#i went to bed and missed all the discourse lmao

[hearteyesdiaz]

.

[officialtayley]

God you're far more patient than me, Ash. Like...are anon messages to a Tayley stan blog the best place for discourse, maybe yes maybe no, it's a good conversation to me have but jeeeeez. Always jarring seeing people find ways to excuse and justify themselves not condemning little war crimes lmao.

So, to mix it up a little, please feel free to answer all or some (or simply none of the following haha if you've answered them before or just don't want to):

🪄

1) When did you first become aware of Paramore?

2) When did you first see Paramore live/how many times have you?

3) What other artists/bands do you listen to a lot? Maybe...top 5 (no particular order)

4) Do you have any pets? Talk about them (if you want)

5) What was the last new-to-you film, TV show and book you watched/read?

6) What was your favourite moment from running this blog before their relationship was official? I wasn't here then but reading Kels' archive makes me so jealous of how fun and mad it all seemed whenever a new scrap of content arrived haha.

7) If you woke up tomorrow looking like Hayley and couldn't dye your hair (except to refresh it), which hair era would you want?

8) If you had half an hour with Hayley, what would you want to talk about?

That's all I can think of but hopefully it'll give you SOMETHING different to talk/think about!! 🫡🌻

i was saving this so now i shall answer :) the questions were very fun to answer i loved this so much, thank you!! 🖤

1) 2007! that is how long i have been a fan too :)

2) 27th september 2013. overall i have seen them live 4 times! i also saw halfnoise in 2017 and met zac

3) seventeen, jungkook, iu, eminem, billie eilish. honourable mention to taeyeon tho!

4) i don't have any pets. i had a dog (german shepherd) called sam, we had him before i was born so when i came along he was super protective, when i was baby he was always by my crib and stuff and as i was growing up if i needed help when walking or walking down the stairs at our back door (they had no railing) he'd always stand by my side so i could hold him, and then as i grew up too he always slept in my room or on my bed. he passed though in 2005 or 2006? so sad i miss him he was the best. i had another dog after that (yorkshire terrier) and i called him marmite but he was too hyperactive and aggressive so we ended up having to give him to a friend.

5) um..... i don't know. i watched barbie but that was new to everyone. vincenzo (kdrama) is the only thing that comes to mind since i only got into kdramas last year and it came out in 2021. some other things, not new to me but hey i wanna share, little women (kdrama), extraordinary attorney woo (kdrama) and a business proposal (kdrama), the first two were so incredible, the last one was silly but it was a fun time.

6) my fave moment.... the date at the gallery in oct 2018. also LA nov 2018. it was a party over here it was so fun each time. obvs they were dating then but majority of the fanbase still hating tayley shippers and that's what tayley were up to..... incredible time.

7) self titled. granted her personal life was a mess but she went thru 2726267227 hair styles and colours and i think it would be fun

8) hm.... well id like to tell her about finding paramore in 2007 during the literal worst year is my whole life and how it really helped me as a 10 year have something to turn to when i was going through something very traumatic. id also like to pick her brain over some lyrics on ffv so i can understand them properly finally, and hm..... idk what else

[blogfullofemos]

Lonely is a Man Without Love

(Thank you sssooo much guys for the many receptive love I've been given. Truly appreciate the time you guys took out of your day. Here's the next part. @later-gators12 enjoy my friend 😌.)

Warnings: We got some blood but other than that, nothing bad. A little action ain't hurt nobody.

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader, original character x fem!character.

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Steven just loves to pull on your heart strings huh? How can you keep your cool... Also Steven fighting... Please help Marc.

Writer Notes: I know I squish the words together when Marisol talks, but being hispanic myself, you know exactly what I mean lmao.

    The thin white drapes of your small motel casted a dreary hue within it’s British-inspired walls. London’s thunderous storm adding more to its depressive pull. You sit at one of the corner-ends to the twin-size bed as a small antique radio quietly plays news static. Next to it rested Athena standing with pride as her sword pierced the stone beneath her, a torn piece of paper covering her face. Steven’s big shaky handwriting of his phone number written sloppily against the lines. You stare as a small smile crept up, reminiscing the many reintroductions of Steven Grant as the days passed. The way his face gotten redder and redder as you both shared a passionate discourse of Greek Gods & Goddesses, the many big smiles he gave as you explained your side to its history. “I’m sorry madam, but the shop is now closing.” the female cashier informs you with a courteous smile. Piercing Steven with a highly annoyed side eye as she walked off, pissed about cleaning up the shop’s mess, especially Steven’s. Steven giving her a sympathetic crooked smile, he brings his attention back to you, “I’m sorry (Y/N), I’m going to go help Frances clean up shop. It was really amazing meeting you. Goodbye for now.” he says as he quickly follows behind the seething Frances.

     Your heart couldn’t help but flip at his courteous moments, rather rare to see in such a man. But the further he went, the more your mind screamed “GET HIS NUMBER YOU CLOWN!!”.

“Wait!!” you yelled unexpectedly, causing them both to turn to you. Steven with bewilderment and Frances with “Now what’s wrong with her?” look. You didn’t have to yell, well you didn’t mean to honestly, your face burned up with embarrassment. “Um, can I get your number?” you ask lowly, your head instinctively going down to hide your vulnerability.

“What was that beautiful?” he asks walking back towards you, his ears not picking up the words at all. Your face smoldering more by his compliment, you hated this. You hated this so much. You force yourself to look up at him, exposing a beet red face to Steven making his blush look rather fake “I said can I have your number?” you repeat with clenched fist. God why did this hurt so much? Steven bites his bottom lip as he tries to contain a foolish smile, digging his hands in his pants pockets. He pulls out a crumpled piece of loose-leaf paper and quickly ripped the top corner of it. Thanking the heavens that he’s a tour guide to nothing but toddlers. 

     “Hey Frances, you got a pen?.. Marker?.. Anything to write with?” he asks as he realizes he’s missing the most important part of this ordeal.

M: Now how are you a teacher without a pen? We gotta do better Steven…

Steven ignores Marc’s sly comment as Frances intentionally slams a marker in his hand, rolling her eyes as she walks away. Steven places the small, ripped piece of paper on the window and quickly writes numbers with dashes on its crumpled surface. Once he finishes, he hands it to you, a smile never leaving him. “Don’t lose it now.” he says shyly.

     You bite your bottom lip as your mouth instinctually pulls upward. He probably thinks you lost it by now, but today you’ll find your way back to him. Suddenly your phone lights up as it vibrates harshly next to Athena, the screen showing: Marisol. You get off the bed and take your phone of the dresser’s wooden surface, swiping to pick up the call from your best friend. “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail box of 100% that bit-.” you say in monotone, trying to steady your breathing from laughing.

“Shut the fuck up bitch.” Marisol’s spanish accent laugh out making you laugh “You almost got me.” she finishes. You sit back down and twirl your fingers around the thin blanket, your eyes wandering back to Steven’s number. “So when were you going to tell me?” Marisol asks with fake hurt.

“Mari, you know this is part of my job description.” you sigh, “You think I want to keep leaving you behind.” you say as you plop your back down on the uncomfortably firm bed, affirming the most hated part of your job. Resting the back of your hand on your forehead, you stare at the speckled ceiling weighing the pros and cons of being with Steven. “I know, BUT PARIS!!” she elates.

“It’s not Paris, speci-.” you try to retort but Marisol’s excitement cuts you off.

“You better send me pictures or something more, you know, I wouldn’t mind a little piece of Paris in my mundane life.” she theatrically emphasizes mundane, making you chuckle at her guilt trapping words. 

“I’ll see what I can do. But for the time being, I must prepare. Luckily I’ve gotten a break since I’ve landed, but I know I’m going to be assigned for something soon. Anywayyy how’s everything back home?”.

“Girl…” you can feel Marisol’s classic eye roll from your small talk.

“What?” you laugh already knowing the answer.

     “You know you’re the only eventful person I have in my life. When I’m bored, I run to you, so how do you think everything is going?” she says sarcastically.

“Pretty relaxing.”

“BITCH ITS BEEN DEAD!! Jariel has been cooped up in our home office because of work, and between you&me I haven’t gotten any for a minute. OH!! Your mama is doing well and toldmetotellyou to call her when you can. Also Gobbles is giving me a headache.” she growls as you hear Gobbles the pug do his screech, never learning how to bark like a normal dog. You hear his nails scatter about through the receiver. You giggle as you roll around the bed and kick your feet up, Steven’s bashful face floating around your mind. If your cellphone had a cord, you’ll definitely be twirling it around your fingers right about now. You cuss at yourself mentally as you see the start of a love dopamine rush. Snapping yourself out of its addictive pull. “Marisol… It happened again.” you hint, losing the fight with yourself.

“What.” she quietly exclaims, her excitement muted.

“Sooo there’s this guyyy.” you drawl, dropping your hopeless romantic face into the bed.

“OMG, TELL ME EVERYTHING AMIGA!!” she screeches like when you guys saw your favorite boy band appear on stage. You gave her the rundown of Steven, exaggerating some details and getting giddy with others. You finally finish with rushed breathing as you laid on your back again, exhausted from rolling around the bed as you gush. Yeah, Steven’s made an impression that was hard to scratch away. “(Y/N) put that number on your phone and stop being a baby. You know I don’t get you someti-.” Marisol says but your focus gets ripped away by a loud beeping sound inside the top dresser drawer. 

     “Mari, I’ll call you back.” you end the conversation, as your body’s temperature drops in seconds. Hanging up, you get off the bed and toss your phone on it. You open the empty drawer and retrieve the beeping burner phone, flipping it open “Hello.” You say cautiously.

“They still have you on their radar, keep moving. We’ve created you a new identity card and we’ll drone it to your location. It might take months before they’ll cool off, be careful with your side endeavors. God bless, be safe Niner.” The call drops, vanishing into its technological ether. Your heart races as you cuss silently, slight paranoia creeping into your mindscape as your eyes frantically assess your surroundings. You toss the burner phone on the dresser’s hard surface as you take a deep breath in, gripping the side of it with white knuckles. You look at Athena once more as cold sweat quickly builds up within you. 

Meanwhile…

     Steven slams the human-like cougar into London’s-soaked asphalt alley, simultaneously the cougar demon grabs his tie causing Steven to fall by the force of his. Landing on top of the cougar-man.

M: And this is why we don’t wear ties in a gunfight Steven.

Steven rolls around with the cougar demon, throwing punches, some connecting, most hitting back the pelting raindrops. As Steven ends up on top of the demon again, he wails at the cougar’s face, but for some reason it doesn’t seem to affect the demon as it did past ones. “Marc this is-.” but Steven is interrupted by the demon gripping his head. Headbutting Steven with the force of a jet. “GuS, is ThAt YoU?” he says dazed, as the demon hits him with another one; knocking Steven back on the ground. The demon stalks its body back up as it purrs seeing Steven’s unconscious masked face seeping slowly with blood coming out his nose. Suddenly white fabric snakes around the demon from behind, before the demon has time to react the tough fabric tightens. In seconds the demon collapses as its head pops off from its body, turning into rain-soaked soot. Khonshu’s God-like silhouette looking down at the irradicated demon’s dust, thunder lighting up the cloudy day above. Khonshu kneels and swipes his gloved hand in the soot, investigating it as he circles it around his fingers. “He’s back.” he summarizes. 

     Khonshu stands back up and walks toward the still unconscious Steven, watching as Steven’s costume dissipates as his feet stops by his shoulders. Steven grunts as Khonshu taps the end of his moon staff on his cheek. “Steven.” Khonshu says displeased continuing his incessant staff taps.

“No Gus… It’s not for you to eat.” Steven mumbles with a snore, still lost in his sleep as he slaps the staff.

“STEVEN!!” Khonshu booms causing Steven to sit up quickly as he wakes up shouting Marc’s name. Steven frantically searches around him, calming as he sees Khonshu’s bird-skull face looking down at him. “Is it gone?” Steven smiles with a bloody mouth, one of his front teeth chipped ever so slightly. A slanted gash on his nose, as his left eye swells and darkens ever so slightly. Khonshu walks away from him and disappear, but not until he smacked Steven on the back of his head. “OWA!!” Steven exclaims as he tries to rub the pain away.

“Let Marc handle the hands next time.” Khonshu’s voice echoes throughout the thunderous rain.

M: I try to tell him Khonshu, but nooo Steven’s name is with a V.

“Piss off.” Steven retorts as he slumps his body, trying to regain strength in his sore muscles. He lets the rain pelt his bruised body, as he tries to get a grasp of the demon he fought minutes ago. Usually the demon’s weren’t hard to kill, even though Steven panic-quit mid fight most of them. Marc always having to take the brunt of it. But once in a blue, they would be blindsided by how they killed their opponents. But this demon, this demon wasn’t easy to even shake. A sound of wind chimes breaks his thinking, as his phone vibrates in his shirt pocket. 

     He hisses in pain as his head aches from the sound, pulling the phone out and swiping the screen. An unknown number texting him.

You: Hey Steven it’s me (Y/N). I’m free today if you want to continue our fast chat. 

You: Last* 😅

Steven forgets everything that happened prior as a huge smile dance across his beaten face. His fingers quickly tapping against the wet screen, like his heart.

Steven: I would love to (Y/N). Give me 2 hours tops, and I’ll be ready.

M: Steven let me front. 

Steven finally gets off the ground with a grunt as he feels his muscles stretch out the pain. “No Marc, she doesn’t even know us yet. Plus this is-.” he’s cut off by another notification sound. 

You: Okay… Where do you want to go since I’m new to these parts of town. 🤠

Steven chuckles at your corny text, limping as he walks blindly to his flat.

Steven: Wow you’re putting my tour guiding skills to good use already. But how about a café. I know one that serves great tea with the best bakery goods any man would die for.

Steven: Okay I might’ve over done that last one, but like

Steven: I would die for it

Steven: Not really though

Steven: Okay that might’ve been a lie… 😅

M: You’re doing too much with the texting Steven. 5 messages in 25 seconds… Not a good look.

“I’m sorry Marc, that I’m excited about this. I haven’t had a proper date since….” he drawls as his face falls a little remembering Layla, “You know.” he finishes. He looks around London’s streets as he checks the address signs, seeing that his flat is not too far from here. 

       His phone chimes again and he physically gasps in disgust at your text.

You: So Starbucks it is.

Steven: 😐🤢🤮😥 How could you….

You: What? I could go for a cold brew right about now.

Steven: 🤧 Please no more…

You: And those cheese danishes…. Warmed up…. A gift from the Heavens.. 🙏

Steven lets out an ashamed wail, making passerby’s even more uncomfortable near him. “Marc she’s been corrupted.” he exaggerates his shame to a random stranger.

“My names not Marc.” the Irish man says defensively, ramming his shoulder into Steven’s as he walks off. Causing Steven to mumble “Sorry mate.”, as the force of the shoulder bump made him spin around and walk backwards.

M: Steven let’s get to the flat before you start any more unnecessary issues. We have a date at 5 sharp and looking at you…. We need to hurry.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I really doubt Taehyun would kill oc. He says he would and based on his moral standards it would make sense. But he also said she was free and that he would let her go whenever she wanted to if she wanted to... and then when she said wanted out he clinged like hell and did not accept her wish. He kept that "I'm not begging you to stay. If you do it's on you." discourse for as long as he felt confident that she would stay, or as long as he was able to maintain the facade of confidence, but as soon as he took off his ego mask she showed some cute vulnerable stuff but also started throwing tantrums and saying anything and everything to convince her to stay. He is not so sure of himself as he tries to sell himself to be. He would bend and break the same way he has before.

About Kai and Wonyoung being an item. I feel like it wouldn't really have a lot of long term potential for family rivalry reasons. But while she was at the castle? They both pretty, they both single, they both stressed, they both had the same momentary goal of getting oc out of there, they both had life experiences in common that probably no one else could relate to, they were staying at the same place for a while with nothing better to do... so why not? Very convenient. Like medieval version of a summer fling. Cute shit.

Oh, and as much as I am team Gyu I kinda want to see one more Taehyun smut scene. Just because in all of his smut scenes he was still pretty basic and formulaic (which make sense for both his persona and the general climate in the relationship at the time) in bed. I wish we could have one last desperate fuck where he just let go and let pour out every hidden kink he was too ashamed of acting out with her before. I don't know... I just feel like they never went past "I man, you woman, my stick, your hole, my pleasure, cum out, baby in (failed), optional bonus blowblow".

Or... we could have Beomgyu hold Taehyun prisoner at one point somehow and force Taehyun to watch him pleasure oc ~properly~. Imagine the utter shame and disgrace that Tyun's moralistic ass would feel if he came untouched on his pants, while chained to a wall, from watching his wife go wild for another man's dick. Oooh that would look interesting. Let them tease him for it and make him beg and confess his fantasies and shameful thoughts while drowning in tears, over the fake promise of them offering him release.

I am on a mean mood today. Emotions temporarilly turned off I guess. Keep feeding me, please.

~♡anon

i would say that it's a bit different now because she's his wife and can't just leave but yes you make an important point about how he chose to go about it. he wasn't like "fine go but know that you will be punished for it" no he broke down and clung onto her. but again with someone like taehyun that instability could be dangerous. he may seek to kill her so he can prove to himself that he doesn't care, the same way he did with jaeyun and kai. he feels not in control rn and he feels like he was made a fool of so he may retaliate harshly

exactly! the kai and wony thing is a background thing at most. yeah it probably serves no plot purpose and could be taken out without causing any issue but like it makes sense if this was real life.

honestly i'm not sure tyun even HAS kinks lmao boy is hella repressed and doesn't really allow himself to think of those things, but maybe i did miss out on giving them a desperate, emotional fuck :') i just wanted to get the chapter out and wasn't ready to write a whole proper smut scene for them lmao

fuuuuuck that idea is so sexy and I could technically do it and gyu is definitely petty enough to do it but idk man that would crush tyun even more and boy has already suffered so much 😭 but like the idea of tyun getting to see how oc wanted to be treated and how he missed out on it because he was so stubborn and prideful and then having to contend with the fact that this actually turned him on and he wanted to cum even though morally and logically he hates it so much 😭

i'll try to keep feeding you babe and i hope you feel even a tiny bit better ❤️

[quiet-onset]

In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure. 

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself. 

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window. 

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun. 

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind. 

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.” 

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost. 

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.” 

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon. 

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone. 

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up. 

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other. 

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces. 

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had  no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded. 

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen. 

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you. 

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless. 

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only. 

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower. 

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up. 

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday. 

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him. 

And received no answer. 

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery. 

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat. 

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table. 

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say. 

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you. 

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad. 

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy. 

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. 

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp. 

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could. 

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[hunky-punk]

Do all of the ones for the obscure asks!

hell yeah hell yeah

what’s your favorite way to dress? comfortable and gay

if you could change anything about yourself, what would it be? like everything from the shoulders down tbh

what movie/game/etc. helps you calm down? Stardew Valley, Dragon Age, Shovel Knight , and Fallout!

what does your room smell like? tbh i have no clue, probably scent packets that i keep in my drawers

do you like to organize? In my own way ig? my shits organized chaos

what kind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one? Id disintegrate if I had to choose only one genre of music to listen to

what song is your aesthetic? oh fuck get READY i have a shitload               This, this, this, this, this, and this, definitely not an exhaustive list

what color do you think goes best with your personality? all of them yo im gay as hell reds blues and greens

do you believe in auras? sort of, i dont really incorporate that belief into anything though

what do you wish you hated, but actually like? nothing i love that i love everything unironically 

vague about your crush(es) fuck idk if its really a crush per se but god theyre absolutely pretty as all hell and tbh if they ever needed a cute bed warmer id be First In Line

is there someone you have mixed feelings towards? too many people to count tbh 

talk about an au or story you came up with fuck uhhh i had a werecat character i made a shitty story for a while back but it never really went anywhere

do you like makeup? I considered using makeup to make my face look more masculine once, might revisit that idea

do you prefer space or the ocean? both are equally terrifying but i prefer the ocean

if you could pick any planet besides earth, where would you live? Uranus 😘 

what form of government do you like the most? (capitalism, socialism, etc.) socialism yo

what animal would you keep as a pet, if you could? hedgehogs are perfect and i love each and every one of them 

what do you think our purpose is in the universe? sure as hell aint what we’re doing now, but I dont think about it much 

do you believe in god(s)? I dunno, i believe there might be gods, but i choose not to worship them

is there a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it? Wrabel’s The Villiage 

what ex do you miss the most, if you have one? i dont really miss either tbh 

do you like soft, fluffy blankets or rough/smooth blankets? both

what is your favorite thing to learn about? animals, plants, nd food

what country’s history do you find the most interesting? i dunno, i cant remember much from any country off the top of my head

what do you think about genderbent ____ (insert someone here) genderbends kinda irk me a little

what breakup was the hardest, if you had one? my first ex was a bastard trying to leave him fucked me up hard

do you have someone where you can’t decide if you like them romantically or just as a friend? 🤫

what do you think about tumblr discourse? some of it is hilarious, most of it is kind of annoying

what instrument do you wish you could master? guitar

how easy is it for you to be honest? pretty easy, depends on who im talkin to tho, and my current circumstances

do you have any strange interests? Im WAY into vulture culture tbh, love me some bones

do you have any strange fears? my pants ripping in public and me not knowing about it, everyone secretly being a mind reader

what food do you binge on when you’re lazy? like everything lmao but mostly cereal and ramen

when you get angry, how do you show it? i just start fuckin bawling and yelling

do you have any impulsive movements? (twitches, ticks, flapping, etc.) i bounce my legs all the time, and i crack my knuckles a lot

what do you listen to music on? spotify mostly sometimes youtube

are you left brained or right brained? im no brained as fuck

earbuds or headphones? earbuds

do you like light blankets or heavy blankets? depends on the temperature