddle your pup. Dodger wagged his tail giving you kisses. "Shhhhh", you chuckled lightly, "were you waiting for me, huh?" you watched Dodger roll around on the floor. You stood up, taking your shoes off, leaving your keys on the hook. "C'mon, baby", you whispered, gesturing for Dodger to follow. You both walked down the hall, Dodger by your side.

You could hear the snores coming from your room and knew Chris was already sleeping. You opened the door, looking down at Dodger "go keep my spot warm for me, please", you sweetly asked your pup, who did just that. You watched him gently jump up onto the bed and curl up on your side of the bed.

Walking further down the hall, you went to take a shower. Changing into the PJs you left on the warming rack in the bathroom, you followed back out to check on Alfie, who would be sleeping in your office. Once that was done, you head into your and Chris' room. You took off your slippers and ushered Dodger to sleep in his bed. You kissed his head before he left. "night, bubba".

You slide in next to Chris, who had his back to you. Covering yourself with the blanket, you slide one arm around his bare torso pulling yourself closer to him. He was so warm, and you loved it. Chris groaned, turning over. He smiled sleepily. "Hey hon, how was dinner?" "It was good", you kissed his lips, "That's good," he said, pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

"Hey babe"

"mhhh", he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too".

~

The next day you were doing a panel with the marvel cast. Like any other day, you answered questions, so why did you feel this one would be different. You were a bit nervous today, like you had woken up wrong, or you were waiting for something to happen. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

You were talking to your audience. It was a large panel today consisting of the MCU cast, if not all of them. Maybe that's why you were so nervous; the bigger the cast panel, the bigger audience to speak to. "Make eye contact and hand gestures y/n," you thought to yourself right before you begun to answer the fan's questions. You start to use your hands gesturing when a fan had asked you about your character's personality.

Chris smiled, watching you intently; fans noticed. But as you were gesturing, he noticed the tattoo. He had to double-take when he saw your hand, leaving a small on his face. After you finished your question, he leaned in. "I love your tattoo, babe", he whispered; his comment calmed your nerves a bit as you chuckled ", just following your lead."

You both lean back into your seats as Joe and Anthony Russo began the next half of the panel. You were already forty minutes through... only another forty to go.

Anthony spoke, "As you may know, this will be the last you'll see of your favourite actors and actresses for a while..." Joe turned to the entire panel. "So we put together a little something of your time over the last decade" Joe turns back to the audience. "So sit back and relax."

The panel turned their chairs to watch the big screen, the lights dimmed, and the video rolled. It was a decade gag-reel of everyone in the MCU; Chris had pulled your chair closer to his; he knew you were nervous, for what reason? He didn't know, and neither did you. He should've been the nervous one; he was about to do something in front of the entire audience he had been planning for months.

Your head rested on Chris' shoulder, laughing with everyone else as the embarrassing footage rolled through. There was more footage of you and Chris than anyone else, but again, you were too clouded in worry. You didn't overthink about it.

Then there it was, a clip you didn't know existed—a video of you dancing with Scarlett and Jeremy on the infinity war set. You were being videoed from afar, but Chris comes into the frame making funny faces before pointing at you. You blushed a bit, laughing lightly.

"You see her", Past Chris spoke to the camera. "One day, I am going to marry her" he wiggles his finger over to your past self, who was still dancing around like an idiot. You swear your heart stopped, so ultimately, you started bouncing your leg. The video stopped, and the lights came back on. There were hushed voices; you knew they were looking your way, but you couldn't tell why.

You turned your chair, trying to avoid whoever was looking at you. Not noticing anything, nobody was talking. You had turned your head to look down to the end of the panel where The Russo brothers were. They were all looking in your direction, including the whole cast panel. You jumped slightly when Chris caught your leg mid-bounce; you turned to look at him, his eyes dazzling before you. Oh, that smile, you knew that smile all too well. Chris was smiling like a little kid.

Chris tapped you on your thigh, which caught your attention, so you looked down. This is it; this is the same feeling you felt when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. You burst into tears after reading the message on his arm; Chris' forearm rested in your lap while holding a black marker in his hand. You sniffed, looking softly at him. He was now in tears too. Taking the black marker from his grip, you clicked it; resting your hand on his forearm to steady yourself, you answered his question.

'Will you marry me, y/n?' the question written in his bold writing stared right back at you.

You always had your answer 'of course.'

You closed the lid on the pen, and Chris opened his hand; your engagement ring sat in the nook of his palm. He slides it onto your ring finger right next to your rose-gold one. You smile blinking through the tears, you turn to him, and Chris had already stood with his arms in the air.

"SHE SAID YES"

The whole audience got up cheering; he leaned in, cupping your cheeks, both of you laughing through your kisses. He had lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. He set you back down; you wiped the tears from your face laughing while wearing your t-shirt. At that point, you knew everyone was in on your proposal; you turned to your cast members, who were all clapping.

"Give a round of applause for the future Mr and Mrs Evans!" Joe spoke.

You went around hugging everyone who had gotten up just to congratulate the pair of you. One by one, your friends embraced you in their arms.

"Congratulations", two-voice spoke from behind you, "oh my god, you idiots", you chuckled, pulling your parents into a big hug. Chris stood next to you as your dad pulled him into a hug. "Your fiancé sends her congratulations", he laughed, referencing the conversation you had with them last night.

Chris looked down at you, "They had texted me last night what you had said. I'm surprised you didn't catch on", he laughed. "I- I didn't know... I was curious after mum said it so suspiciously but didn't think," you mentally face-palmed yourself.

And like that, the panel was concluded. Everyone congratulating you and Chris before leaving. Chris had set up a little engagement party back at your house; everyone was enjoying their time having fun. You sat on Chris' lap still in shock, his arms wrapped around your waist "you didn't see that coming, did you?" he smirked, looking up at you.

"No... no, I didn't" you laughed sweetly. Your hand ran over Chris' forearm where it still had both his and your writing on it. "That was the best proposal ever" you looked at him, smiling, "I'm glad, darling" you both leaned into each other, lips connecting softly.

"I've fallen deeply in love with you, Mr Evans".

"I'm still falling for you".

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

Chris Evans Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 18

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

NOTE: Third Person POV starts after this sign: " ✪ "

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

With Bucky, three short days felt like three months.

The next few days were spent oh-so-blisfully slow with Bucky constantly next to you, either naked or clothed. You were always at each other's skin and flesh the second you would close your laptop (you have been busy doing your end of the presentation you had to pitch in next week for Sam, after Steve gets you formally and officially fired). You’d be making out on the couch and soon afterwards, clothes flew around like money being tossed carelessly. No matter what the situation was, it always ended up with you naked, grasping each other's bodies, grazing each other's skin — in your bedroom, in the kitchen, in the shower, and on the living room floor. He wore you like a necklace, your thighs wrapped around his neck as you sat on the kitchen counter, him on his knees, devouring every bit of you. That time, you tried your best to stare at him as he ate you.

Tantalizing were his eyes, his mouth moving against your core. Legs shaking, you’d scream his name over and over again as you came all over his mouth, your screams clashing with the sounds of pots clanging against each other.

Then, you’d move to the shower where you had your thighs wrapped around his waist, your bare back against the bathroom's slippery walls as he thrusted inside you. His strong hands kept you steady the whole time as your legs trembled around him, making you weaker and weaker each second, like your knees had been struck by a wrecking ball.

He gave and he gave and he gave pleasure, riding you into your euphoria, into your oblivion. You were no longer the master of your body. You became his, as he was yours. You submitted fully to his godly control. The phrases "fuck, babydoll" and "you feel so fucking good" and "say my name, sweetheart" were forever etched in your brain. You kept the frustration of not being in control to yourself. You kept it all as he instructed you to say his name, say it louder until you could no longer remember yours, until you could no longer hear the dripping noise of the water droplets against the floor.

His face, the epitome of a god and a devil. A god that brought your voice and soul to heaven, so bright and glorious. And a devil that brought unholy things to your body.

As much as you had your thighs wrapped around him, you knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You knew it all too well.

Since then, you couldn't hear the clinking of utensils against each other or the faucet leaking or any kind of liquid dripping without seeing what Bucky looked like during those hours — knees on the ground, head between your thighs, body dripping with water along with your juices. And how he made you feel. God, the thought of him alone already brought you to heaven.

Afraid that you won't be able to get your mind (and body) off of Bucky, you texted Nat to meet you in a coffee shop a few blocks away from the apartment, hoping she could accompany you while working on the pitch deck. If you spent one more time with Bucky with your presentation undone you would be — well... Either way, you would be screwed.

This morning, you left a note on the nightstand, letting Bucky know you were with Nat. You planted a fleeting kiss on his forehead one last time, smiling at him, hating to leave his side, before heading out to meet with Nat who was almost an hour late, anyway. Still, you didn't get much done, missing Bucky's presence.

Then the hopes of getting your mind off my man went down the drain, hearing the clinking of glasses and the dripping liquid from espresso machines on the café counter. You bit your lip, staring at the laptop screen in front. Your screams echoed on the walls of your brain, together with morphed images of you and Bucky leaving your traces everywhere in the apartment, tainting lust everywhere. You bit your lower lip harder. A sudden rush of heat climbing on your body, from your toes, to your thighs, and your center.

Why didn't I just go to the public library?

"... Y/n? Hello? Earth to y/n?"

The images vanished like dust in the wind, and were replaced by Nat snapping her fingers on your face. Bucky's voice, together with yours that were echoing in your mind soon became faint street noise, along with the café's playlist. "Are you okay?" She asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

With your throat dry, you cleared your throat (which hurt even more). "Y-yeah." You finally managed to say. "Yeah, no, I was just having a tiny problem. You know what, I'm thirsty," You tapped a waitress' shoulder, "Hi, can I please have a glass of cold water? Thank you."

With that, she nodded and turned around, fetching what you needed. As soon as she handed you the glass, you immediately downed the whole thing but it still didn't quench your thirst.

"Is he riding you?"

You nearly choked on your water, hearing Nat's question. "W-what?"

"Sam Wilson. I mean, the work. With Sam?" Nat frowned, stirring her cup of coffee. "Is he?"

"Oh no, not at all! He's been really great and very appreciative." You replied. "But he has this assistant who's a complete total bitch. Even Bucky doesn't like her."

"Oohhh, interesting." she said. "Tell me all about it."

Thankfully, telling Nat about the meeting that happened three days ago did get your mind off Bucky. Highlighting the little banter you and Sharon had in line with the models and the whole marketing strategy was Nat's favorite. Of course, Nat lived for the drama. Especially if it were others'. To her, you were just characters on a television show. Now, all she needed was a bucket of popcorn.

"You should've seen the whole thing, Nat." You smirked. "The look on her face when Sam agreed with me? Priceless!"

"Wow, you ate her up." Nat chuckled. "Now, I'm sad I missed the show. If I were there, I would've taken a photo of her disappointed, sad ass and had it framed and had it hung on the bar. Steve would approve of it."

You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head. Even though that was pretty badass of you to do, Sharon was a woman living in a man's world and as you thought about that encounter, she was just doing her job. If she were a man, you would've still said the same thing. "Too harsh. A little cheer would suffice."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Like a woop, woop?"

"I mean not literally but sure. Whatever floats your little boat."

"Peter was right. You're a boring old hag." A sip of coffee. "Hey, how's the little skipper, anyway? I miss that little kid."

You fowned. She always had a nickname for Peter. If it's not skipper, it's slugger, or sport, or tiger, or any nickname for a kid you could think of. "You know he's just as young as I am, right?"

"The guy looks like a kid and sometimes acts like one." Nat pursed her lips, pointing it out. "So, when's he getting back from his corporate retreat?"

The last you heard from Peter was yesterday when he sent photos of him and the rest of his team somewhere by the lake. He looked a bit worn-out by the deep bags under his eyes but his wide smile said otherwise. Winston Schimdt was with him in all the photos, hair still perfectly gelled, spiking up in one direction. You wondered how much gel he always had to consume. And then felt sad for his sticky hair.

"Some time on Tuesday, I think." Then, you showed the photos to Nat who carelessly took the phone from your hands.

"Where on earth is this?"

You shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I couldn't even pin his location. It seems like he's literally off the radar."

"Maybe he's in a galaxy far, far away." Nat joked, remembering Peter's fondness for Star Wars. "What do you even do on a corporate retreat? Think about money?"

"I don't know but whatever it is, he says it'll help keep his mind off things." You said, leaving out the part that Peter was, dare you say, "lovesick." You honestly didn't mind telling it to her but you just knew that she'd ask you a bunch of questions you don't even know the answers to.

Nat nodded while scrolling mindlessly on your phone like it was her own. You tried to get it back but she gripped it tighter.

"Hope Bucky's taking care of you? Oh," she lifted her eyes back to yours, the light on your screen illuminating her smirking face, "he's taking care of you, alright. I heard you two haven't been able to keep your hands off each other. You're like... leeches."

"Ew. Think of another metaphor." You scrunched your nose up, cringing.

Nat took it way too seriously, thinking off into the far distance. "Barnacles on a boat?"

"No."

"Sorry, that's all I can think of."

You chuckled. "Where did you hear that, anyway?"

"I didn't."

"So, how did you — "

"Remember how you found out about me and Steve?" She cut you off.

You hid your face on your palms as soon as the realization dawned on you. "Oh no."

"Oh yes." She took another sip of her hot coffee, her eyes fixed on you. "Babydoll, you've been wearing him like a damn perfume since day one and you love it."

And just when you thought you had kept Bucky away from your mind, there he was again, slithering his way back. The images flashed back, like a montage in a romance film — however cliche that sounded.

"Well, I don't not love it." You shied away, looking down on your shoes which still had a tiny bit of mud from your previous running sessions.

"So, you two are dating now?"

You sheepishly nodded your head, avoiding her stare. You told her about that same day you had your meeting: Sam's confrontation and the conversation you and Bucky had that night. As much as you didn't want to put a label on things, and as much as you hated the god-awful "talk", you fat did it anyway, under the stars as you lied on your backs in that little tent of yours.

"Sometimes, I think," Bucky traced the stars in the pitch-black skies with his finger, "that the stars aligned for us." He finished by poking your nose which elicited a giggle from you. A weird sound you only used with Bucky, and for Bucky.

You turned around and wrapped your arm around his torso. "You're getting cheesier and cheesier each day, Mr. Barnes."

"You bring it out of me, doll." He chuckled.

"Hey, why do you call me doll?" You asked in a whisper. "I'm sure as hell do not look like one."

He looked at you and traced your jaw with his finger, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. "Dolls are sweet yet fun to play with. Remember when I made you that drink? You said it tasted fruity and minty — "

"Fruity and minty." You laughed, reminiscing.

"And I've never played with quite a doll before." Then, he met your eyes. "Then, you happened."

"When you say play, not like, playing with my feelings, right? 'Cause you know this doll can punch, James. I won't hesitate."

"Don't worry, y/n." he kissed the tip of your nose.

The word "dating" wasn't explicit at that moment, but you didn't need to, anyway. All you needed to hear from him was the next words he uttered:

"I won't give you any reason to."

"What have you guys been doing when you're not having sex, anyway?"

"Nat." You scolded but answered anyway. "We watch movies."

"Boring."

"Oh, you know what's a good movie?" You asked, ignoring Nat's little comment. "The Grand Budapest Hotel."

"It's Budapesht."

You tilted your head to the side, frowning. "I'm pretty sure it's Budapest. 'Cause y'know, Budapest is the Budabest."

"No. Budapesht." She insisted.

"Budapesht is the Budabesht?" She nodded. "Yeah, that doesn't sit right with me. I'm gonna stick with Budapest."

"Anyway... will you tell Peter about you two when he gets back from... wherever the hell he is?"

"Well, yeah of course. It's Parker." You replied, chewing your inner cheek. "But not right away." Bucky's words echoed in yours.

"Oh, you're gonna butter him up." Nat chuckled, finishing her cup of coffee. "I know how. Give him free drinks for life."

"Even if I wanted to, I can't 'cause last night was my last shift at the bar." You smiled proudly, thinking back to the last drink you ever made last night. Everyone was there to witness it — except Sam. When you sent the photos to Peter, you were bombarded with a series of questions that you promised to answer once he gets back.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Nat suddenly exclaimed, catching other people's attention, clearly annoyed with her. She stifled a giggle, looking away from them. "That reminds me." She said it quietly this time. "We're throwing you a little party tonight. Steve's idea."

"Like a surprise party?"

"Well, it's not a surprise anymore 'cause I blabbed. So, act surprised when you get there and finish up your presentation."

You posed no further questions, the idea of a surprise party warming your heart. You just smiled at Nat, and got back to the laptop screen. "Yes, ma'am."

Later that night, you did as you were instructed to do as you opened the door to the bar: act surprised. "Oh my god, you guys!" You exclaimed, putting on a wide smile on your face. The small party might have been a surprise but the decorations put up wasn't. Hanging from the ceiling on multiple threads were your photos which used to be on the walls.

Every single one of them.

Below were everyone waiting —Nat, Steve, Nick, Bucky and even Sam — and watching your reaction as you adored the whole set-up. Steve was the first one to approach you, enveloping you in a hug.

"Oh my god, Steve." You muttered, hugging him back.

"Surprised?"

"Not really." You pulled away. "A pretty little number may have told me." you said, looking over at Nat who already had a beer in her hand. She acknowledged you by winking.

"Natasha." Steve sighed, also looking at Nat. Caught, she turned around and took a big gulp of her beer.

You began to walk towards the little group; an odd combination of people, you might as well add. "This is amazing, Steve."

"The whole party was my idea but these photos?" He said, pushing you carefully towards Bucky's direction who took delight in your expression. "Was your man's."

You walked towards Bucky, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Hey, you."

"Hey, doll." He greeted, kissing your cheek. "Like the place?"

"Are you kidding me? I love it!" With your arm still around his neck, you admired the photos hanging from the ceiling once more. Bucky let you go, greeting the others as well.

Nick engulfed you in a hug, and whispered. "If he hurts you, I'll kick his ass."

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Nick, you can't even hurt a fly. But thanks, anyway. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"You better." He said. “We actually got acquainted while we were decorating the place. He's a good man, y/n. It's a good thing you didn't go out with me."

"If you want, I'll set you up with Parker." You joked.

"Ha-ha, you're a very funny girl."

With all the tables drawn towards one side of the bar, a big space on the center was in view, perfect for dancing or any kind of performance you could possibly think of. You all went towards one of the largest booths that could accommodate all of you. On the table were a bunch of American food — wings, fries, burger, you name it. And of course, cold beer.

While eating and finishing your first bottle of beer, you asked the group to settle a tiny debate, which Nat didn't like.

"It's Budapesht!" Nat exclaimed, insistent. A crack on her voice was evident.

"Budapest!" Nick boomed, downing his first bottle. "Don't you know how to spell? It's clearly Budapest!"

"I told you, it's not Budapesht! Budapesht is not the Budabest. Budapest is!" You argued with Nat, high-giving Nick. "Team Budapest for the win!"

"Take it easy there, honey." Bucky chuckled, grabbing you by the waist.

"Budapesht!"

"Budapest!" You and Nick exclaimed.

"I'm Russian, it's Budapesht!"

"Bup-bup-bup-bup." Sam butted in, one elbow on the table, a finger pointing up the ceiling. "If there's a swarm of termites in my house, do I call the pest control, or the pesht control?"

"Ha! Budapest wins!" You yelled which annoyed Nat to no end. She threw a stick of fries to your face. "Hey!"

"Come to Russia." She said in an accent. "I dare you."

You all broke out in a laugh.

After eating most of the food, Steve stood up, retrieving something from the back of the bar. When he came out, a big karaoke machine was wheeled in. "Rented this baby for a special occasion." Steve said proudly, slapping the top of the karaoke machine. On his other hand was "Who wants to go first?"

"Hell yeah, I'd go first!" Sam shouted.

You couldn't even begin to describe the first few hours of that night. Sam and Nick were the most wasted among all of us, quickly developing a weird friendship. They hogged the karaoke machine the most, singing duets, singing a LOT of Adele, and Lady Gaga. At one point, Sam even sang a Taylor Swift classic, We are Never Ever Getting Back Together, and made a weird "weeee" sound while singing the song which cracked you all up. Steve sang an old mellow song. Nat sang American Pie, her raspy voice blending all too well with the melody. The only people left who haven't got a chance to sing and dance on the floor were you and Bucky.

"Come on, you lovebirds!" Sam groaned, shoving the songbook in front of your faces.

The others joined in a chant, finally convincing you and Bucky. You stood up, hand in hand, and approached the machine. "Wait, before we start," Bucky said, holding up a bottle of beer, "let me raise a toast to the girl I like most — "

"Oh, Bucky."

"To y/n!" He said your name proudly, raising his bottle. The others did as well, saying your name.

"And to Steve!" You raised your own. "For having the guts to fire me."

"To Steve!"

"And to you," you turned towards Bucky, "for believing in me."

"Oh, cut the crap already!" Nat shouted, cupping her mouth with her hands. "Sing, bitches!"

And on cue, Bucky punched in some numbers. A familiar melody came out, which made you shake your head at Bucky. "Oh god no."

"You love this song!" Bucky said.

"No, you love this song!"

He started to sing the first verses and when he almost came to the chorus, he offered his hand. "Come on, doll. Sing it with me... Now, I've got you in my sights. With these..."

"Hungry eyes!" You finally gave him, letting him pull you towards his body so you can share the microphone.

"One look at you and I can't disguise!"

"I've got hungry eyes. I feel the magic between you and I!"

"I feel the magic between you and I!"

You continued to sing, your backs facing the door. Suddenly, another voice chimed in, making you and Bucky turn around.

"Hey, guys!" Peter closed the door behind him, dropping his bags on the floor. "What did I miss?"

✪

On a high-rise building in the Upper East Side, Tony Stark of Stark Industries sat on his office chair, looking over the never-sleeping New York City. He watched the cars and people go by, like watching ants do their work in an ant-farm. So tiny. He thought, happily sitting on his empire he had been building for decades. He watched in amusement as more and more car lights appeared. The hues of red and yellow looked like teeny little dots in his view, which reminded him of stars, making himself the glimmering moon which stood high up on the skies, unreachable yet adored by the many.

A knock on the door interrupted his high. "Come in." Tony said.

A tall figure walked in, with legs that could go for miles and with hair as golden as the sun. "Sir." He spoke.

Tony didn't turn around in his chair, rather he looked at the tall glass windows in front of him. The city lights became blurry. All Tony could see now was his reflection staring back at him, and Jarvis'. He glanced at Jarvis on his right, then back at his own. "Jarvis." He acknowledged. "You have something for me, I believe."

"Yes, sir." Jarvis replied, the English accent heavy on his tone. "But I'm afraid you're not going to like it."

A frown started to form on Tony's face. "James?"

"Yes, sir." The tall blonde replied.

Bucky had been missing quite some appointments with potential partners and investors. Not that he did most of the work, anyway. He would sit in on meetings on end, letting his assistant or Leonard, his concierge, deal with the negotiations. In the end, Bucky gets most of the profit "running" the hotel. He was merely a figure, a presence needed for signatures on piles of papers. But he would know if he was being undermined, if he was being scammed. He knew how to handle business but he just chooses not to. No one knew this, of course, not even Peter; except the parties involved on Bucky's side and Tony Stark. Tony lets it slide, only because the White Wolf had been improving the past years but God did he hate that name.

"I gave you that hotel and no way in hell are you changing the name." Tony sternly said. They were eating dinner at a fancy restaurant in the Upper East Side.

Bucky's treat to butter him up for his good news. Well, good news for Bucky but not so much for Tony.

"I knew you'd say that." Bucky replied. "That's why I went ahead and scrapped the old name and changed it into something new while the renovation was happening."

"Oh, James." Tony sighed, his knife stopping midway through the juicy steak. "What's the name?"

"White Wolf."

"Oh for fuck's sakes."

"Mr. Stark?" Jarvis repeated for the third time, finally grabbing Tony's attention.

"Sorry." He replied. "So, what is it? What did you find?"

"Mr. Barnes has been seeing a girl."

Tony rolled his eyes and finally turned around in his chair, looking at Jarvis. "He's always seeing girls."

"I'm afraid it's different this time, sir. It's why he's been missing a lot of meetings lately. And it's just not a girl." He said.

"Apparently, she's Peter's best friend."

"Huh, that's a twist. Around Peter's age?"

"Yes."

"That is new."

"But that's not all, sir. I'm afraid James is getting acquainted with Mr. Rogers once more."

Tony's body stiffened. Eyes unblinking. "Rogers? Steve Rogers? Are you sure?"

"A hundred percent. This girl James has been seeing is an employee of Mr. Rogers. Some kind of bar underneath an apartment building on the Upper West Side."

Tony frowned. "I thought Rogers had been taken care of."

"He was, sir. This was just some... big coincidence."

"It's a big mistake." He spoke. "I need you to keep an eye on James and pull out Rogers' files. Find anything — everything you can about this new life of his."

"Understood, sir. How about the girl?"

Tony frowned, not seeing anything wrong with it. "I won't worry about it too much. If he falls in love, then that's good." His eyes flickered to the photo of Peter's mom who passed away years ago. "I mean, I did before."

"Alright, sir. I'll be heading out now."

He nodded, watching Jarvis walk away from him. "Jarvis."

Jarvis stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his boss once more. "James can never know, Vis. He can never know."

[sweetcherrypie1967]

I’ve seen other people do this so I’m going to share one of my short stories from my Dramione Imagines book (on Wattpad and FF.net) I hope you enjoy! Also this is not my image, it helped create the inspiration for this imagine though!

After All This Time?

He knew what day it was, of course he did. Firstly, it was all anyone would talk about and secondly, he couldn't get it out of his mind. He told himself to just forget about it and go on with his life instead of moping about but he couldn't help it.

You see, today was the day the girl he loves is getting married.

And no, not to him.

Draco Malfoy paced the floor, how could he have gotten himself into this mess in the first place? How could he have fallen in love with Hermione Granger of all people? And even worse than that, they let each other go. Both too afraid to take the risk and admit their feelings so they drifted apart, trying to bury it inside them.

Draco knew today was his last chance, but what chance was there? A small fraction but with a bigger possibility of losing her in every way, rather than one, forever. Even if she had loved him, did she still? He found that hard to believe since she was getting married, to Ron Weasley of course.

Hermione and Draco had started getting close a few months after graduating Hogwarts, he had gone out of his way to apologize to everyone he had bullied in his school years. After that they kept bumping into each other, they quickly found they had much in common and before he knew it, he was falling in love with her. Hermione and Ron were "on a break" for awhile so one night Draco almost kissed her, only for her to subtly reject him and inform him that her and Ron were back together.

Though Draco couldn't help but notice the regret in her eyes. After that, neither had the courage to meet up again.

Knock knock knock

His heart pounded, it couldn't be her...could it?

Thoughts swarmed through his head. What if it was her? What would he do? Draco wasn't sure. It wasn't whoever it was knocked again that he realized he hadn't even moved.

The blond walked to the door of his flat and opened the door slowly.

"Jeez, Drake, what took you so long? Been waiting out here for ages," Blaise Zabini said letting himself in.

"Oh," Draco said plainly, "good to see you too, Zabini."

"What's with the tone? Too disappointed that I'm not a certain bride to be?" Blaise said from the couch. Draco turned to look at him quickly, he's never told Blaise about him and Hermione. How did he know? Blaise just smirked, "ha! I knew it! You still fancy the know-it-all!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about.." Draco said unconvincingly. Blaise just gave him a disbelieving look for Draco to lose the act. "How long have you known?" He added.

The Italian smiled, "since Hogwarts."

"I didn't fancy her in Hogwarts," Draco argued sitting down next to his friend.

"Oh yes you did," Blaise said. At Draco's confused look he continued, "drooling over her throughout the Yule Ball? Fretting over her safety during the Black Lake TriWizard Tournament challenge? Staring longingly at her from across the Great Hall? Anything sounding familiar?"

Draco gaped, "I did not!"

"You may not have realized it for yourself, mate, but the rest of us did," he told him.

"'The rest of us'? Draco asked.

"Oh yeah. Me, Daphne, and Theo would joke about it all the time. You've loved her for a long time," Blaise said.

He put his head in his hands, "what do I do, Blaise? She's getting married."

"You stomp off to that wedding, throw open the doors and object! But you can't do it till they say 'if any object come forward now bla bla bla' because it's gotta be dramatic as hell," Blaise said standing up.

"But what if she doesn't feel the same and I make a giant fool out of myself? I don't want to lose her forever," Draco said sadly.

"And what if she does feel the same? What if you two get your happily ever after and ride off in the sunset?Now, are you gonna just sit back and watch that weasel take your girl?" Blaise asked.

"No," he said standing up as well, "no I won't."

"Than go get her!" Blaise said excitedly. Draco then dashed out in a hurry, "hey! Wait for me I gotta get this on video!" Blaise called before going after him.

****

Draco had managed to slip into the wedding unnoticed with the help of Blaise and his wife, Daphne Greengrass now Zabini, as she had become a close friend of Hermione's since Hogwarts and was now one of her bridesmaids. Before leaving he'd changed into a nice suit and Blaise had grabbed a camera (then proceeded to film everything to "capture the memories"). Now he was sitting with Blaise near the back, trying not to glare at an overly giddy Ronald Weasley, and unable to help bouncing his leg in anxiety. It felt like forever since he's even seen Hermione in person. Not since that night...

Then the music started, all eyes turned so he did as well.

And there she was.

Draco's heart seemed to stop, he had no words. She was simply stunning. Though he recognized the staged smile on her lips.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her the entire time, that was until Blaise nudged him, it was almost time. Draco steeled himself for whatever may happen.

"..if anyone objects please say so now or forever hold your-"

"I object!" Draco said standing from his seat.

It was dead silent for a moment, then there were gasps all around the room.

"Draco?" She said barely loud enough for him to hear. Then the whispering began. "Is that Draco Malfoy?" "What's he doing here?" "Why would he object?" But he didn't care, all Draco cared about was the look on Hermione's face when she saw him.

Her face was confused then it lit up brighter than he's seen so far, and on her wedding day that's saying something.

Draco walked across the aisle towards her and she met him half way.

"Please don't do this," Draco practically begged, holding her arms for emphasis.

"I don't understand, what're you doing here?" Hermione asked, putting her arms on his.

"I love you, Hermione. I've loved you for a long time, I was a fool not to say so sooner," Draco rambled though he meant each word.

"'Mione?" Ron asked not quite hearing anything they're saying, both ignored him.

"You...love me?" She asked with wide, almost teary, eyes, "after all this time?"

"Always," Draco said.

"Oh Draco I love you too," She said, tears now falling down her rosy cheeks. Hermione leaned forward slightly as if to kiss him before looking to her fiancé then back at Draco, "hold on a moment."

Hermione then walked to a dumbfounded Ron, took off her ring and put it in his hand. "I'm so sorry, Ron. I hope one day you can forgive me," she told him before kissing his cheek and rushing back down the aisle. Her and Draco crashed into a passionate and breathtaking kiss (earning a whoop from Blaise and Daphne) before walking hand in hand out of the Church.

****

Blaise had kept this tape and played it again and again for many occasions. The couple's anniversary, eventually at their own wedding, when they had found out Hermione was pregnant with their first child and even when they had their third. Eventually Ron did forgive Hermione and they became friends again, he even warmed up to Draco and through him Ron found his own happily ever after with Pansy Parkinson. It had been a surprise for everyone.

But now they all watch the tape, joking and laughing with each other as it is nothing but a distant memory.

[pedropascalunofficial]

My Cousin, Pedro Pascal

Ximena Riquelme

16 NOV 2017 12:53 PM

Before being the protagonist of Narcos or filming with Colin Firth, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal (42) was a child whom I knew very well because we are from the same family. A man who today looks with nostalgia and some perplexity at his place of origin and his history and who still does not answer what would have happened if he had stayed here.

The first memory I have of Pedro is in the arms of my mother during his baptism, in the garden of my house. She was a weeping bus and had huge black eyes. I was 9 years old. It was cloudy. Years later I learned that the priest was Gerardo Whelan, the legendary rector of Saint George's College. Pedro's parents were not at his baptism: my uncle, José Balmaceda, my mother's only male brother, and his wife Verónica Pascal were asylees at the Venezuelan embassy, which was on Bustos street, near my house. Pepe, as we used to say to my uncle, who years later would become a famous gynecologist, an expert in fertilization, was then a 27-year-old young doctor, in those days wanted by Dina. Some time before they had hidden Andrés Pascal Allende, Mirista and his wife's uncle. One day they came to take him to the José Joaquín Aguirre Hospital and he managed to escape by jumping through the roofs. It was October 1975.

Like most of the Chilean families, there were supporters of both sides in mine: for and against Pinochet. Trying to help Pedro's parents, my dad called a relative who held a high position in the Army. "Tell the children to get asylum, because I cannot guarantee their lives or that nothing happens to Veronica," was his reply. She was 22 years old. Then began the journey of my uncles and with them that of my cousin José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. Pepe and Verónica had to start living secretly in different houses. Pedro, who was only 6 months old at the time, and his 3-year-old sister Javiera were left in charge of my mother's older sister, "Aunt Juani."

The second memory I have of Pedro is when I accompanied my parents, who carried him and his sister in their arms, to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Venezuelan embassy so that their parents could see them through the window.

My uncles left the Venezuelan embassy for the airport in January 1976, Pedro was 9 months old and obviously does not remember anything. I just remember that they didn't let me go. Pedro could not record the image, which I could not see, of his grandfather Luis Pascal Vigil - a very prominent lawyer - singing the National Anthem on the balcony of Pudahuel. A memory that is not mine but that I adopted, for cute.

As the people of the International Red Cross advised our family on time, Pedro and his sister did not leave the embassy with their parents, but arrived directly at the airport: this allowed their passports not to be stamped with the "L" for " limited to circulate "that stamped on the exiles who left. Therefore, the years that Pedro and Javiera came could come to Chile without problems. And for that reason, the choclón of cousins, we were able to share long summers in Pucón and some winters in Santiago.

The Balmaceda Pascal first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark, in October 1976. A year later they left for San Antonio, Texas, where Pedro's father was able to continue improving himself thanks to a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Veronica earned a PhD in Child Psychology.

________________________________________

"But Denmark is invisible to me," Pedro writes me by email. A while ago I proposed to interview him at a distance to travel a little about his history, and here we are, in front of the computer, sharing memories. "It is invisible to me, like everything that happened before. Although once, after telling him about my childhood, a doctor told me that the temporary separation with my mother was trapped in the memory of my body and that I could remember it through the senses".

My cousin, far away

The third memory I have of Pedro is a summer in Pucón. It must have been in 1978. "Pepelo", as we said, was no longer a guagua but a restless, very blond boy, who was so impacted by poverty in Chile that when he went out on the street with his gringo accent, he asked any person: "Are you poor?" He took food out of the pantry and gave it away. With my cousins we rented a warm wooden house, colorful, with the door frames out of square. It was summers with trips to those black sand beaches that burned the feet and picnics in Caburgua with lamb on the stick. They took us to mass and Pedro sang very inspired.

"This is where the memories become more vivid, like dreams," he writes. "I remember so many details: my older cousins, children my age who were like family. The beach seemed endless. I also remember running down the hallways and stairs of Aunt Juani's house looking for Santa Claus at Christmas."

XR: What was it like leaving your parents in the United States?

PP: "I think the trauma was going back to the States, although I obviously wanted to be with my parents. But childhood in Chile, with the Balmaceda and Pascal, was a dream, a world where nothing was missing, pure adventure and love."

Now that he tells me that, I remember that image of Pedro hanging on the neck of our aunt Juani, crying in Pudahuel because she did not want to return. At that time going to the airport was a panorama: we were going en masse to leave him and his sister, who traveled in charge of the stewardesses.

In 1981 I went with my parents and my two sisters to see the Balmaceda Pascal in Texas. I remember an eternal road trip from Miami, I remember Pedro's house, in a middle-class neighborhood, comfortable, beautiful, lovingly arranged by his mother. I remember the tears of my mother and Pedro's mother when we said goodbye to return to Chile. We still didn't know when they could return. Although Pedro never fully returned.

In December 1983, Pepe and Verónica were able to enter Chile. The whole family was packed on the terrace of Pudahuel, waiting for them. I remember the Balmaceda Pascal walking from the stairs of the plane to the International Police. I remember them happy, triumphant. Pedro was 8 years old and chose to stay in my house, in love with my girl sister.

We all went to Quintero, to the house of our grandfather Pepe, a great smoker, tennis player, and fanatic fanatic who took us to the town cinema to see double Tora! Programs, Tora !, Tora! More Bridges on the River Kwai and other old movies. Surely Pedro had to see several. Since he was a boy he said he wanted to be a "director". He liked horror movies and was a big movie consumer, like his dad.

PP: "I remember going to the movies with the cousins and the grandfather to see anything with Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone. They leased me VHS movies to see alone and happy."

XR: You once recited Hamlet on the beach with Grandpa.

PP: "No, it was Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it and lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the United States."

After that summer, Pedro began to come more sporadically. He was already grown up, at school and then at university. They had moved to Newport Beach, California. His father was doing very well. But Pedro, not so much.

PP: "I think that the way the family supported me in Chile was the opposite of what I experienced in Newport Beach. I started well in California but at 13 years old, very involved in the cinema, reading plays, books, TV, TV, TV, obsessed with these things, I had the bad luck to find few like me. It was a world very attached to conservatism and its privileges where not fitting was punished. There was a group of shitty goats who were my friends the first year and became my terrors thereafter. I don't enjoy remembering that time, but there are deep connections from back then. Friends of my parents who are like parents until today."

Pedro's mom soon found a performance arts program at a high school in another district. A more inclusive school compared to Corona del Mar, the neighborhood where they lived in Newport.

PP: "My mom and my driver's license were my salvation. There I was able to unleash my appetite for movies and theater without limits."

As time went by Pedro became a fun, provocative teenager with character. He said he was "lazy", but he went to study Theater at NYU in 1993 and he loved it. I started to see it less. When he came to Chile he went out with his friends, I was already married and having children.

XR: Did you find that our way of life was very boring?

PP: "Bored, no. But overwhelming regarding life's permanent decisions. I didn't have the Catholic structure, and I felt there was no room for a young guy like me. Like suddenly, from one trip of mine to another, you had lives that included marriages and children, and pleasing the visits of the gringo cousin was no longer an option for all of you. I had to duel, because I was jealous of his inattention."

XR: Do you find us very conservative?

PP: "Yes, but it is a major contradiction for me. I come from the perspective that no one can decide how someone else should live their life. And well, in our family there are social rules that are very firm. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tries to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much with our family for fear of hearing their perspective, but what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask any member of our family by the name of Balmaceda, and I would get it."

In 1995, Pedro's parents returned to Chile with their two youngest children, Nicolás and Lucas, who had been born in California. Javiera also came for a couple of years. Pedro stayed in the United States.

PP: "It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family in the United States and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had in California. I never thought that this could change as suddenly as happened to my parents when they became exiles. Everything felt fragile. Also, I knew that my parents' marriage was wrong and that the tension of those circumstances was hardly going to end. My mother's life felt in danger and the line between needing her, being there for her and finishing my studies and pursuing a career was a horrible conflict. I knew that my mom wanted me to continue doing mine, she never would have wanted me to sacrifice it."

XR: Did you really resent the failure of your parents' marriage?

PP: "For me it was the hardest time. I have not been able, and I do not know if someday I will be able to reconcile completely how my parents separated and the tragedy that came after that separation. The circumstances of my mother's death made it very hard for us to keep her memory of who she was. It hurts so much ... Sometimes I feel distressed and try to face it in the best possible way, because I know that my mother would not like me to do it in any other way."

Pedro lost his mother when he was 24 years old.

PP: "It's hard to say what I remember most about her. You met her, so it is easy for you to understand that she was the love of my life. I think of her every day. Since I don't pray, I can't say that I have a practice to feel her close, but I live for her even though she's gone, and that makes sense to me."

From Alexander to Pedro

XR: Do you believe that pain makes us stronger or does it seem like a horrible cliché?

PP: "I don't think it's a terrible cliche but a profound reality. In some way, losing the most important person in your life, discovering that something like this is possible and that what you fear most in life can happen is an identifiable and permanent moment. There is a before and after after his death. I think, yes, that old age would not have been for my mother, there would have been no footwear with her. Of course, no one wants to grow old, but others can handle it better. I would not have liked to see my mom struggling with it, but at the same time, I wish I had her every day still with me."

It may have been the summer of 2012. Pedro said to our aunt Juani: "I am 37 years old and I still can't get what I want. And it's the only thing I know how to do." It had been a long time since the death of his mother in the summer of 2000 that Pedro had changed his name. From Pedro Balmaceda to Pedro Pascal. He had been searching for years, years of casting where, by being called Pedro Balmaceda in the studios, they hoped to find a Latin or classic Mexican phenotype. He had only made minor appearances in some series.

XR: Although you did not regret it, you did wear Alexander at some point. Why?

PP: "That was a desperate period and directly related to having lost my mother. I was desperate to work, to fill my days with something more to suffer. To eliminate the confusion that casting directors had with this guy named Pedro with European or Caucasian traits, I changed my first name to Alexander and took my mom's last name, Pascal. That only lasted a year, until I was able to find a job and be selected for an Ibsen theatrical classic. But it was too late for people to identify me as "Alex". Also, my mom named me Pedro. So the decision was to call me Pedro Pascal, a name that fits with me more than any other."

Soon after that came Brothers and Sisters, other small roles, and later more important ones in The Good Wife, The Law and Order, The Mentalist, until Game of Thrones, Narcos in 2015 and now, filming Muralla china with Matt Damon and William Dafoe - last year we all went to see his cousins together - and then Kingsman 2 with Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry and Channing Tatum.

XR : Have you ever been excited acting with such powerful actors?

PP: "I have been thrilled with everyone."

With fame have come the new meetings of the cousins with Pedro Pascal. We all want to see him, take pictures of us, we ask him for greetings-chub for friends, we inflate ourselves by saying that he is our cousin. That Peña, the protagonist of Narcos and the sexiest guy in the world, is my cousin-brother. He laughs and humorously calls us "scoundrels" because now we remember him. In fact, that's what our cousin chat on Whastapp is called.

But there is also the modesty to disturb him. Know that you are busy. That while I'm sending you these questions, you're filming in Boston with Denzel Washington. And to feel that there is always a lack of time to speak to him calmly, a space to ask him questions like the ones that occur to me now:

XR: Exile changed your life. Can you imagine growing up in Chile?

PP: "I don't know, because I haven't thought much about it. I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time."

XR: Do you miss something from when you were Pedro Balmaceda?

PP: "You know? There is very little difference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. As it is all part of José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I feel the same person. But with back problems and more money."

XR: Would you like to start a family?

PP: "Being a dad? I don't know. I have no fucking idea. I love being an uncle. It may just end there. But anything is possible."

XR: Marialy Rivas said something very nice about you on Saturday: that when you play a character, you pretend that this character brought a whole previous story, much bigger than what they are telling. And it's true: you carry a bigger story than you tell it.

PP: "I don't know, cousin. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what turns out. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes.

In reference to what Marialy said, I think she means that I put all my confusion, joy and sorrow, ambivalence, hostility, rage, love, lust, greed, compassion, ignorance, knowledge either to indicate a map with the finger on Narcos, throwing an arrow in Game of Thrones, lashing out at Kingsman. Cool! But I think my experience in theater taught me that."

XR: Would you someday like your life to be a script?

PP: "No way." (in english)

XR: Do you still want to be a "director", as you used to say when you were a kid?

PP: "Yes! That will be my way of being a father. Father of a production."

XR: Is dreaming about an Oscar the dream of every actor, even if you don't confess it?

PP: "I confess that possibly… yes."

[paper-mirio]

Decrescendo

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: When making hero costumes, the job of a support company is to maximize the efficiency of a quirk while also making sure the hero is protected. However, a massive oversight is made when nobody considers the consequences of constant exposure to loud explosives.

Words: 4,782

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of harmful accident, mentions of surgery, slight angst

A/N: I’d like to issue a major apology to @pawpaw-sev for taking a full year to write this. It’s finally here, and I hope you enjoy it. (I also peppered in hints of HOH!Midoriya, simply because I felt like it.)

"Tch, I get that you can't stand the old man, but at least give me a warning next time you pull some rebellious bullshit. You could've gotten us killed."

You took in a deep breath, willing down the words that threatened to spill out in anger. Not wanting to lash out at your boyfriend (since you knew that wouldn't result in anything pleasant), you steadied yourself and prepared to defend your actions for the third time that evening. The sight of Bakugou, focused on his phone and not even bothering to look at you when delivering the scathing comment, nearly made you snap. Having just sat through a lecture about holding responsibility and taking accountability for one's actions from a hero who seemed to do neither, you were reasonably on edge. Luckily, you'd managed to convince Endeavor you were being honest. You'd hoped your boyfriend would be just as willing to hear you out.

"It wasn't 'rebellious bullshit,'" you repeated, using air quotes. "I already told you, I didn't hear him give the order."

"Mhm, sure. Whatever you say."

It would seem he was not, in fact, willing to hear you out. You rolled your eyes. It wasn't as if his opinion mattered, anyway. He was only your boyfriend, the person you trusted with your heart.

"Let's just get back to campus, I need to go talk to Recovery Girl," you said before walking away. You'd only made it a few steps before being stopped by a hand on your shoulder. Bakugou stepped in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you up and down.

"What do you need to see her for?" he asked, the bite in his voice from before missing. "I didn't see you get hurt earlier. What happened?"

You paused, confused by his question, before recognizing the look in his eyes as concern. Giving him a teasing smirk, you placed your hand atop the one that rested on your shoulder, giving it a small pat. "Aww, are you worried about me?" you laughed. "I'm fine, Endeavor just wants me to check in with her to make sure nothing's seriously wrong and that I can keep doing work-studies without any issue."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "How the hell does that answer my question?"

You let out a sigh. "My ears? I told you I didn't hear his instructions earlier. And like you said, I could've gotten us killed."

He narrowed his eyes at you before letting his hand fall from your shoulder. Turning on his heel, he began walking away. “Fine,” he grumbled, “but don't take too long. We had this movie night planned for weeks now, and we’re gonna start without you if you’re late.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing your hand on your chest as you followed him. “Have you no loyalty, sir?” As you caught up to him, you made sure he saw you wipe a fake tear from your eye. “And here I thought I had a faithful boyfriend, but he would watch a movie without me?” Your attempt to hold in your laughter failed as Bakugou roughly shoved your shoulder. “And now he’s violent! Are there any lows you won't reach?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, though you see a slight smirk forming on his lips. “Don't be late and we won't watch it without you, dumbass.”



You were late to the movie. Recovery Girl had apparently been off-campus, assisting with a surgery in Musutafu General Hospital. A third-year student interning under her was in her place at the infirmary. After taking you through a few examinations, she told you that you had some mild hearing loss, though it shouldn't impact your ability to continue your work-studies. Satisfied with this, you thanked her and returned to the dorm.

Despite trying to enter through the front door as silently as possible, you heard a shout of your name as soon as you stepped in. “There you are!” said Ashido, waving to you. “You only missed a few minutes, so hurry up and get over here! Bakugou saved you a seat.”

You laughed, closing the door behind you. “Alright, give me a second!” You quickly removed your shoes and ran over to the couch, ignoring Iida’s warning not to run. You dropped into the spot next to Bakugou, wasting no time before snuggling up into his side. He scoffed, but immediately wrapped an arm around you.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered. “I told you not to be late.”

“Oh? Weren't you the one who tried to get us to wait for them?” joked Kaminari. “What happened to the concerned boyfriend we saw just a few minutes ago?”

“Aww, you did?” you cooed. You leaned up and pressed a kiss onto his cheek, giggling at the blush that quickly formed. “Thanks for trying, Katsuki. Sorry I was late.”

Bakugou scowled, ignoring the teasing from your classmates after your display of affection. “Whatever, let's just watch the damn movie.”

You settled into your spot, a smile on your face as you directed your attention to the movie. After a few minutes, your smile began fading. You tried your best to follow the film, but at moments you just felt lost. It seemed the dialogue would reach your ears, but you couldn't quite make out what was said. Still, you could gather most of it, so you tried to bear with it for a bit longer. Eventually, however, you realized you weren't going to understand the plot if you couldn't hear everything. You let out a sigh, looking around the room. “Alright, who has the remote?”

The others looked to their surroundings, checking to see if it was near them. Bakugou raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “Why do you need it?”

You gestured to your ears. “Can't quite understand it, so I was gonna turn on the captions.”

Bakugou nodded, before saying, “I can just raise the volume if you need me to. The captions are gonna take up a bunch of space on the screen.”

Mina shook her head at that, saying, “Uh, Aizawa-sensei said we needed to keep the volume down tonight. We already have it pretty high as is...”

Sero waved to catch your attention. “Wanna switch spots? You might be able to hear better closer to the TV.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “Ah, no, that's okay. Thank you, Sero.” You felt guilty about disrupting the movie this much already, and you didn't want to inconvenience anyone further. “I can just try and follow along as much as I can.”

“Found it!” exclaimed Kirishima. “It was beneath the couch cushions. I can turn on the captions for you if you want, (Y/N).”

You glanced around the room at everyone, shrugging to yourself. “If it won't bother anyone...”

Midoriya cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could you turn them on, please? I kinda need them, too...” Kirishima smiles at you two before hitting a button on the remote. You all turned back to watch the movie as it continued, now with captions accompanying the dialogue.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was looking over at Midoriya, something resembling guilt in his gaze, before glancing back down at you. “Your hearing’s not that bad, is it?” he murmured.

You shook your head, leaning into his side with a smile. “Probably not,” you answered. “It's just been a long day, I think. Nothing to be worried about.”



Bakugou coughed, the smoke and dust from the debris clouding the air around him. After clearing his lungs, he looked at his surroundings. The remains of the building surrounded him, but he luckily avoided being crushed under any of them. The sound of his commlink turning on ripped his attention from his surroundings, as one of Endeavor’s sidekicks spoke up. “Suspect is detained. Ground Zero and (H/N) stunned him enough for us to capture him while he tried to escape. Status?” Each member of the team gave their location and status, and medical teams were dispatched to those who needed them. Bakugou gave his location and reported that he had no injuries. “And (H/N)?” asked Endeavor.

Silence. No response over the comms. At this, Bakugou startled, quickly looking around him only to see nobody within sight. “Ground Zero, they were with you, correct?” asked the sidekick. You were. You had been right there, fighting the villain at his side. After cornering the villain, he'd shouted at you to move before rushing the villain. He'd set off a large explosion in close range to the villain, stunned by your attack, and to you, who hadn't moved. That was the last he'd seen of you before the roof collapsed, and now you weren't responding.

“Ground Zero?” Endeavor called, bringing Bakugou back to the present. He cursed under his breath, quickly standing and beginning to search the area for any sight of you. He looked around the area, hoping you had managed to avoid the falling rubble—unlike how you failed to avoid his attack. Shaking his head, trying to dismiss the thought, he continued to look for you, now shouting your name and waiting for some kind of response. If you had been trapped under the debris, there was nothing he could do but wait for help to come.

Cursing again, he spoke into the comms, “I need a rescue team at the northern side of the building. I can't find (H/N), and they're not responding.” As the sidekick began to assure him that help would be arriving soon, he heard loud coughing nearby. Quickly rushing to the source of the noise, which was a few meters away from what was left of that side of the building, he found you. You were leaning against the wall of the adjacent building, hands on your knees and trying to catch your breath.

His relief at seeing you, alive and safe, was quickly overshadowed by anger. He'd thought you were seriously hurt or worse, because you failed to dodge when he told you to, and you couldn't even be bothered to answer anyone when you were within range to hear the multiple times he called out to you. With a scowl on his face, he stormed towards you and went to grab your shoulder. “(Y/N) what the fuck was that back there—“

The second his hand met your shoulder, his world flipped and he was on his back on the ground. You’d pinned him down, moving to restrain him before meeting his eyes. Your eyes widened, and you quickly released him. “Katsuki?” You stood, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Geez, give me a bit of a warning before you sneak up on me like that. I thought you might've been that villain.” You grinned. “Nice attack, by the way. Pretty powerful too; my ears are still kinda ringing from it. Did they detain him?”

Bakugou looked at your hand reaching out to him, confusion plastered on his face. Maybe your commlink had been broken in the attack, he reasoned. That would explain your lack of response to the team, but...

“Yeah, they got him,” Bakugou explained, taking your hand and standing. “Don't fucking scare me like that again though, you hear me? When you didn't answer I thought—“

“Uh, Katsuki?” you cut him off. “Could you speak up? Can’t quite hear you when you mumble like that.”

“I’m not fucking mumbling!” he shouted. At this, both his and your eyes widened in shock. Yours, because you saw him clearly yelling at you, yet no sound reached your ears but the constant ringing. His, because he saw the small amounts of blood coming from your ears.

“Shit,” you both said.



You arrived back to the dorms with Bakugou, hands intertwined. It hadn’t even been a day since the mission, after which you'd been taken to a hospital. You'd undergone surgery to repair your ruptured eardrums, but your hearing couldn't be salvaged. In less than a day you'd gone from mild hearing loss to complete deafness in one ear and very little hearing in the other. Endeavor had excused you from your work-studies for the time being, as you needed time to adjust to things.

You took in a deep breath and squeezed Bakugou’s hand lightly to grab his attention. He looked to you, squeezing back to let you know he was listening. “I’m just gonna head to my room and get some rest. It's been a long day. Do you want to come with?” you asked, trying to put on a smile.

He nodded, not saying anything. He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, causing a far less strained smile to appear on your face. You squeezed his hand again to ground yourself before opening the door to the dorm building.

Almost immediately you were met with the sight of your classmates, all rushing to greet you. Some looked excited to see you, while others had looks of concern on their faces. All of them, from what you could see, seemed to be shouting at the two of you, probably asking questions about what happened while you were gone. You saw Bakugou shout something at them before they all went silent, focus solely on you now. You flushed under the attention, curling in on yourself slightly before giving them a small wave. “Hello?” you tried, not quite sure how to address them.

You saw Kaminari ask something while pointing at his ears, so you nodded and hoped you'd guessed his question right. “I got surgery on my eardrums because they got ruptured during the mission,” you explained, pointing to the cotton padding you had in both ears. “I have to keep these in for the next few days, and hopefully the support company will deliver my new hearing aids by then.” As soon as you mentioned hearing aids the questions started again, with many lips moving at once adding to your confusion. “In case I wasn't clear,” you stated, raising your voice and hoping it would be louder than they were, “I can't hear you all right now.”

That, again, shut everyone else up. From his spot near the front of the crowd, Midoriya waved to get your attention. Once your eyes were on him, he began to sign, “Are you alright?”

You smiled at him, suddenly very grateful that Midoriya had decided to teach you JSL when the two of you were younger. You let go of Bakugou’s hand, missing the way he frowned and looked at you in response, before signing back, “I will be.”

Koda perked up upon seeing this exchange, quickly joining the conversation by asking, “You two know sign?” When the two of you nodded, he turned to you. “Everyone's been asking what happened on the mission. Last we heard, you got taken to a hospital. Bakugou wasn't answering anyone’s calls or texts.”

You sighed. Of course Bakugou wouldn't update anyone. You couldn't help but think bitterly that you might've been in bed by now if Bakugou had answered everyone’s questions beforehand, but you didn't dare voice this aloud. You knew he felt guilty enough as is. “There was an accident during the mission. Certain...circumstances during work-studies meant I was slowly losing my hearing over time, making it harder to hear my team.” Those circumstances being constantly working with Bakugou without any ear protection. Explaining it to someone made the situation feel much more real to you, and you found yourself taking deep breaths and fighting back the burning tears in your eyes as you continued. “I wasn't able to move in time to dodge an explosion, and the blast pretty much took whatever hearing I had left.” Midoriya flinched at this, turning his gaze to Bakugou and narrowing his eyes.

Seeing this, you let out a shaky sigh before speaking aloud. “If it's alright with you all, I’d like to head to bed now. I'm very tired. Midoriya, if you could repeat what I said to everyone I'd really appreciate it.” Then, without giving anyone a chance to respond, you grabbed Bakugou’s hand again and rushed out of the room, heading upstairs to your room. You weren't able to hear how you sounded back there, so you could only hope nobody heard the shakiness of your voice or saw the tears building in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was for them to try and comfort you when you just wanted to be alone with Bakugou.

As soon as the two of you entered your room and the door shut, you let the tears fall from your eyes and pulled Bakugou into a hug. He hugged you back without hesitation, pulling you close. The two of you found your way to your bed, where you laid together in deafening silence for the rest of the night.



“How does it sound?”

The first words you heard clearly in over a week were spoken by Aizawa-sensei, who was sitting in Recovery Girl’s infirmary and observing as you tried on your new hearing aids. The small devices were high quality and incredibly expensive, though the support company that provided your costume had them delivered to you for free. According to Recovery Girl, your hero insurance would've covered much of the cost anyway, but the company appeared to be trying to avoid a lawsuit for not providing your protective equipment in the first place. Regardless, you weren't complaining about getting your hearing back for free.

“It's quiet,” you answered, but a large grin quickly overtook your face. “But I can hear you!” You saw Aizawa-sensei nod in response, a small smile on his face.

Recovery Girl handed him a small device. She was standing more than a few feet away, so she sounded much quieter, but you could just barely hear her. “Use this when you're teaching in class. It will send your voice directly to their hearing aids, so they won't have to worry about falling behind in class.” She made her way over to you, her voice increasing in clarity the closer she got. “As for you, while you're still benched from going on any further missions, those hearing aids will double as comm links when necessary.” She held out her hand, in which she held several small devices. “These microphones are smaller versions of the one I just gave your teacher. They're meant to be given to your teammates working in close range to you, so you can hear them without using the commlink up to a certain distance.” After placing the microphones back in the box with your new support equipment, she gently grabbed your hand. “Things won't quite be the same as they once were, but I know you'll be able to adjust. You’re a strong hero, after all.”

“Hero-in-training,” Aizawa-sensei corrected. “Speaking of which, class will be starting shortly. Are they free to go?”

Recovery Girl nodded, waving her hand dismissively, “Yes, yes, they can go now.”

You beamed, quickly standing up before bowing to Recovery Girl. “Thank you!” You rushed out of the infirmary, running towards class before your homeroom teacher could stop you. You rushed towards the 2-A classroom, throwing open the door before shouting into the room, “They work!”

The screams and shouts that filled the room couldn't have sounded more beautiful to your ears.



It was the first movie night the two of you had since you lost your hearing, and Bakugou wanted it to be special. Through some gentle persuasion, according to him, he'd managed to convince Sero and Kaminari to let the two of you use the common room that night, even though the two of them had already planned to play Mario Kart that night. Though you couldn't quite hear the conversation they had, the looks on their faces told you that the persuasion he used probably wasn't as gentle as he suggested.

But that didn't matter anymore. What mattered to Bakugou was you, cuddled up to his side under the blanket, a smile on your face as you looked at the screen. He had one arm draped over your shoulder while you hugged his torso, and the other hand held the remote. He was scrolling through the streaming service, looking for something that appealed to both of you.

“What about that Peerless Thief movie? Looks like it's finally out, and I heard it got good reviews,” Bakugou suggested, pointing at the screen where the poster was displayed. You shuddered at the sight of the titular villain; despite knowing it was just an actor in costume, he captured the image of the infamous villain with terrifying accuracy.

“No thanks,” you muttered. “I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight, if that's fine with you.”

“Pfft, what? It's not that scary, it's practically a documentary!” Bakugou teases, glancing down at you. You had buried your face in his shoulder, not wanting to look at the poster any longer. “What, you think the Peerless Thief is gonna come get you?”

“I don't know, maybe! They never caught him! For all we know he could still be out there, being a menace under the radar!” you exclaimed, throwing one arm up in exasperation. “Just hearing about him in class is scary enough, I don't wanna see any of that!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, reaching his hand up to ruffle your hair. “All the more reason to watch it, then,” he said. “If you're so worried about him being out there, you can study this and see how he works so we can take him down together.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Right, because two heroes-in-training can take down one of the most infamous villains of all time,” you muttered. Something caught your eye on the screen, and you pointed at it. “What about that one? A Heart That’s Ours to Share? I remember reading that book back in junior high.”

Bakugou looked to where you were pointing and grimaced upon seeing the poster. “Really? A shitty romance? This is what you wanna watch?”

“I know, I know, it looks kinda silly,” you started. “But trust me, it's a lot better than it looks. It ends up being closer to an action-thriller as it goes on. The romance is there, but it's mostly used to drive the rest of the plot forward.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to argue again, but swiftly closed it. He had to remind himself that tonight was about you, and letting you relax. If you wanted to watch some stupid romance, who was he to stop you?

“Tch, whatever,” he grumbled before hitting play. “I'm choosing next time, though.”

You grinned before leaning up to press a peck to his lips. “Thank you, hon! I love you!”

He blushed, letting out a huff. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, dumbass.” He set down the remote, using his now free hand to wrap around you. He pulled you into his lap, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. Arms now resting around your middle, he leaned back into the couch with you and watched the movie play on the screen.

You looked at the screen, an excited grin on your face. As the opening credits ended, however, your smile faded as faint sounds entered your ear. Once you realized it was the dialogue, a frown settled on your face. The TV was outside the optimal range of your hearing aids, and the words spoken by the characters were nearly unintelligible.

“Um, Katsuki?” you mumbled. Upon getting a hum of acknowledgment, you continued. “Could you turn on the captions, please? I can't hear what they're saying.”

Bakugou inhaled sharply, muttering a shit under his breath before quickly reaching for the remote, being careful not to jostle you in the process. As soon as it was in his hands, he turned the captions on and rewound the film to right before the dialogue started.

Now able to understand what was being said, the smile returned to your face. “Thanks, Katsuki!” You leaned your head back to press a kiss to Bakugou’s cheek. Giggling at the blush on his face, you turned back to the screen and leaned back into his chest, relaxing as you focused on the film.

As you watched the movie together, you frequently glanced back to Bakugou at the more exciting or shocking parts to see his reactions. Much to your dismay, each time you looked you saw a deep frown on his face as he stared ahead at the screen. You sighed each time in disappointment and turned back to watch the movie. Maybe he just doesn't like it, you eventually thought. I’ll make it up to him next time, though. The two of you continued to watch in silence before you began to notice something. At some points throughout the movie, Bakugou would randomly tighten his grip on you, pulling you closer to him, only to let you go once you started to shift in his grasp.

Curious, you began to take note of when this would happen. After about three more times of this happening, you noticed it would happen during the more intense, action-packed scenes. And about an hour into the movie, you realized it only happened when an explosion was involved.

Ah, you realized. That’s what this is about.

You quickly reached for the remote and paused the movie. You turned in Bakugou’s lap to face him, eyebrow raised. His eyes were still on the screen for a few seconds before blinking a few times. He shook his head and turned his gaze to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell? I was watching that,” he grumbled. Despite his annoyed tone, he moved his hands to rest on your hips and pull you closer.

“Mhm, sure,” you said. You paused before raising a hand to place on his cheek gently. Letting your thumb stroke his face, you made sure to look him in the eyes as you asked your next question. “Katsuki, you know I don't blame you for what happened, right?” you asked. You immediately knew you hit the nail on the head, as he averted his eyes and his grip on your hips loosened. You saw his lips move as he mumbled something, but the sound didn't reach you. You sighed and shook your head. “You know damn well I can’t hear whatever you just said. What was that?”

“I said, I can't see why you don’t blame me,” he repeated, loud enough for you to hear. “This wouldn't have happened if I'd just...I don't know, listened to you!”

You frowned. “You know...maybe you're right.” At his shocked look, you shrugged. “Maybe if you'd listened to me, we might not be in this situation. Or maybe it might've happened anyway.” You saw his eyebrows furrow, so you continued, “Maybe if the support company provided equipment to protect my ears, I might not have lost any hearing in the first place. Maybe if Endeavor didn't assign us together so often I wouldn't be exposed to your loud explosions so often. Maybe if I'd had the common sense to think that constantly being around explosions might damage my hearing, this could've been prevented. But that's a whole lot of maybes.” You smiled gently at him leaning your forehead against his. “There's probably a lot of ways things could have happened, but they didn't. I’m deaf now, and that's just something I have to deal with. The only thing we can do now is move forward.”

Bakugou looked at you in stunned silence, unable to do anything other than nod. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, and he responded eagerly. Your hands gently cradled his face, while his remained on your hips. After pulling away, you pouted at the frown on his face. “Now, could you smile for me Katsuki?” At your request, an unamused look sat on his face. You giggled, before pressing a peck to his lips. “No need to be grumpy!” Another peck. “I won't stop bothering you until you smile!” Another. “I can do this all night, you know.”

He smirked at that, his grip on your hips tightening. “Who said I wanted you to stop?”

You laughed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before turning back around to your previous position on his lap. “Come on, we’re about to get to the best part of the movie. I’ll kiss you as much as you want when it's over, deal?”

Bakugou leaned his head onto your shoulder, pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Deal.”

[brideofcthulhu10]

Alright orginally I wanted to do these all in one go, but I figured it'd be easier for me to get them in segments that way you guys get more content. Okay heads up, guys I will be going with my family to the zoo tomorrow so I'm not gonna be posting much that day. I'll try to push something out but no guarantees!

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [1/4]

David

Days pushed into weeks. Weeks to months. Finally, months turn to weeks. Now it was to the point David was getting increasingly impatient. While the due date was up for speculation, 9 months began to tip towards ten. Anxious couldn't even begin to cover it. He wanted his child, he wanted to see their face, most of all he wanted you to stop hurting!

Early mornings of you crying from the sheer aching pains in your back sent him into a tizzy, he couldn't get any sleep while you were in agony. He'd lie beside you in the wee hours of the morning flipping through the stupid pregnancy book Dwayne found for him. 

"A late due date is not uncommon. Your baby will come when they're good and ready," David read to himself out loud laying beside you in bed, his face souring into a grimace. Patience was a virtue he had yet to achieve. "I don't want to wait."

With the prospect of childbirth looming over the two of you he had decided since your first trimester to sacrifice his comfort by sleeping beside you. Originally they had simply housed you in Star’s bed, but due to her wretched half-vampire form she would have no risk if the sun were to catch her. David, on the other hand, would quickly burn to a crisp at the first sign of daylight. Thus, he took it upon himself to search his way through the dismantled hotel until he found the most stable room held together between peeling walls and cave formations, tucked away from any prying light. Holes were sealed up, cracks were filled, your bed even had a canopy of thick black curtains covering it to prevent any stray beams that felt welcome.

Laying beside him you only shrugged your shoulders with a soft sigh, running your hands over your stomach. You had just gotten used to this speech by now. David tried everything to help you go into labor. Weird foods, extra long walks, those stupid exercises, even sex! 

Nothing. Your little one was as stubborn as their father. 

"You know color me crazy," you started to say, petting the platinum blonde vampire tenderly ", but I don't think grumbling at a fetus will make them come any faster."

"Shows what you know." David laid the side of his head atop your belly ready to burst. Carefully he peeled away his leather glove, sliding his hand beneath your shirt. Your skin was warm and taut, stretching to its limits. He had watched the time slip away faster than he expected, and yet somehow it felt not fast enough. When he closed his eyes he could hear the muffled, warped heartbeat submerged below. The momentary peace soothed his soul. He could sense their stirring mind. It was muddied, a cluster of emotions, no thought.

The silence gave you a moment to breathe and savor the tender moments with David until a sharp sting pulled at your abdomen. It spread across the base of your stomach, digging into the small of your back and spreading outward. You nearly recoiled from him with a harsh gasp hissed through your teeth. David sat up immediately.

“What is it,” he demanded, taking your hands into his. “Are you okay?”

It only lasted a minute or two and just like that the ache had faded away. Taking a moment to breath you simply smiled and waved it off. "Relax it's just a cramp," you assured him. “It just caught me off guard is all.”

"I'm not so convinced." He pulled himself to your side. "That's the third time it's happened in an hour, love. They’re getting shorter in between. Are you sure you aren’t in any pain, kitten?." 

You kissed his cheek softly, tucking away a lock of snow that had fallen in his face. "I'll be fine. I promise. Don’t worry about me okay? It’s already gone." 

What you weren’t aware of was that you had spoken far too soon. The discomfort persisted even into the daytime, and David's observation was starting to hold some weight. Earlier that night it had only begun as a slow ache that came once every two hours. But that time had split in half. Then again. Until you were feeling a persisting ache in your muscles that left you gasping for air almost every five minutes. In the late hours of the afternoon you softly awoke still wrapped in David’s arms. Again another pain came and went, this time you had to bite down on your lip to avoid any sudden sounds. Slowly you managed to wiggle out of his grip, hoping another blood bag may be enough to curb your discomfort. It wasn’t a surprise when even motion became a taxing endeavor. Every step weighed heavy on your body, you thought you might have to sit down before you had even left the room. Barely shuffling through the corridors, you had begun to use the walls as support.

You clutched at your stomach, dragging in labored breaths trying to catch yourself against the edge of the lobby fountain when you finally stumbled out. It was too much even to move now, and the reality of the situation was settling in. These weren’t your false contractions that visited you maybe once an hour, if that. There was maybe a minute in between them now. With what little strength you had left, you lowered yourself onto the floor. You couldn’t hold back whatever agonized groans that had previously been stifled, clenching your eyes shut. This was definitely a bad decision on your part.  

Your absence was quickly noticed by David. The bed felt lighter, he could sense some sort of difference in weight and with a tired groan he rolled over to reach you... Where were you? 

At first he lazily ran his hand over the sheets, expecting you to only be a few inches from him. When you proved further than he expected, he began rapidly patting around the mattress. His body began to panic when his fingers still failed to find you, then across the cave he heard an echoed whine. That's when he shot up out of bed from his slumber, looking at the empty space where you should've been. "Y/N," he called out, hearing you scream a second time. "Y/N!!" 

In a frantic dash he swung himself over the bed, nearly flying through until an unexpected obstacle had him skidding to a horrified stop. 

You were clinging onto the edge of the fountain just out of his grasp, the cruel sun enveloping you entirely leaving him to cower in the shadows. Paul and Marko had dove from the cave when they overheard you crying, circling through the dark until they saw David diving into the room just as limited against the ring of fire as they were.

“Y/N, hang on,” Paul called, but the moment his fingers touched the light they burst into flames. Immediately he recoiled with a shriek, grasping at his burnt flesh. There was no way they could reach you. Not until the sun went down. Everything began to hurt at once. GThere was a heavy layer of perspiration coating your skin. You hadn’t even realized your water broke until you could hear it. Like someone pouring out a bucket of water, the ground beneath you now soaked. 

David rapidly paced watching you sob alone against the fountain. What should he do? What could he do?? Just like Paul, he began to reach his hand out to touch the light. Of course it caught aflame and he rapidly shook it to dispel any further burn.

“David please, stay back,” you begged, trying to prop yourself against the concrete edge behind you. The sun proved a worthy adversary to you as well, firmly planting you in place with not an ounce of strength to spare between you and the constant contractions. David steeled his resolve, stepping forward towards you. Your words were falling on deaf ears, even Paul and Marko making a mad dash to hold him in place. With every ounce of strength he had, David tore away- right into the sun. 

Within moments the merciless rays lit his back up into a cruel bonfire. You screamed, sobbing and begging him to go back. Instead he fought to lift you into his arms, dragging his feet through hell. You were clinging to his jacket, unable to watch the look of agony he presented until finally he had collapsed with you in tow into the dark. Marko quickly covered the flames with an old tarp draped over the couches, patting it away as fast as possible. The stench of charred flesh made his nose ache, it was foul. 

Even in his weakened state David dragged himself to your side, pushing away your hair from your burning face. It took everything you had to stay still. There was no doctor here to warn you of when it was safe to push. 

With every passing hour it grew more intense. David had no choice but to feel how dilated you had become. To hell with modesty, if you weren’t ready and you tried to push the baby out you’d both die. He’d read enough of those books Dwayne brought to know what to do. Paul held your hand, helping you sit up in place. He swore you might break his hand, and once if was time you began to panic. Both vampires had to keep you firmly in place while your body began to stretch and tear. Dwayne had finally arisen, bringing in an armful of towels and a tub of warm water. At the suggestion he took over, you rapidly shook your head. It was one thing to have David with his hands up there, so instead he was on cleaning duties. Your screams filled the cave, every room vibrating with the unimaginable pain you felt. It was pushing out, all you could do was cry. All four boys were talking you through it. No one could have really prepared you for this. Stories and films always made it seem like the birth could easily take three hours tops. It had been almost the entire day. Thirteen hours from the contractions to now your labor, clinging to every excruciating minute. You felt like you were dying, everything becoming numb… and then you could hear the first sounds. Coughing and sputtering as fluids were thrown up.

All of you were just silent, David’s face in utter awe. Gently Dwayne handed him a towel, scooping up the blood caked infant now wailing in his arms. Tears spilled over his cheeks, wiping away the muck that hid his precious child from him, utterly speechless.

“Oh… shit dude,” Paul finally spoke, causing a breathless laugh from you. Even David chuckled.

“Well c’mon man don’t keep it a secret,” Marko chimed in, trying to get a peek. God, it was so tiny. Dwayne leaned over David’s shoulder at the newborn nestled against his chest.

“..It’s a girl..,” he asked. David’s nod sent a rush of warmth through you, an uncontrollable wave of tears and laughter spilling from you. Still recovering from his own endeavors into the sun, he handed your newborn daughter to Marko, who in turn, placed her in your arms. Her petit fingers grasped at your shirt, whimpering against your chest.

 “She’s… beautiful,” you hiccuped, utterly breathless. You looked over at your burnt partner trying to recover with a blood pack stolen from the fridge, bits of flesh reviving back into healthy skin. When he could finally recover enough to move beside you, he simply pulled you into his arms, softly thanking you over and over for his beautiful little one. She clung to his hand as it ran over her petite head whimpering until he gently cradled her in his arms once more. A sense of relief washed over you, laying against David's chest barely able to catch your breath. Tonight he would go hunting to recover, and for the first time he wouldn't be bringing back blood for you, but for your newborn daughter.

[itsallavengers]

gee i don't want to bother you you can 100% ignore me but it's been a shitty week panic attacks are stronger than ever and some of my friends keep making fun of my anxiety (i downplay the whole thing so it's not really their fault) could you please give me some light hearted stevetony with italian!tony? ily so much youre a blessing for this world keep being yourself

Steve was going to be honest here: he didn’t like the sun.

 Bucky and Natasha would kill him for slandering the current Mediterranean summer weather like that, but it was true. He was an Irishman. His skin was pale and unused to anything above mild temperatures. Not to mention the fact that it was just damn uncomfortable to sit and sweat with no way to cool down all day. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come on this holiday with his two friends at all, actually. He didn’t like the sun, he didn’t really have the money for it, and he was currently acting as the third wheel to what could have just been Bucky & Natasha’s romantic getaway. But Bucky had asked, and said that Steve needed to take a bit of time off, so here he was. 

Sweating. 

It wasn’t so bad, though. While Nat was off looking around in a little local museum and Bucky was trying to sleep off the hangover from last night, Steve was sitting in a quiet cafe, reading his book and sipping on a latte. He was in the shade to prevent burning, and it was early enough in the morning that the heat wasn’t unbearable. It was actually quite nice.

There was also an incredibly beautiful young man sitting on a table a few feet to his right, nibbling a sandwich and working in a scruffy-looking notebook while he shot Steve occasional furtive glances. That was very nice too. 

He looked to be in his early twenties, and clearly native to the town. They hadn’t picked a touristy spot, which was good for the culture, but bad when it came to the language barrier. And the man didn’t sport any of the typical touristy items; instead lounging around in a breezy white cotton shirt with a few buttons undone, tucked into a pair of form-fitting navy slacks and then ending with some expensive-looking loafers. Atop the dark mess of curls were some aviators, and he wore a black ring on his forefinger that contrasted wonderfully against the olive of his skin. The way he held onto his pen made his fingers flex, and occasionally he would run it over his bottom lip in thought, suck it in, frown for a second before he wrote something else down. 

Yes, Steve may have been staring for a long time now. But in his defence, the man was stunning. Steve could admit he was more than a little enthralled. 

He checked his watch briefly, wondering at what point this was going to get weird and he would have to either approach the other man or leave. He could order another coffee, he supposed-- but too much caffeine gave him a headache. Maybe the man was a regular here. Steve might get to see him tomorrow, maybe smile at him or something.

“hai intenzione di stare lì a fissarmi tutto il giorno o vuoi venire qui?”

Steve blinked, watching the man as he pulled the pen from his mouth and then leaned his head backward, apparently speaking to no one in particular. But then his neck rolled, and he looked Steve right in the eye, his mouth curling into a gorgeously cheeky smile. “I take it you do not speak Italian then?”

Oh. Oh, he was talking to Steve. Fuck. Okay. He spluttered a little and then sat up, resisting the urge to push his hair back or smooth out his shirt. He was calm, he was suave. “I...no,” he stumbled, shaking his head, “was that... sorry, were you talking to me?”

The man nodded, slipping sideways on his chair and then leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him. He was slim, but muscular. Steve could see the way his shirt smoothed over strong arms as he hunched. And now he was face on, Steve could truly get a feel for what the man looked like. Sharp jaw. Hair that fell artistically over his perfectly-proportioned face. The most beautiful hazel eyes Steve had ever goddamn seen. 

“I said, are you going to sit there and stare all day or are you planning on coming over?”

Steve realised he was being spoken to only a second after he’d stopped watching the way the man’s mouth formed the words, his accent thick, but his English perfect. Steve should probably respond to that, shouldn’t he. “Well, if it’s all the same with you,” he began, before cracking a smile and then standing up. In a few strides, he was at the man’s table, slipping into the seat opposite. He was in the sun here, but he figured that he could make the sacrifice, just this once. 

There was a second of silence, and then the man turned to face him again. His eyes were alight, shining in the sunlight and mingled with intrigue. “Was that an Irish accent I heard just then?” He asked, and God, even his voice was beautiful. Steve had never thought voices could be beautiful until today. 

He nodded. “It was. Born and raised there ‘til my mam moved us over to America. We don’t fare quite as well in this sun as you though. Hence the shade I was in.”

“Oh. We can move?” The man waved his hand backward, but Steve was quick to shake his head, simply smiling in reassurance. 

“It’s fine. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Ah. I’m Tony.” He smiled and leaned his head into his hands, looking across the table at Steve with that fiery smile of his. His fingers traced idly over his notepad as he eyed Steve, and the writings he’d done were absolutely foreign- not even because they were written in a different language, but because they were all just complex-looking equations and diagrams and things Steve couldn’t even name. He didn’t dwell on them though. There were much more interesting things to be looking at just then. 

Leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm casually across the backrest-- and no, not to flex his muscles like Bucky tried to say whenever he did that--  he let his eyes walk slowly up and down Tony’s body, before stopping for a second at his mouth. The pen was back again. A brief thought crossed his mind, and he swallowed it down hastily. That was most definitely not appropriate for the first conversation. 

But Tony looked like he knew exactly what Steve was thinking anyway, because the smile widened and he took the pen back out from between his teeth again, spinning it in those agile fingers of his. “So tell me- what is an Irishman who doesn’t like the sun doing in Italy right now?” He asked, one eyebrow rising curiously. 

Steve explained the situation easily, talking of Bucky and Nat, the vacation they’d all planned, Steve’s need for a little break. In turn, Tony explained how he’d ended up here, him having come from America too, but much longer ago, back when he was a child and his parents had divorced. He talked emphatically and used his hands when he spoke, and Steve found himself hanging on to every word, Tony managing to make everyday events seem like film-plots. Their conversation came easily, like one would with a long-time friend, and soon Steve realised that a whole hour had passed since he and Tony had begun talking. He blinked in surprise at his watch and then felt the back of his neck. “God, I’m gonna burn,” he muttered to himself, popping his collar up. 

Tony pulled a face, clearly unimpressed by the weakness of his pale skin, but then it turned into a smile as he jumped from his seat and grabbed for Steve’s hand, tugging him upward. “I know how to cool you down,” he said enthusiastically, and Steve found himself being pulled into standing and guided out of the cafe. “How much time do you have?”

Well, Natasha wanted him to join her in the museum about ten minutes ago, so-- “no plans for the day,” he said easily, letting Tony guide them through the winding streets, their bodies brushing and their hands linked together while they navigated the people and market-stalls. Tony greeted locals as he passed them by, the Italian words rolling off his tongue easily. Steve hung on to every word he said, not knowing what he meant, but willing to listen to Tony talking like that for the rest of the goddamn day if he wanted to. It was like music. 

Eventually, Steve realised Tony was leading them to the coastline, and he frowned. “I haven’t bought any swim-trunks with me,” he said warily, but Tony just laughed, turning around and walking backwards while he looked up at Steve. 

“Just wear your boxers, they’ll dry off quickly once you get out!”

“I... I don’t--” but Tony was already leading them down a rickety set of wooden steps, winding down the cliff edge. It was a secluded place, and when they reached the bottom, Steve looked around in awe at the beautiful cove he’d been brought to. There was a small outcrop which slid off straight into the sea, and a few feet onward, a dusting of sand covered by the shade of a tree.

Tony beamed at him. “I come here to do work sometimes. Come, come. The water is lovely.” Without a moment of hesitation, he toed off his loafers and then skidded over the outcrop, where he then started to untuck his shirt from his pants. Steve could only watch, somewhat shocked at the man’s lack of embarrassment, as Tony quickly stripped down into his underwear, finally ending with chucking his sunglasses on top of the messy pile of his clothes. His eyes shone with knowing amusement as he looked over his shoulder at Steve. “My eyes are up here,” he commented, and in mortification, Steve hurriedly dragged his gaze away from Tony’s ass. 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t--” but Tony had already turned back around, stepping off the outcrop and then splashing into the water, being submerged immediately. He came up a second later with a gasp, slicking his curls out of his face with one hand while the other clamped around the outcrop. He swam closer to Steve, who was still stood at the sidelines, a little bamboozled by the recent events. 

“You joining me?” Tony asked, his arms folding on the rocks as he cocked his head at Steve. “I might need-- ah, come se dice.... a water-guard?”

“Lifeguard,” Steve said with a small grin, remembering the conversation he’d had earlier about his part-time job as a pool lifeguard when he’d been a kid in order to afford his first ever car. “And you seem to be doing okay right now.”

Tony hummed, and then very dramatically began to flail around, head dipping under the water. “Oh no!” He declared, “my legs have suddenly stopped working! If only I had someone trained to handle a situation like this to come in and save me!” He sunk below the water again, and Steve rolled his eyes and just tried not to laugh as his hands went to his shirt. 

If Tony didn’t seem to think this was strange, then neither did Steve. 

Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he slid in a little more calmly than Tony had done, bracing himself against the rocks and looking at the other man. Water clung to his skin, making crystal trails, pooling at the dip in his collar-bones. His hair was slicked back, but a piece had fallen into his eyes, and he tucked it behind his ear as he tread the water a few feet away. 

He was right though. It really was lovely and cool. 

Steve smiled, sinking under the surface for a moment in order to wet his hair. He could just about touch the surface, but Tony was considerably smaller than him, so he would have to stick to treading the water. Steve came back up with a gasp and then found himself laughing. “This is not how I imagined my day to go,” he admitted, watching Tony’s face soften. 

Then, slowly, he swam forward, cutting through the water and then settling a hand on Steve’s shoulder softly. It slipped across the damp skin, and Tony watched his own fingers as they trailed across Steve’s pale shoulders. “Me neither,” Tony admitted softly, glancing up at Steve through his thick lashes, “but I’m not going to complain. I met a very hot man and got him out of his clothes in under two hours.”

That made Steve laugh. Never in a million years would he have done this back in America. Not like he even could, really. The Hudson hardly counted as a romantic spot for a swim with the person you’d only met once. But everyone said Europeans were very free-spirited. And from what Steve could see, and, uh, feel, that certainly seemed the case. Tony swam a little closer, his other hand finding Steve’s neck, winding around the side of it delicately and pulling himself in until they were chest to chest. Steve curled his own hand around the other man’s waist, taking a small breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been quite as affected by someone as he was with Tony. Not in his whole life. 

“I want to kiss you,” Tony said, his words lilted with the accent, his skin glittering in the sunlight, and it was so damn strange for Steve to think of the fact that Tony had almost grown up in New York as the heir to a huge business like he’d spoken of earlier, all slick and hard-lined and American. This just seemed like it was where Tony belonged, far more than that life ever would be. 

Steve smiled, their noses touching. His hand rose from the water, the sound tinkling melodically, and he gently took Tony’s chin in his hand, tilting it up a little more. “I want to kiss you too,” he admitted, “I want to do a lot of things, actually.”

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was low, warm, suggestive. “You said you have no plans. I don’t either.” He dipped forward, giving Steve the barest brush of lips before pulling away a fraction again.”You can do whatever you want, tesoro.”

Wow. Those words went straight down south, and Steve swallowed, before dipping down and closing the gap between them hastily. The water swirled around them, Tony draping himself onto Steve as they embraced, and vaguely he realised that this wasn’t a private cove and anyone could walk by if they wanted, but it was still difficult to keep his actions even remotely clean when he had a pretty much naked and willing and wet Tony in his arms, sucking on his bottom lip while his hands worked over Steve’s arms. He tasted like coffee and smelled like apples, and his mouth was a devil, licking into him, nipping and sucking and making little noises when Steve touched him in the right places. It was slow, easy, relaxed. The sun shone through the clear blue sky, lighting up Tony’s face as he leaned back against the rock and shut his eyes happily. Steve wanted to work him over. Wanted to find out what his favourite colour was and how he looked spread out on a bed. Just seeing him like this was driving Steve a little mad. God only knew what would happen when they got home.

He was going to have to do a lot of apologising to Bucky and Nat tonight, because he didn’t think they were going to be seeing anything of him for the rest of the day. 

Or the vacation.

-

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