#or raise the rent randomly so i can’t afford it

[francisforever2014]

having to worry about housing for next year despite thinking that i had it all sorted and i don’t even feel like i’m gonna throw up at all i’m actually completely normal

[pparkersz]

and they were roommates | p.p [1/5]

summary: Ned’s really good friend Y/N is being evicted from her apartment and is in desperate need of somewhere to stay. When Ned finds out about her dilemma, he proposes to Peter they let her move in, and despite his hesitance, he agrees. Y/N gladly accepts Ned’s offer but upon moving in realizes that her new roommate Peter Parker was hiding something. A Spider-man Roommate/College AU. (masterlist)

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, aged up! peter parker & co.

a/n: hi everyone! i’ve fallen into the hole of p.p x reader fics and am inspired to start a new blog dedicated to fic writing. i’m excited to share this short series with you all. please feel free to send in any one-shot requests. :)

Y/N was in trouble.

With a groan, you let your head drop with a hard thump on the wooden table.

It wasn’t the kind of trouble most people would expect from a college student like forgetting to turn in an assignment before a deadline or sleeping in, and missing class one too many times.

No--this was the kind of trouble that your mother warned you might run into when you decided you were tired of living in the cramped dorms of Colombia University and that you wanted to move into an overpriced and even more cramped apartment with a flakey roommate.

Aria, said flakey roommate, decided last month that she no longer was interested in living with Y/N you had spent the last few weeks desperately posting ads on Craigslist and the campus bulletin board for a new roommate.

Just as you’d imagined, most people that replied on Craigslist were creeps and the few from school that responded to your poster decided last minute that the apartment was not to their tastes.

Despite working many, long hours at the closest family-owned café Bugle Beans for the last three years of your college life, Y/N did not have the money to pay rent and utilities on her own.

Your landlord had tried to be understanding but he’d been kind for long enough.

“I warned you that we don’t give extensions, kid,” he’d sighed to you earlier that morning. “I’m giving you a week to move out or you’ll find all your things outside.”

“I’m fucked,” you sighed into your hands. “I’m so fucked.”

“Like fucked fucked?” A teasingly inquisitive voice suddenly came from your right, startling you out of your miserable stupor. “Or I’m going to possibly fail out of a class and hurt my GPA fucked fucked?”

You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the genuine, small smile that crossed your face. “More like I’m going to be homeless in a week fucked.”

Ned Leeds, your only confidant on this huge campus took a seat across from you, gaze switching from teasing to concerned. “Y/N, what the hell?”

You bit your lip, lowering your hand to rest on your crossed arms. “I still haven’t found anyone to replace Aria and I can’t afford rent. My landlord’s giving me a week to pay up or get out.”

Ned winced beside you, patting your arm comfortingly. “Yeah, the city landlords are ruthless, and trying to find a roommate that’s not a psycho is even worse. I’m sorry.”

You blew out another sigh. “Don’t I know--”

“Y/N!” You jumped at the sound of Ned’s suddenly excited voice. “I have an idea!”

“Do tell.”

“Peter’s ex-girlfriend MJ moved out from our loft a few months ago and we’d been meaning to find a third roommate for a while now. It hasn’t really been a priority but it’s about time we try to find someone.” Ned’s brown eyes were shining excitedly as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “We need a roommate, you need a place. What do you say?”

For the first time in a month, you felt a small burst of hope in bloom in your chest.

“Ned, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, kid.”

“Ned Leeds,” you almost sobbed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I owe you all the free coffee and cookies in the world.”

Ned snickered, rubbing your back softly. “I’d have to talk to Peter but I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You pulled away and gave him a watery grin. “Let me know as soon as you can, please.”

“I’ve got you, friend,” he winked, getting up from the spot next to you. “I’ll text you tonight. You better start packing.”

___________________________________________________________________

“I just don’t think it’s wise right now, Ned.”

Peter Parker repeated this to his best friend for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.

“Peter, she’s the best, I promise--”

“I’m sure she’s lovely,” the brown-haired young man interrupted, putting down his highlighter and looking away from his notes. “It’s just--with the whole Spider-man thing I don’t think it’s a good idea to have someone new here, man.”

At Ned’s crestfallen expression, he felt a sliver of guilt creep up.

It wasn’t necessarily that he had something against Y/N. He’d met her briefly a few times and Ned always spoke highly of her since they’d been randomly partnered for a project their freshman year.

“Pete,” Ned’s voice was desperate. “She got evicted from her apartment and has a week to come up with almost two grand or find somewhere to live. She doesn’t have many friends in the city. She needs us.”

Peter swallowed hard before releasing a sign. He couldn’t argue with Ned about that and his own conscience wouldn’t let him rest if he knew that someone was potentially going to be left homeless.

But he was hesitant.

He’d gotten used to not having to hide to anyone his superhero persona and the thought of having to be careful around someone new in his own home was not appealing to him.

When MJ moved out, he and Ned had decided they would eventually find a new roommate but there was no rush. Mr. Stark had kindly left a nice fund for Peter that helped them out with rent for a while and they’d fallen into a nice routine just the two of them with MJ occasionally coming over for movie night.

He and MJ were still good friends, having parted on good terms, so she was still around often.

He supposed though that they’d just be crossing the bridge he’d been much too comfortable to cross a lot sooner than he wanted.

Clearing his throat Peter gave Ned a nod. “Let her know the empty room’s hers if she wants it.”

Ned let out a breath of relief, giving Peter a grin. “You’re the best Pete. I promise I’ll help with covering for you if it comes down to it.”

Peter shook his head with a smile of his own, punching Ned lightly in the arm. “I’m counting on it, Ned. It’ll be like old times.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked up a good story, eh?” Ned snickered as he remembered the various times he’d have to come up with excuses for Peter’s absences, suspicious behavior, and abnormal disappearances. He reached for his phone immediately opening up his messages. “I can’t wait to tell, Y/N.”

“Let her know I’d be happy to help her with moving in.” Peter offered quietly, turning back to his notes.

“Will do. “ Ned responded distractedly, typing away rapidly on his iPhone.

Peter raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it in thought. He didn’t like to call it his tingle, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t telling him that this might just be a bad idea.

[foster-the-world]

To (try to) sell or not to sell?

Skip past this post if real estate doesn’t interest you or talking about money issues is not for you. 

My mind is spinning which makes me want to ask everyone and their brother their opinion. So I am asking for your opinion.  Caveat: these are the ramblings of a lucky person. I know this is a great “problem” to solve no matter what we decide. 

We live in NYC - where we can’t afford to buy but luckily have a rent stabilized apartment. It’s not fancy but compared to most NYC places it’s big enough. 

Three years ago we bought a house in Upstate NY. The idea was to rent it out to weekenders while enjoying it ourselves sometimes. We thought/hoped we could mostly cover our costs (taxes, mortgage, etc) and give our kids some space to run, grass, etc. So far, it’s worked out really well. When the pandemic hit we went up there and enjoyed the space. We had planned to buy a three bedroom but ended up with a very large house. At the time we bought this house the area was relatively cheap. This house was the high end of our budget but we assumed we could make the cash up by renting to big groups. We’ve done fairly well renting it out. The last year the occupancy rate has sky rocketed because everyone from NYC is dying to get out but couldn’t fly, go long distances. 

In this area, like so many, everyone is buying houses like crazy. NYC people want a place to escape to. The housing stock is limited - especially with renovated homes. Plus, the area where our home is is very quickly being developed. All of the NYC lookalike restaurants, etc have arrived and are continuing to come. 

The plan was to keep the house for a long time. 

Now our realtor tells us she would probably list it for more than double what we paid. I was skeptical but I’ve talked to a few other people that said it sounds about right. That being said the price she mentioned is very high for the area so she may still be wrong.   

So while we didn’t have a desire to sell we are now thinking about it. 

Pros of selling: The cash that would give us a nice size cushion. It would pay for nursing school, get us through the next few years without my salary + if we weren’t stupid could be helpful for a while. It won’t make us rich by local standards but for someone who was raised without much money it would be a lot. While we 100% love the house its not without work/stress. We sometimes randomly receive request to fix things from the guest. We have to stop whatever we are doing and make it happen. The house is fully updated but the general upkeep is timing consuming. There is always another expense and we can’t go cheap on things because of the rental guests. There is always a little bit of fear that we will get hit with a really large bill. Plus, if this is just a housing bubble the price could go even lower than what we paid. Our taxes are high and they keep going up. I’m a card carrying Democrat so I can’t complain too much about taxes but it be nice not to have them anymore. Now seems like a good time to be a seller. Lots of all cash offers with no inspection, bidding wars, etc. 

Cons of selling: We love our house. It’s unique and we won’t be able to get anything similar. The women before us was a designer by trade so it has a lot of nice touches. The town we are in is perfect for us. We like the neighbors, etc. While we hadn’t meant to get something so big it has been wonderful. We have big groups of friends and family come. The kids love, love, love going. Just thinking about telling them makes me sad. Baby boy hasn’t really even gotten a chance to enjoy it. I’ve had long term dreams of them growing up there. We lose all rental income - which over a longer period could add up to a nice sum. I feel happy in the house (when not doing chores). From a brief reading it looks like we’d pay Capital Gains tax. We could try to use the cash to buy another cheaper place outright but I don’t think we have the energy for that. Plus, as mentioned the housing stock is not there. 

Of the people I’ve talked to the consensus seems split on whether or not these costs increases are going to continue or if the bubble will burst. 

So what should we do? Any guesses on whether these housing prices will last? If we had a glass ball and someone told me we’d be able to sell it for the same amount or somewhat less in a few years we’d def hang on to it. However, if that glass ball said the bubble is going to burst and you’ll never get near close to this amount of money we’d regret not selling. So what do we do? Anyone have a glass ball? Anyone actually read through this long long strain of my thoughts?

[ggukcangetit]

Tomorrow: Jungkook x Reader

**

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff. Grad student au!; grad student! jungkook; grad student! reader; grad student! bts

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Suggestive language, mild kissing. Not much else really.

Summary: At the beginning of your third year of your PhD program, you didn’t expect many changes. Until the new PhD cohort started classes, and Jeon Jungkook became part of your group of friends.

A/N: i just wrote this randomly with zero plot in mind. idk what this ended up becoming but read it and lemme know if you like it? 

“Choi is a madwoman. I swear she makes me do so many lit reviews just to see me suffer.” Park Jimin, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at HopeWorld dance studio, and is currently regretting many of his life choices.

“I told you not to say yes to every single project that came your way.” Min Yoongi, 4th year PhD student, weekend DJ at Club Moonlight, recipient of the university’s most prestigious research grant, currently lives in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“We’re older. Which means we have more experience. Which means we tend to be right more often.” Kim Seokjin, another 4th year PhD student, enrolled into the PhD program after realising that the completion of his MBA meant he would have to join the family business, amateur chef with professional sass, and sole reason behind Min Yoongi being able to afford living in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“Not when you bet Tae he couldn’t finish grading Kang’s first year Intro class papers in 24 hours.” Jung Hoseok, 3rd year PhD student, simultaneously working on a second Master’s degree, also happens to run HopeWorld dance studio during his oodles of free time.

“Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to treat us if you lost the bet, Seokjin?” Kim Namjoon, 3rd year PhD student, plant dad, head of the graduate student council, and all-around overachiever.

“Tae was supposed to choose the place. Did you decide on which exorbitantly expensive restaurant Seokjin is going to take us to, Tae?” Y/L/N Y/N, 3rd year PhD student, roommates with Namjoon and Hoseok, addicted to bubble tea.

“I have a better plan. The incoming first year PhDs are supposed to have their orientation tomorrow. I think Seokjin should organise a mixer to welcome them.” Kim Taehyung, aforementioned ‘Tae’, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at the local art gallery, roommates with Park Jimin, deceptively fast at grading papers.

“I do not remember agreeing to that,” said Seokjin, with a frown, shutting his laptop with a definitive snap.

“Come on, it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Yoongi remarked, not having looked up from the large stack of papers in front of him. “If you can insist on paying 3/4ths of the ridiculously high rent of our apartment even though we could have moved into the perfectly reasonable priced place 20 minutes away from the lab, you can damn well afford to host a mixer for the incoming cohort.”

“20 minutes by car. It takes 45 minutes to walk there, Yoongi. Or do I need to remind you of the fact that only Y/N and Sooyoung own cars in our department?” scoffed Seokjin.

“Do I hear trouble in paradise? Have Yoongi and Seokjin finally had their first fight after years of marital bliss?” Lim Sooyoung, 4th year PhD student, part-time yoga instructor, full-time reluctant designated driver due to being the only other PhD student in the department with a car. 

“Hilarious,” grumbled Seokjin. “That joke is about as old as the milk carton at the bottom of Namjoon’s fridge.”

“That’s still there?” asked Hoseok, scandalised. “You told me you threw that out 4 months ago!”

“It’s a limited edition Blue Bean milk carton! I couldn’t throw it out, Hobi,” replied Namjoon, sheepishly. The use of Hoseok’s nickname meant that he had run out of logical arguments against throwing out the milk carton that had been purchased three months into their first year of doctoral studies. 

“Have you ever considered emptying out the contents and keeping just the carton?” you asked. This suggestion was met with the raising of an eyebrow and the throwing of an airpod by Namjoon. Unfortunately, this also meant that the airpod didn’t reach its intended target.

“Ow!” exclaimed Hoseok, rubbing the side of his face where the airpod had made contact. “This is why you’ve been through 33 pairs of airpods in the last year, Namjoon! You have dormant violent tendencies and terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“Now back to that mixer,” said Taehyung, turning towards Seokjin. “I’m thinking around 5 pm at the Underground should be good. What do you think?”

“Fine,” sighed Seokjin, reluctantly. “I’ll send a message on Slack. Who’s got the first years’ contact info?”

xxx

The next day, you found yourself struggling to find parking outside the Underground, despite it being 4.30 pm on a Tuesday. Namjoon and Hoseok were sitting at the back and discussing ways in which they could watch as many of the student films that were being shown over the weekend, while Taehyung sat shotgun and muttered to himself as he tried to destroy some kind of adversary on that godforsaken game that he always seemed to play. You whipped out your phone and started texting Sooyoung about whether she had found any parking.

SY: just parked… sending you the location… its behind the club

SY: is seokjin with you

Y/N: thanks!

Y/N: no i’ve got tae joon n hobi 

SY: ok… wonder how he’s getting here… yoongi’s with me… said seokjin left a while back

Y/N: idk… sure he found something… uber or lyft or whatever… don't worry he won't ditch lol 

Y/N: i found a spot damnnnnn. cya in a bit

SY: lol tae wouldn’t let him live if he ditched

SY: nice :D yoongi and i are in the purple section

The purple section was undoubtedly the best spot in the Underground, as you had discovered almost 2 years ago. Being new to the city, you had basically followed Joon and Hobi wherever they went to socialize or get food. It was around the end of your second month in the program that Seokjin planned a mid-semester gathering, refusing to eat at, in his words, “another cheap taco truck masquerading as kitschy Instagram bait”. That was your first encounter with the Underground as well as your first experience in the purple section. Simply put, it had the best sofas and chairs, an abundance of vintage arcade games, easy access to the bar and food counter, and a separate music setup. It also cost a lot more to sit at the purple section, but Seokjin had never been the type to scrimp when it came to anything. It had become a kind of tradition after that; every time someone had a birthday, Seokjin would reserve the purple section for the evening. Not having grown up surrounded by luxury and riches, it was sometimes difficult for you to understand how Seokjin never thought twice before spending money on things. Then again, you doubted you would’ve been this thoughtful even if you had this kind of money at your disposal. Seokjin might’ve been hard to read at times, but his heart was in the right place.

Speaking of, you spotted Seokjin standing next to a couple of people you didn’t recognise. Deciding that this was probably the best time to get introduced to the first years, you walked over to them with a smile.

“Just deposited Joon, Hobi, and Tae near the bar. I feel sorry for your tab today, Seokjin.”

Seokjin lifted one of his thick arched eyebrows at you and then burst into his signature windshield wiper laugh. “I’ll give them a free pass today. Afterall, it’s the beginning of a new academic year!”

“You’re planning on dumping all of Kang’s data analysis on them, aren’t you?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Ah, Y/N, you know me so well,” he grinned, his features lighting up mischievously. “By the way, here’s two thirds of the new cohort. Song Yeri and Jeon Jungkook.”

You glanced at the two unfamiliar people and smiled in greeting. Yeri was a petite girl with long black hair who quickly fell into conversation with you. Jungkook, on the other hand, gave you a soft nod and walked over to where Jimin was opening a couple of beers. 

“So is Professor Kang someone we should be worried about?” asked Yeri, not giving you much time to pay much attention to Jungkook. “I wouldn’t want to be unprepared.”

Seokjin laughed at her worried tone. “Straight off the bat, huh?” 

Yeri flushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Oh no- I mean, it just seemed like that from your conversation!”

“Don’t worry, Yeri,” you assured her. “Seokjin’s a fourth year - not much phases him. He’s doing his PhD under Kang so he has to do tons of data analysis for her projects. Which he sometimes dumps on people who have been bothering him.”

Yeri looked suitably concerned at this new piece of information. She glanced at Seokjin’s handsome profile and smiled uncertainly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. It really was difficult to get a grasp on everyone’s personalities just by their looks. Each and every guy in the department was strikingly handsome, and Sooyoung, the only other female besides you, looked like she had walked out of a fashion show. It would’ve been extremely intimidating if you hadn’t personally been a witness to how clumsy Namjoon was, how lame Seokjin’s puns were, how scared Yoongi and Hoseok were of anything remotely resembling an insect, how Tae hadn’t managed to cook a single meal without setting off the fire alarm or giving Jimin food poisoning, how Jimin often collided into objects because he was laughing too much, or how Sooyoung had gotten lost multiple times on her way to campus in spite of driving along the same road for more than 3 years. You were sure Yeri, and the other two first years, would definitely get over the initial nerves and intimidation surrounding their colleagues. In fact, if Jungkook’s animated conversation with Jimin was anything to go by, it seemed like he had gotten over that already.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others.” You steered Yeri in Sooyoung and Yoongi’s direction.

xxx

“Thanksgiving next week! I cannot wait to get away from this blasted Ethics class!” 

You were currently in Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared posh apartment, trying to proof-read a paper before the conference deadline. On the couch next to you sat Seokjin and Namjoon, eyes blinking rapidly in tiredness, while Jimin sat across from you, his silver hair tied into a messy ponytail. 

The door to the apartment swung open at that moment as Jungkook walked in, armed with takeout from at least 4 different places.

“I come bearing sustenance,” he announced, as Jimin jumped up with surprising alacrity and rushed towards him. 

“Your Busan blood runs strong, my friend,” said Jimin, appreciatively, eyeing all the different containers on the table. “I knew I could count on you.”

“That makes zero sense, Jimin,” scoffed Sooyoung. She was buried deep inside Yoongi’s favorite bean bag, having taken it over since the owner was currently not at home. “But li’l Jeon has proven to be a valuable addition to our department.”

“Ugh! Don’t call him that! Li’l Jeon sounds like something else,” you said, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“I agree,” replied Jungkook, rolling up his sleeves as he began opening the containers carefully. “But i can assure you of one thing - there is nothing li’l about this Jeon. In any sense of the word.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you declared, throwing a particularly soft pillow over your face. 

Three months into the semester and Jungkook had become an integral part of your group of friends. It had turned out that Jungkook and Jimin knew each other very well, having gone to school together in Busan. It’s not as if you hadn’t become well acquainted with the other two first years - Yeri still consulted you whenever she needed advice on how to deal with grading or professors or classes in general; and Lauren, an international student from France, was very friendly and turned up at all the department hangouts. But Jungkook seemed like he had been part of your group forever - not someone who had met almost everyone for the first time about 3 months ago. As was customary with first year PhD students, they were required to complete a few mandatory courses before being allowed to customize their coursework around their individual research interests. So even though Jungkook had all the same classes with Yeri and Lauren, almost every moment outside of classes was spent with one of you.

“I can’t believe it’s already time for Thanksgiving,” said Jimin, popping an entire dumpling into his mouth. “-ime eeli plyz.”

“Chew your food, you barbarian,” scolded Seokjin, blowing on a particularly large piece of fried chicken before putting the entirety into his mouth. A couple of chews and a large swallow later, Seokjin was ready for a second piece.

“Speak for yourself,” remarked Sooyoung, holding onto her food protectively.

“I remember Yoongi telling us during our orientation,” Namjoon piped up, a can of beer in his hand. “‘In a PhD program, days are slow, but semesters are fast’. I thought he was high at that time, but I realise now that he’s a true genius.”

“I still don’t get why you’re such a Yoongi fanboy,” grumbled Seokjin, settling comfortably into the couch once again. “I’m just as wise, and definitely a lot funnier.”

“Don’t forget about being a drama queen,” said Sooyoung, nudging Seokjin’s knee with her toes. “You’ve got that one over Yoongi as well.”

“Four years and you're still as ungrateful,” sighed Seokjin, looking uncharacteristically cheerful at the teasing. 

“At least I’m consistent,” shrugged Sooyoung. “Gimme some of your kimchi.”

“Consistency is only useful across data samples,” remarked Seokjin, picking up a small amount of kimchi with his chopsticks and feeding Sooyoung. “Not sure how desirable it is in human relationships. Life would be unbearably dull in that case.” 

“They’ve been dancing around each other for as long as I’ve known them. Why can’t they just get together and stop their incessant flirting in front of the rest of us,” you muttered darkly, vigorously pouring chili oil over your ramen. You, Namjoon, and Jungkook were still getting your food from the kitchen, while Jimin had gone ahead and joined the incessantly flirting pair in the living room.

“Y/N is always so bitter about anything to do with romance,” chuckled Namjoon. “Jungkook, do you know how annoyed she was when Hobi started dating last year?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing that story.” Jungkook glanced at you cheekily, while popping open a can of beer.

“She didn’t speak to him for an entire week. Which was particularly inconvenient because the three of us had just started living in the same apartment, and we were all assigned to assist Choi on her year-end department survey. Poor Hobi thought he might have to find a new place to live.” 

“I’m sorry? Were you the one who came back home after extended office hours to find your friend butt-naked and balls-deep inside the barista who works across the street from our lab? I couldn’t get coffee from there for a month because I couldn’t look Sujin in the eye without immediately imagining Hobi in his natural drawers.”

Jungkook, who had chosen this exact moment to take a sip of beer, spat out the amber liquid on an unsuspecting Namjoon. 

“That’s what you get for deriving pleasure from other people’s misfortunes,” you remarked, smugly.

xxx

It was around 11.30 in the morning, when you heard a loud knocking on your apartment door. Classes had broken for Thanksgiving yesterday, which meant that today was your day to catch up on all the sleep you had missed over the last three months. But instead, you had been woken up much ahead of your intended 16 hours of sleep schedule. 

“You look awful.”

Jungkook walked into the apartment, looking far too fresh and sprightly for your liking. He was wearing that godforsaken plaid shirt that hung loosely off his body, but would highlight his rather well-defined muscles every time he happened to move in a particular way. You absolutely hated what a tease his shirt was. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t wearing the skin tight black jeans which always looked like they were about to burst at the seams, thanks to Jungkook’s equally well-defined thighs. 

“It’s not even noon. Why can’t you call before showing up? Where are your manners, Jeon?” you grumbled, checking to see if your pajamas had any glaring holes in them.

“I need help with the data analysis,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Professor Lee gave me a really tough dataset because I breezed through the first two assignments.”

“Still don’t see why you came over without any notice at this ungodly hour,” you continued, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I also got jjajangmyeon, kimbap, and bubble tea from Kimchi Palace.”

“What kind of bubble tea?” you asked, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

“Strawberry milk tea, half sugar, light ice, with extra strawberry jelly, and no boba.”

“I suppose it isn’t that early.”

A few minutes later, you were explaining principal component analysis to Jungkook, while eating jjajangmyeon and sipping bubble tea. The kimbap was put into the fridge for later, in case Namjoon or Hoseok wanted to have some when they got home at night. 

Jungkook was very intelligent; he picked up new concepts quite easily and was one hundred percent committed to whatever he worked on. He also had a refreshing sense of humor, where he didn’t always crack jokes or stay in the limelight, but his occasional quips were enough to send everyone into fits of laughter. He got along extremely well with each of them. He and Taehyung often walked around the city taking obscure, artsy photographs. Seokjin had basically adopted Jungkook as a younger brother due to his video gaming abilities. Namjoon was glad to finally have someone who enjoyed going on nature hikes with him, while Hoseok had been hugely impressed at Jungkook’s dancing and promptly asked him to help out at his studio. Jimin already knew Jungkook quite well, and Yoongi was more than happy to teach someone else the intricacies of cooking different kinds of meat. Even Sooyoung, who usually remained closed off from new people, had allowed Jungkook to use her car whenever someone needed to be picked up but she was too exhausted to drive. 

“I’m sorry I came by so early. I know you’ve been looking forward to catching up on sleep over the break,” he said softly, looking up from his laptop. That was the other thing that had struck you about Jungkook, he was very perceptive and sensitive to people around him. A rare quality which you appreciated far more than you let on.

“It’s fine. You saved me from having to cook lunch. That itself deserves many prizes from my end. You know how I hate cooking,” you shrugged.

“Speaking of, I’m making dinner for me and Tae tonight. Jimin’s visiting his brother, so it's just the two of us. And since I’d rather not get food poisoning, I’m putting Yoongi’s lamb chop recipe to good use,” he grinned boyishly. “You should come over if you don’t have anything else planned. It’ll save you from cooking another meal.”

“I might take you up on that offer. Let me check if either Joon or Hobi are having dinner at home, otherwise I’ll definitely be there.”

xxx

Taehyung and Jimin (and now Jungkook) lived about 10 minutes away from your place. It was a much larger apartment, so three people were more than comfortable there. Jungkook was staying there until he found another place to stay, but judging by how happy Jimin and Taehyung were with him around, he would probably end up staying with them permanently.

“I found parking at your building for the first time today,” you remarked, dropping your bag on the nearest couch. 

“Half the people are visiting family over the weekend. You won’t be so lucky next time.” Taehyung walked over lazily, his thick black hair falling messily over his eyes. He was dressed in his favorite Celine t-shirt and a pair of the loosest pants you had seen till date.

“The perm’s still looking good, Tae,” you grinned at him, taking the soda from his hand. 

“I’m planning on getting it done again once it wears off,” he said happily, settling into the couch. “Catch up on your sleep? Or did Gguk ruin your Thanksgiving plans as well?”

“‘As well’?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Taking advantage of the nearly empty laundry room and washing all the sheets does not count as ‘ruining’ anyone’s Thanksgiving plans!” yelled Jungkook from inside the kitchen.

“He woke me up at 7 am and stripped the sheets off my bed, emptied all our laundry bags, and locked me out of my room so that I wouldn’t dirty the bare mattress with my grubby clothes.” Taehyung’s grumbling was always extremely funny because he would end up pouting by the end of his rant and no one would take him seriously after that.

“Okay, the bread is in the oven and should be ready in about 15. Lamb chops are almost done as well. We’ll be dining in no time,” said Jungkook, flopping onto the couch beside you.

“That gives me enough time to answer the emails Choi sent me this morning. Jimin was right, she’s a madwoman. Doesn’t understand what ‘a break’ is , apparently,” sighed Taehyung, getting up and walking towards his room. “Lemme know when the food is ready.”

3 years ago, if anyone had told you that you would be more than halfway through your PhD having become close friends with seven of the most handsome guys on campus (or even in the country), you would’ve laughed at them and then silently questioned their sanity. But now, you couldn’t imagine life without them. Even Jungkook, you realised, glancing at the boy next to you. He had also become an extremely important part of your life. He didn’t say much, but his actions made things abundantly clear. He was extremely caring and thoughtful, even if he didn’t always have the right words to express himself. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, looking at you sleepily.

“That this soda is almost lukewarm.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Suddenly, you felt a rough set of fingers poking your ribcage. Slowly, but surely, you were squirming in place as you struggled to not spill your soda while Jungkook continued tickling you mercilessly. 

“I know your weakness, remember?” he managed to say between giggles, his voice turning high-pitched as it usually did when he laughed too hard. 

“Gguk stop! The soda! It’ll spill on the carpet!” you gasped, trying to keep your hand steady.

“Oh shit! Sorry. Yeah, Jimin would freak out if he saw a stain on this carpet.” Jungkook let you go so that you could place the soda can on the nearest table. But as soon as you had freed your hands, you jumped on him and pinned him on the couch.

“I also know your weakness, Gguk,” you grinned, deviously, before tickling him with all your might. 

Needless to say, a scenario with two people in their mid-twenties behaving like 4 year olds, was bound to have certain consequences. In this case, it ended with both you and Jungkook falling off the couch, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

This wasn’t the first time you had been struck by how handsome Jungkook was. In fact, you had noticed the exact number of moles on his face and neck, having stopped yourself from reaching out and touching the one under his lower lip on more than one occasion. His large doe eyes also held a certain innocence and wonder in them, even though he was an extremely bright and capable PhD student with a lot of varied knowledge bases. Not just that, his impressive physique had caught you off guard many times. Particularly because it contrasted so heavily with his boyish face.

None of that mattered at this moment, as you could feel his breath on your face. He was so close… If you reached up a little bit, you would be-

“The oven timer’s been beeping for the last 10 minutes. But you both are too busy eye-fucking each other to notice.”

Taehyung’s deep voice caused you both to spring apart from each other, mortification heating up your face and neck. Jungkook’s ears, you noticed, had turned a very beautiful shade of red as well.

Dinner wasn’t as awkward as you expected because Yoongi dropped by a few minutes after your ‘eye-fucking’ session, extremely hungry and annoyed at Seokjin - who had decided to use this night to slow cook some pork.

“Gguk, this is really good,” said Yoongi, once all of you had finished eating. “Didn’t think you’d be able to get it right on the first go! Y/N, what’d you think? You’ve been awfully quiet the whole time.”

You nodded your head in response, keenly aware of Taehyung’s intense gaze that followed your every move. “It was really good, Gguk. Thanks for a lovely meal.”

“Do you need a ride home, Yoongi?” you asked, once all the dishes had been cleared away. “I’ve got my car.”

“Life-saver. I need to pick up a tin of coffee from the convenience store. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in 10?” said Yoongi slipping on his jacket.

“Wait, I’ll go with you. I need to buy some soda,” said Taehyung, springing up suddenly. Not bothering to change out of his slippers, he rushed out after Yoongi, but not before glancing quickly between you and Jungkook and sending you a rather outrageous wink.

“That was… weird,” you remarked, relieved to see that Jungkook had missed your exchange with Taehyung. “Anyway, thanks again for a great meal. You’re a really good cook, Gguk.”

“Thanks,” he said, not really looking up from his phone. He had also been rather silent throughout the meal.

“I’m heading out then. See you later, Gguk.” You picked up your bag and proceeded to open the door.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around to find Jungkook standing rather close to you. You could see the mole below his lower lip quite clearly from here.

“You never told me what you were thinking about.” His voice was a lot more husky than usual, and you gulped as you realised you had no clue what to say to him.

“I-”

Before you could finish your half-formed sentence, Jungkook’s lips were on yours, kissing you slowly. After being frozen for a second or two, your hands made their way into his soft brown curls, relishing in the feeling of having him so close to you. You realised that you had been wanting to do this for a while now. Maybe even since the first day of classes, when he had offered you his cup of coffee after the machine in the department had stopped working. 

“Never mind,” he said, breaking the kiss with a soft ‘chu’. “You can tell me another time. Yoongi’s probably waiting at the parking lot.”

“And Tae might come back any minute now,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a soft smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow?” It seemed like your brain had short circuited. 

“Yeah.” He dipped down and placed another chaste kiss on your mouth, before displaying his adorable bunny smile. “But even that seems too far away right now.”

You were really grateful that you managed to get both yourself and Yoongi home without crashing the car that night. Once you got home, you checked your phone and found two messages - a text from Jungkook checking if you had reached home safe, and another one from Taehyung.

T: the couch is off limits. don’t even think about it...

xxx

please do not repost anywhere. reblog if you enjoyed the story!

[imagine-the-fanfics]

Honesty -- Part 2

Characters: Goro Majima x Reader X Daigo Dojima

Warnings: Abuse (verbal), cheating, softcore (brief), toxic relationship traits

Inspiration: Prompt – “I stay awake constantly. I’m always awake. Always. I’m scared that if I fall asleep, I’ll see your face, and I can’t do it. I just can’t.”; “i hate u, i love u (feat. Olivia o’Brien)” by gnash; “Invincible” by Crossfade; “Everything Stays (feat. Olivia Olson)” by Adventure Time

A/n: I don’t know what to add. I feel like I’m not having a lot to add to fics lately.

Months had passed since you saw Majima last. His existence haunted yours; every so often he would randomly pop into your mind, memories the two of you shared playing back like a movie. It was at its worst when you dreamt about him, only to wake up next to Daigo.

The relationship was toxic, that was undeniable. There was nothing good that came from it, and it was better that it die and be left behind.

The love was consuming, that, too, was undeniable. You had never loved anyone as fiercely as you loved him, and you fully believed you would never feel that deep of a love for anyone else.

When your relationship with Daigo went public, your life changed. Majima was forced back into your life, and it was painful. Every time you saw him was a stab to your gut. He always had this blank look in his eyes, the fire that had drawn you in was barely an ember now. He was still the Mad Dog, but the mask slipped more than it stuck these days. You’d heard that he was seen around town spending his money on women and whiskey; rarely spending more than a handful of nights with each of them, and those nights were never in succession.

A year passed since your break up with Majima, and your engagement was formally announced.

Your engagement party was the worst of those moments. Daigo had picked your dress, just like how he picked everything in your life now. Once you agreed to marry him, he had started being more controlling. If you went anywhere, you went with guards. If you wanted to go shopping for clothes, Daigo had final say over what you bought. If you went out to eat, he ordered for you. You knew walking into this that you would likely end up in a loveless marriage, but you hadn’t expected to end up feeling like property and absolutely fucking miserable.

So there you stood, in a black halter dress with a cut out window creating a pseudo sweetheart neckline. The halter straps emerged from the side of your dress, connecting where your collarbones met, leaving you and your cleavage very exposed. You overheard someone joke about how your breasts looked ready to jump out and join the party, but Daigo paid it no mind. The bodice was so tight you had a hard time breathing, but skirt was a floor-length A-line with a slit in the side starting at your hip. Diamonds decorated your neck, your wrists, your ears, your feet— the wealth of your fiancé displayed on you like an intricate mannequin.

You stood next to your fiancé, smiling and thanking people as they gave the two of you wishes of congratulations. Some of them had gifts, but they were directed to a table where they could be placed. So many people came and went that the endless parade blurred into one single stream. So many new faces to memorize, even more returning faces you scrambled to remember. There were easily a thousand people here, if not more. You were here to greet all of them.

The Majima’s depression was written in his blank stare, the bags under his eyes, the smell of whiskey on his breath. He’d watched you from afar, greeting everyone while at Daigo’s side and it made him sick. He slammed the rest of his whiskey before getting in line.

Your heart broke when Majima came to offer his congratulations. He was clearly well on his way to being drunk, and he looked like he was completely dead inside. Still, you kept the façade of a happy bride-to-be, smiling and thanking him. You could feel Daigo’s eyes on you, watching for any hint of an emotional connection to Majima, and you were more than happy to deny it. Still, you couldn’t help but watch as Majima left.

After the greeting was dinner. You and Majima couldn’t help but make eye contact, and each time it became harder and harder to keep the façade together. You managed to choke down the food you’d been served with a smile on your face. Once dinner was finished, you asked Daigo for permission to step outside. He waved you away and you stepped out onto the balcony, looking at the bustling street below.

You hadn’t expected to see Majima already standing there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette in his fingers. You watched him take a drag, and you kept watching him after. There was so much inside you that you wanted to say, that you had to say. Instead, you turned to go inside. The peace of mind you had come here to find was nonexistent.

“You don’t have to leave,” Majima said before you could take another step. You turned your head and torso to look at him. “Not on my account at least. You’re Dojima’s woman now, you don’t have to worry about me trying anything.” The fake accent you had loved was gone.

You looked inside for a moment and then towards the railing of the balcony, continuing your path to the railing. You leaned against it next to Majima.

“Mind sharing?” You asked, looking at his cigarette.

“Since when do you smoke?” Majima asked with a raised eyebrow but a tone of concern. Still, he obliged, handing you a cigarette, letting you put it to your lips before lighting it. He watched you and frowned. “You used to get on my ass about my smoking. Sayin’ I was going to die of cancer. Now you’re smoking?”

“Reminds me of you,” you admitted absentmindedly. When you realized what you said you coughed. You saw Majima staring at you with a slack jaw. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Don’t want your fiancé to hear, after all,” Majima said with disgust.

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “I can’t even pick out my damn clothes anymore.”

“I was wondering about that dress,” Majima said, looking at you. “Doesn’t seem like you at all.”

“Because it’s not, but Daigo wanted to show off his trophy, I guess.” You took a drag from your cigarette, exhaling out just a slice of your frustration. “I don’t hate him, but I’m getting there. I resent him. Looking at him makes me sick. And fucking him? I—” You looked at Majima and saw the pained grimace on his face as he returned his gaze to the street below. “Sorry.”

Silence settled over you as the two of you stood there in silence.

“I stay awake constantly,” Majima admitted. “I’m always awake. Always. I’m scared that if I fall asleep, I’ll see your face, and I can’t do it. I just can’t, Y/n.” He took a drag, a tear rolling down his cheek as he regained his composure. “Watching my boss dangle you in front of me like a toy I can’t have pisses me off. You’re not a toy. I know I treated you like shit, but you’re a human being; you’re not a doll to dress up and show off to your friends.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you said nothing. Another drag, another exhale. Silence settles in again. The two of you listen in to the traffic below.

“You haunt me,” you admitted quietly. “It comes in waves. Sometimes it’s just a spec of a memory; sometimes it’s all-consuming.” You flicked your ash and let it fall from the balcony to the world below. “I’ll dream of you and wake up next to Daigo and… It’s devastating. I see you everywhere, in everything. Daigo put on a movie with zombies and I couldn’t help but wonder if you’d like this one. I see a couple fighting on the street and I get nostalgic. Nostalgic, can you fucking believe that?” Another drag. “You can’t sleep, but I can’t seem to exist.”

More silence. You finished your cigarette, putting it out on the railing and flicking it out onto the street below before leaving Majima on the balcony to be alone with his thoughts.

It wasn’t long after that that the dancing started. Majima stared at you as you danced with Daigo and others, watching you with a mix of devastation, love, and anger. He didn’t say anything – he wasn’t dumb enough to do that – but he sipped his whiskey. The whiskey didn’t dull the edge of the pain he was feeling. The whiskey did nothing but make those emotions stronger. Seeing him broke your heart one piece at a time, and when it was completely shattered into dust you excused yourself, leaving the rented ballroom and sobbed in the hall. Thank God that you could afford the best setting spray for your makeup.

Seconds after you started crying Majima was taking your hand and leading you to an elevator. “No one can see you cry or the façade is off and Dojima is made a fool.” Thankfully, it didn’t appear anyone had seen you leave. When you were on the elevator, he hit the button for his room’s floor. The door closed and the elevator started to rise. “I’m taking you to my room. You can cry in peace there, but if you take too long people are going to question where you are.”

You watched him, but he just stared at the buttons. Your crying stopped, he looked at you, and the next thing you knew he had against the wall of the elevator, his lips on yours. You put one hand on his chest, the other resting on his neck as the two kissed like it was oxygen after the two of you had nearly drowned in the sorrow of the other’s absence. You didn’t care when he slid your skirt to the side, one hand against the flesh of your hip, the other tangled up in your hair as he slid a leg between your legs. It gave you something to rub against, and you rocked your hips on his thigh, the sweet friction making you 

The elevator was still going. You had no idea how long you had left in this moment, but you didn’t care. This was much needed bliss. Toxic as the two of you were for each other, the love you shared for each other would never die, no matter how desperate the two of you were to leave it in the past.

The elevator dinged; the door opened up. Majima immediately backed off at the sound, running a gloved finger against his bottom lip. Your skirt fell to its intended place and you were left panting. He took your hand in his and led you to his room, taking his hand back as he flipped his wallet open, removing his keycard to open the door. The whole process was second, but it felt like eternity.

[afictionaladventure16]

this is a little (a lot) dark but for the teen!reader prompt list, can you do a severely depressed reader that feels she's never going to be good enough and has caused enough heartache and disappointment (maybe a really bad argument happened?) so she decides to try and end it all with Robert or Evans finding her? With 23, 33, and 48. it's okay if you don't write this

Fall Apart Twice A Day (Chris Evans x Teen!Reader)

A/N: Okay, I tried my best to make as dark as I could! I didn’t want to make it too dark, fearing it might be a bit triggering but I hope it’s too your standards! 

Actor Fics Masterlist

Character Taglist

Teen!Reader Prompt List

Warnings: Suicide attempt, mentions of self-hatred, mentions of self-harm, kind of dark

Word Count: 1,500

“Mom, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said softly into the phone. You had been arguing with your mother about money. Money that you worked hard for. Money that she wanted to spend on things for herself, like a new car, a new house, a luxury vacation.

“And I didn’t think an acting career was a good idea but I supported you on that,” she spat back.

“You barely even supported me,” you muttered.

“Excuse me? I was the one to drive you to all those annoying auditions!”

“Yeah, those annoying auditions got me to where I am now and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re wasting all this money, that I worked hard for, for yourself!”

“Well, I’m your mother! I raised you, I think you owe me this!”

“I don’t owe you anything! You chose to have a child! I didn’t ask to be born! If anything, I wished I never was!”

“If you’re just going to treat your mother like a piece of garbage after she ruined her body to give birth to you after she raised you by herself for half your life then don’t even think about coming home!” with that your mother hangs up the phone. You couldn’t believe the nerve your mother had. Were you wrong? Did you actually owe her? I mean, you worked for that money, you had planned on buying yourself a nice home when you were older. You had wanted to give some to charity, to those who needed it the most and if you had decided to go to college, the money would be there for that too. You decided to give it a couple of days, to let your mother cool down if she ever did. You’re only sixteen, it’s not like you could just go rent a place for yourself, you’d had to get a court order to be emancipated first and you knew all the drama that would cause.

*TRIGGER WARNING* 

You walked into your hotel bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, “am I ever going to be good enough?” you whispered to yourself. It felt like whatever you did, you just wouldn’t be good enough for your mother. Even with the new house you had just bought her, she still wasn’t happy, she wanted a newer house, a bigger one. Your heart panged at the thought, did she even appreciate the gift?

Your eyes gazed over to the razor in your shower, the razor you used to shave and nothing else. You had been tempted multiple times to use it for more than just that but you couldn’t do that. Not to your mother, not to your friends, not to those who cared… but right now, your mind was clouded with horrible thoughts. Before you could even think about it, you were reaching over to the razor, breaking it so the small blades were all that was left. You took one last look in the mirror, “worthless,” you mumbled as you looked at yourself in disgust before continuing what you had in mind with the blade.

~

Chris’s eyes slowly fluttered open, he groaned as he looked over to the small nightstand clock. 1 A.M. it read.

He sighed to himself, deciding now would be a good time to check on you. He did it every night, randomly waking up at certain hours in the night and walking over to your hotel room to make sure you were okay. He thought of you as your own, took you under his wing while filming the new movie and now that you guys were on a press tour, he took it upon himself to make sure to take care of you as if his life depended on it.

When he told your mother he’d take care of you, she didn’t seem to care, he caught onto this. He found it a bit weird, wouldn’t most parents be grateful?

Chris walked across the hall, swiping the extra hotel card he had for your room into the small card slot. He creaked open the door, giving it a small knock, “Y/N?” he said softly, loud enough so he wouldn’t wake you if you were asleep but if you were awake, you could’ve heard him.

As soon as Chris stepped into the room he noticed you weren’t in bed. He looked around, spotting the bathroom light on with the door almost open, “Y/N? What are you doing up?” He asked with a small chuckle, “isn’t it a little late to be doing face masks?” He’s caught you a couple of times doing some face masks, usually, on the days, your acne got bad. Chris stopped before the door, worried filled his mind when you didn’t respond, “Y/N?” He asked softly as he knocked on the bathroom door before opening it wider.

His heart drops at the sight, you laid in a pool of your own blood as your eyes began to slowly shut. Chris grabbed a nearby towel before quickly running to your side, placing your head on his lap, “Come on, hon, you have to stay awake for me!” he said as he patted your face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He muttered as he placed the toward on your wrist, “why would you do this?” he whispered. Chris let out a frustrated sigh as he gently placed your head back on the floor, running to the hotel phone that was near the bed, he called the front desk, “Hello?”

“Yes, I need an ambulance to room 406! My uh- my kid, she’s bleeding… She tried to kill herself!” Chris felt choked up as he spoke. He quickly hung up the phone and ran back over to you. Placing your head back onto his lap as he sat on the floor.

He continued to apply pressure onto your wound, “Chris,” you said softly. You didn’t want him to find you like this, you hadn’t thought about it. “I-I,” your words drifted slowly, your eyes fluttered from the lack of blood.

“No, no, no, no, don’t do this to me now!” Chris said in a panic as he gently patted your face again, “come on, Y/N, stay with me! You can’t leave me, you hear? I can’t lose you, baby girl!” You tried your hardest to stay awake but your eyes kept fluttering shut and soon the darkness consumed you.

~

The sound of the heart monitor was the first thing you heard when you woke up, you looked around and spotted Chris looking down at his phone. You wondered how long you had been out for. You looked down towards your bandaged wrist, letting out a shaky sigh causing Chris to pull his attention away from his phone. He perked up when he saw you were awake, “hey,” he said softly as he sat down on the chair next to your bed, “how are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” you said softly.

Chris gave you a nod as he brushed some hair out of your face, “you gave me a scare,” he whispered, “I thought I lost you forever.” You looked over at Chris, noticing the tears forming in his eyes, you felt so guilty for attempting to commit suicide.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a small sob, Chris quickly wrapped his arms around you, placing a small kiss on the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, “it’s okay, Y/N, all that matters is that you’re alive and you’re going to recover.” he slowly let go of the embrace as soon as you started to calm down, “why did you do it, hon?” You sighed, then explained the small argument you had with your mother and how it made you feel like you weren’t good enough. “You know that’s not true,” he said softly as he gave you a smile, “you are good enough, Y/N.”

“Has she come to visit me?”

He sighed, “… she hasn’t, but she’s been asking for updates through text.”

You rolled your eyes, “she doesn’t care,” you whispered.

“You can always get emancipated,” Chris suggested, “you can afford it.”

“I know I can,” you said softly, “but all the drama that comes with it and the thought of being alone.”

“There’s always going to be some sort of drama, Y/N, but you can’t keep living in this situation and you’re not alone. You have me and dodger. You can stay with us until you’re ready.” You sighed, thinking about his offer, “just know that you have people who care about you, Y/N, if it doesn’t feel like it, if your mind says otherwise, you do have people who care. Suicide is never an option, it’ll only cause more pain, hon.” Chris was right, you did have people who cared about you, you were just blinded by the self-hatred that you didn’t see it. Sometimes you just had to take a deep breathe and wait. Wait for the clouds to pass by so you can see clearly.

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[hugs-and-cuddles-for-everyone]

Things I would do if I was Jeff Bezos

Donate tens of billions to toilet twinning and WHO and help fund their campaigns to make sure everyone in the world has access to clean water and toilets

Start a campaign to make Amazon more eco-friendly - packaging things in reusable packaging, planting two trees for every one that they cut down...

Paying low level workers more - every worker who works full time should be able to afford to rent somewhere to live, pay their bills, buy food and buy some luxuries (this will help the economy)

Cut down my earnings to around 500K a year- I really can't see how you could spend more than that even with the fanciest houses and most expensive clothes???

I mean honestly, I could quite happily live off 100k a year and be extremely comfortable, but I imagine Jeff has a huge house that racks up huge bills and stuff

Put money into researching and implementing how to improve schools and education all around the world

Basically give loads of money to a ton of different charities and pay some private auditors to make sure they are spending it well

Adopt a teenager who's been in the care system for ages, and get them therapy and great schooling, and basically spend loads of time with them and give them all my love

Fund my own TV shows that have lots of diversity and rep and because I'm funding them no one can say "no lgbtq+ characters because of the Russian market" and stuff

Write a book and get it published

Spend a ton of money comissioning my favourite fan creators to make awesome content

Randomly donate money to people's gofundme and other money-raising services

Buy every book I've ever wanted to read, read them, and then start a library

Pay for the university tuition fees of everyone in my family

Buy the plot of land that my grandparent's house is on so it can never be knocked down

Etc - feel free to add

[g3n3ration-h3x]

TLDR: My mom is recently disabled and unable to work, because of this we couldn’t afford our rent and had to move in with my abusive, alcoholic grandfather. I also had to start working overtime while juggling my college classes to keep up with our finances, including my mom’s medical bills. But I managed to keep up with all of this until I was in a bad car wreck recently and no longer had a reliable way to get to work or school. On top of all this, last week my grandfather was drunk and when I was leaving for work he randomly blew up on me and started choking me and punched me in the face several times when I tried to fight back. I was able to get a good hit in and get away, but he told me not to come back or he’d kill me and frankly I believe him. So me and my mom, my grandma and our dog all moved out immediately, but we don’t have anywhere to go now. Some family friends let us stay with them through the weekend and we’ve been staying in a little hotel since then but we don’t have enough money for another night after tonight so if you could donate any amount at all it would be a huge help to me and my family and we would be so grateful! Thanks for your time though guys, I hope you all have a great rest of your day!! :)

Hey guys so I want to apologize in advance for this, and I also want to apologize for my slow activity here recently. I know this isn’t really akin to my normal edgy content on here and I promise once my situation improves we will return to the regularly scheduled edginess. Plus I’ve also been working on a couple songs I want to drop and share on here with you guys, but I don’t have access to any of my recording or editing equipment right now, given my current situation. They’ve got that horrorcore vibe though so I think you guys would dig it!

But really this all started last fall when my mom became unable to work because she kept falling over and/or passing out at work, she couldn’t maintain a good grip on things because her hands began to hurt and shake, her short-term memory was functioning horribly, etc. Obviously at this point she was a liability to her company and she soon left work on short-term disability because her neurologist suspected she had Parkinson’s disease, somewhere between stages 3 and 4. However this was not a clear diagnosis because the nature of my mom’s sickness is bizarre, and so the doc wanted to run some more tests before he came to a final decision with his diagnosis.

At the same time, while all of this was going on, my mom had started the process of applying for a long-term disability claim while the neurologist ran more tests, but it’s a lengthy process that could take up to a year. In the mean time, I’ve been managing to shoulder all our expenses by juggling working overtime while still going to college. I was and still am the only one working in our household, but I managed to make it work up until about a month ago when I was in a bad car accident, leaving me without reliable transportation to work or school until I can afford to fix my car.

Luckily I have some amazing friends and a lovely girlfriend that have been helping me get to where I need to go, but obviously this is just a temporary solution, I can’t expect them to keep going out of their way for me forever. But right now virtually my entire paycheck is going towards my ADHD medication, my mom’s medical bills and medications, and bare necessities like groceries and gas.

On top of all this, the situation escalated and became dire last Wednesday when my grandfather blew up on me out of nowhere and attacked me as I was leaving for work, and he choked me and punched me in the face several times when I tried to resist him. Fortunately I was able to get away after I hit him in the face and his head went back and hit the wall, but he threatened to kill me if I ever came back to the house. I’m still not quite sure what sparked the whole thing, but I can only assume that it has to do with my sexuality and my relationship with my girlfriend.

So we’re now homeless, we all moved out together and a family friend let us stay at their house through the weekend and we’ve been staying in a little motel since then, but we’re all out of money now and we aren’t sure where we are going to stay after tonight. This is serious guys, I promise I wouldn’t be asking for help like this if it wasn’t. We’re desperate and I’m at my wit’s end, so I’m gonna swallow my pride right now and ask for help. I just need some help getting back up on my feet and I’ll take it from there. Seriously guys anything helps, I just need enough to pay for first’s month rent someplace so I can focus on getting my car fixed and going back to work full time. I set up a Venmo and PayPal that you can make donations to if you’d like to help out, literally any amount at all helps, cause we don’t even have much to eat right now. Also my girlfriend is doing art commissions and selling jewelry on her instagram to raise money if you would rather help out that way, I’m gonna put all the info at the bottom. But honestly it would be a huge help even if you just reblogged this post so the word would get out to more people! I’m grateful for any help you guys can offer, you don’t know how much it means to me and my family, thank you guys so much, seriously! Of course you aren’t obligated to donate anything though, and I don’t think it makes you a bad person if you don’t, I’m just putting this out there so people know I need a little help getting back on my feet right now. And again, once my situation is more stable, I’ll be able to go back to a more consistent schedule on here and finish the couple songs I’ve been working on so I can share them on here with you guys.

Again, I’m really sorry about all of this. Thank you guys for taking the time to read this though and thank you for your time in general, I hope all of you have a great rest of your weekend, and again I want to thank you all for all your help, me and my family appreciate it so much, seriously! So thanks guys, sorry for being a bother!!

Venmo - @generationhex

PayPal - PayPal.Me/generationhex

Instagram - https://instagram.com/tiendita.angelito?igshid=1fpafnafw7flr

[kircns]

⌜ •°  ✦  °• — HEY!! is that AVAN JOGIA? no, that’s KIRAN MEHTA, hanging out in BROOKLYN. they’re TWENTY-EIGHT years old and use HE/HIM pronouns. what do they do here? they’re A MUSICIAN and they’ve lived here FOUR YEARS. their favourite thing about the city is THE FEELING OF INVINCIBILITY, but they hate THE COLD. they pride themselves on being CAREFREE.

Kiran was born and raised in a small, suburban town in North Carolina. His father was an immigrant from India, but his mother had grown up in that same town. His parents met in college, at Duke University, and settled down in his mother’s hometown because at the time of their marriage, her mother had been sick and they needed to be nearby. 

His father is a lawyer and his mother a pediatrician. There wasn’t much room for creativity in their household, as Kiran was very much expected to follow the path of the straight and narrow. Kiran was always arguing for the sake of arguing, and his father would simple ruffle his hair and say he was born to be a lawyer. At 7, he’d never seen his father so proud as when he proclaimed, “I want to study at Duke and become a lawyer like Dad!” 

Of course, goals change. Kids who once dreamed of becoming a doctor, a lawyer, an astronaut, start to find their real passions — or, in Kiran’s instance, discover their short comings. School was not something he enjoyed and he tended to get distracted by doodling in his notebook or drumming his fingers against the edge of his desk. He learned guitar in secret  — it’s not that his parents were against music, they liked it just fine, but rock ‘n roll was not allowed in the house, and spending his free-time playing the instrument as opposed to studying was certainly not acceptable 

He discovered weed at 16, which was the first time he felt as though he escaped from the pressure. It was on a particularly enlightening trip that he decided: Fuck. This. I wanna be a Rockstar. 

So when his senior year rolled around, he didn’t actually apply to any colleges (though of course he’d told his parents he had). And when acceptance letters started, he teamed up with his best friend to forge a UCLA letter, where he told his parents he’d be attending for pre-law.

So August after he graduated, he took his car (an Audi that his parents had given him for his 16th birthday due to perfect grades, a report of which he had forged as well), and drove out to Los Angeles with his best friend, who was actually going to UCLA for computer science. His thought process was: I’ll get there, I’ll go to Capitol Records, I’ll play for them, and boom. Record deal. Obviously, that wasn’t so much the case. 

In December of that year, his parents discovered he wasn’t actually attending UCLA. Angry and disappointed, they cut him off, which left Kiran with an apartment he couldn’t afford (and was forced to vacate) and a suitcase full of his belongings. And his precious car, which he’d end up living out of on top of couch surfing for the next six months. 

And then, good news finally struck. A UCLA student, a friend of a friend of a friend, who was studying to be in the entertainment industry, had decided to take on Kiran as his project. He wanted to manage him — and, with the little luck he’d had in succeeding so far, Kiran agreed. Next thing he knew, he was being signed to a small, independent record label and was booking shows at small venues around Los Angeles, and then San Diego, and then Portland and Seattle, and he just kept on spreading. 

It had been two year after he graduated high school that he returned to the east coast, but he hadn’t gone back to North Carolina. This time, he was in New York City, and he absolutely fell in love. He played a small show in Brooklyn with not even a hundred people, but it was still perfect. He met a girl, who’d complimented his set, and who he briefly fell in love with for just the night, just for the hours that he took her back to his hotel room. In the morning that feeling had vanished, and he’d sent her on her way, promising to call. He’d since forgotten that promise. 

After a few shows in NYC, Boston, Philly, etc, he returned to LA. But there was always something missing out there, and he never felt quite right about it. At twenty-four, he decided he wanted to live in New York full time. By then, he’d gained a sort of cult following. He wasn’t famous, by any means, but he was playing to rooms of about 300 people, and his shows tended to sell out amongst the underground crowd. He moved to Brooklyn, renting out an apartment in Williamsburg, where he has remained ever since. 

Personality wise, Kiran can be a bit of a snob at times. His stage name is KIRAN. He’s super passionate about music but can come across as a bit pretentious about it. He’s a big lover, but he falls in love with everyone and everything. He can write a love song about someone one night, and write another love song about someone else the next. Has a very carefree, go with the flow attitude. Literally always playing guitar or humming a tune. 

Wanted Connections

Band Mates: Every frontman needs his band!  If there’s any musicians, a guitarist, bassist, drummer, and mayhaps keyboardist would be cool. I’m still deciding on the voiceclaim, but I’m thinking something like The Growlers 

That One Girl: This is mentioned in the bio in slightly more detail, but when he was twenty and came to New York on a mini tour, he met a girl after his show and they went back to his hotel. Of course he’d promised he’d keep in touch, of course he didn’t. NYC is a huge place, he never thought he’d see her again. Well...I thought it’d be a fun connection if he did see her again. All these years later ( nearly 8 years ! ), they randomly bump into each other in some thrift shop in Brooklyn, or some diner in Manhattan, or a brewery in Queens. Anything works ! 

Manager/Best Friend: This is kind of a specific request so I may have to put in a wanted connection for this, but Kiran’s manager was a UCLA student that decided to make Kiran his project. Kiran was the first artist he ever managed, and it’s been a whole decade, so the two are thick as thieves, even if they don’t always see eye to eye on everything. 

All I Need: This is a connection inspired by a song, lol. Kiran is bisexual, So this is open to any gender ! In the song All I Need by The Frights, the lead singer sings about their baby!! The Love of their life!! In a song later released, Whatever, he sings: “and i’m still messed up from when you said you didn’t love me thirty minutes before we played ten songs about your name. and this crowd is screaming back, as i had a heart attack, as i tried to play the lead as i yelled you’re all i need” Basically gimme an ex who broke his heart, an ex who he wrote a lot of love songs about and now they’re hard to play live ! He’s been living in NYC for the past 4 years, so any time within then works. 

Honestly everything ! Neighbors, enemies, frenemies, give me a ton of friendship plots because i seriously can’t get enough of friendships

[windrider01]

I’m still a ball of nerves as the head office, who now owns my building still hasn’t gotten back to me yet about the rental increase. I keep crying randomly either thinking about it or even when I’m not.

Long story short...ish? I got my 4 months notice Wednesday night about my rent going up, which normal as it happens every year.

But... it said it was going up by $353 dollars, which in all my years renting I’ve never EVER seen before. Most it’s gone up is $70 bucks as I live down town. I don’t live by the water, yes a new building went up beside me which is going to have the YMCA in it, and a new company took over in October.

But that shouldn’t raise the rent by THAT much, so naturally.... after pretty much having an anxiety attack and bawling my eyes out for an hour. I emailed my rental office saying there has to be a mistake this can’t be right.

The rental office messaged back saying they never noticed what the rental increase was as it comes from head office, but they’ll check on it tomorrow for me once it’s open.

The response I got back Thursday wasn’t a “Why yes that is correct” (Though still very worried it still is correct but I am high anxiety and a big babyTM. 

All it said was that the head office / main head office person I guess? “Is working on the amount of rent increase for me” and if I have anymore questions or concerns regarding the issue to contact this person.

So I’m worried it was indeed correct and their working on their reason for raising the rent to such an amount. So I’m stressing about having money to pay rent as it’ll put it to $1700 dollars which I can’t afford, even if I can afford rent I can’t pay my other bills, let alone food. Apparently the province I live in doesn’t have a cap / amount renters follow to raise rent, so they can raise it as much as they want. And the province wonders WHY people aren’t able to rent :))))))

I am still hoping, no... praying it was a mistake that no one caught, which also concerns me, and they’ll apologize and say it’s actually $70.

Again...I am so scared it’s right and I really don’t want to move, I’ve only been here for going to be two years in July. I don’t want to pack and move and let alone find a new place.

I am terrified to call them next week and have them tell me the reason the rent is going up so high is and it was right.

Now I’ll just sit here sobbing once again as I don’t know if I’ll have a job after March 31st either.

I am just so much stress... I’m sorry

and in my usual fashion I’m afraid to reach out to anyone as I don’t want to bother them, so I’ll just smile and pretend everything is fine. Though I don’t want to be alone, does that make sense? Prolly not.

Not like anyone would notice if I wasn’t online for a few days anyway, I’m boring and forgetful. (Hi my anxiety is also here)

[aniseandspearmint]

OKAY (Long post is LONG because I am incapable of being concise, sorry. Why use ten words when a hundred will do?)

First off: I would like to thank each and every person that bought something on my Walmart or Amazon wish lists. It was of unimaginable help, especially the dogfood. The state randomly decided to cancel my EBT (again) for no discernible reason, so we had to spend money on food and would have had to dip into the money we had saved for a rental deposit without your help on those household essentials. So, T H A N K  Y O U.

(Note: If you bought something off our Amazon list, please PM me. Most of it’s gotten here okay, but one thing never arrived, but I don’t know who purchased it and you gonna need to contact amazon on your end)

Full situation recap: As a lot of you know, I have been desperately searching for someplace to move for the last few months. 

The property we live on right now is being sold, and the new owner doesn’t want our place, so it’s gonna be striped and used as a fire training stage.

There have been some false hopes. I was literally about to hand over a deposit on a place in June, even, when the property manager got a call from the big boss with an order to halt all rentals at that park (like, I am not even slightly exaggerating, I was about to initiate the bank transfer when the call came through).

So back to searching it was, which included many many fruitless calls, three attempted scams (hoo boy, was the last one a doozy too), and more tears and panic attacks than I care to admit (no, I’ll admit it. SO MANY).

BUT! I have prevailed! I HAVE A PLACE. 

Went and put the deposit down this afternoon and a hundred towards the first months rent (threee houuuuur caaaaar driiiiive. Both ways. Ugh. A thousand thanks to my current landlady for driving me across the state.)

This place is,,,, Well, better than the place I was fixing to put money on before? Bigger anyway. It’s an actual house, not a trailer, and rent-to-own direct from the owner not a bank (banks all want upwards of a thousand down on RtO; WHY?!?!). Walls, roof, windows, and floor all intact. Owner seems the decent sort for an old white southern dude (I’ll have to keep ace-ness and such on the downlow, but I expected that. This IS Georgia.)

However, there are some issues.

The entire thing, barring the (tiny TINY shotgun) bathroom and (awkwardly designed) Kitchen, is floored in THE most gawd AWFUL 70s olive green shag carpeting I have seen in AGES. 

I have pictures. 

I will totally share once I find where the hell my fxxkin’ camera specific USB cord went (may have to see if I can borrow one from someone tbh).

Also, the walls? Not only are they a funny pinky-grey tan, they are popcorned/cottage cheesed, not just the ceiling. It is one of the most yuckbadno combinations my autistic ass has encountered recently.

The owner also did a weird thing in the living room and boarded up and spackled over large windows on each side and replaced them with a single window in the front, which, okaaaay, but the spackle job is,,,, not the smoothest. like. At All.

 I don’t want to be too down on the owner, bc he is Old, and clearly not the finest handyman, but it is Bad. (I also have clear pics of this and will share).

The walls are handleable for the most part. I have a line on some paint, hopefully, and spackle is cheap. That can be handled after we move in, even if the color/texture makes me want to hurl.

The main problem is the carpet. 

Mom’s (mostly) in a wheelchair. And anyone who’s tried pushing themselves around on shag carpeting in a wheelchair knows, you get nowhere at a snails pace.

That stuff needs to go, ASAP.

So, I’m looking into flooring options to add to my Walmart Registry and my Amazon Wishlist. Mom’s adamant it HAS to be the solid sheet kind, not tile, so that limits what we can do. I’ll add some in the next few days once I figure out which ones are cheaply priced but not too cheaply made, and mostly lighter colors since the place really needs lightening tbh. I did toss a kind of flexible plastic runner on the lists, which will help if we can’t get flooring right away. She’d be able to move from room to room on those, I think. If anyone could possibly help out with some of the other items so we can save to buy the vinyl or pvc sheeting ourselves, I would be so grateful (dog food is always welcome).

Note: I’ve added some frivolous things to the Amazon list. Mom is currently very very disappointed that this is the best we could find and afford, and is tipping into a lovely depressive episode now, I think. The fact that it’s all fixable things is falling on deaf ears right now, all she can see is that it’s not what she’d hoped. She’s also still quite upset at the death of one of our dogs earlier this month. She usually bought herself a DVD or two a month, but we’ve been frantically trying to save money the past year, so it’s been a long time since she’s been able to. So I went and looked over her Amazon Wishlists and tossed a bunch of things she’s had on them for a long time. If anyone would be willing to grab her a favorite movie, or a book, or a hair clip, to raise her spirits a little, I’d be very grateful. (Her birthday is also in August, and at this rate, there really isn’t going to be anything left for us to have any kind of ‘Happy 69th Birthday’ celebration)

WALMART LIST

AMAZON LIST

[ashe-the-acorn]

-Hospitals can’t afford to hire more staff

“For profit private Medicare has decided it’s more profitable to be understaffed than provide adequate care”

-Companies can’t raise wages without raising prices, raising inflation.

“In spite of decades of increasing productivity and return on investment, capitalists have deemed every increasing profits are more important than fair wages and fair prices resulting in an inflation loop as they horde more on the top, devaluing what limited is in circulation”

- “The cost of property raised rent”

“Property prices have exploded as landlords have taken advantage of hoarded wealth to deplete the housing market and force others out so they’d re required to be trapped paying high rents on overvalued properties”

The economy isn’t some magic force that does things randomly. Every point you raised is proven wrong and are the direct result of the continued hoarding by the rich and elite as they focus on a quest for eternal profit. Fuck how many times do you see a story like “Profits shrink from 3Billion to 2.5 Billion this quarter” as if it’s a bad thing for the company. When I read “In 2 quarters this company made 5.5 billion dollars outside the operating costs of the company and refused to raise wages outside the executive level to focus on investor returns”

Get your head out of your ass and wake up to what’s going on around you. Notice the last time america had a bout of economic prosperity that affected the common man was the New Deal era and things have only gotten worse as over the years corporations have abused the powers they’ve built to defang the government and make it ineffective at basic worker protections while also buying up the media so the moment the idea that inflation means the minimum wage set decades ago needs to be assessed gets lambasted as the death of america via commie powered inflation on an article sourced by some group called “The free American society for a better tomorrow” that’s just a think tank run by the Koch Brothers or some other elite.

We must reframe the narratives/dialog.

#LanguageMatters

[elcorhamletlive]

fandom: MCU (non-powered AU) ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark tags: Fluff and Humor, Bad Flirting, Meet Ugly

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony slurs into his phone, trying to enunciate every word properly. “Yeah, I’m great.”

On the line, Happy doesn’t seem convinced – damn, Tony thought he had that sober speech on lock—and, to be honest, he shouldn’t be, because Tony is not great. Tony’s right outside of this sleazy, terribly expensive strip club Hammer decided to rent for the night, and he’s very much not sober. He knows that because, when he turns off the phone and rests his back against the wall and pretty much slips towards the floor, he has way less control of the movement than he thought he did, and his head slams against the wall painfully.

“Shit,” Tony says, blinking through white spots of pain. In a second a large, solid shadow looms over him. He looks up.

It’s an angel.

Okay, fine, it’s the club’s bouncer, who just dragged Tony out of the party when Hammer decided he wasn’t welcome anymore. But damn if the guy doesn’t look like an angel, with those azure eyes and blonde short hair and the prettiest mouth Tony’s ever seen.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice sounding sincerely worried. Tony doesn’t answer, too busy taking in the way the man’s muscles fill out that otherwise hideously cheap-looking suit—his shoulders just go on forever, incredibly broad and apparently fighting to break through the fabric of his jacket.

The man crosses his arms, and, well, his biceps are fighting to get free too, very determinedly. Tony is rooting for them.

Angel/Bouncer keeps looking at him, and Tony realizes that, oh, yeah, that was a question, and questions usually require answers.

“I’m doing great.” He opens his arms and gesticulates towards himself. “This is not even in the top fifty of most unexpected ways I finished an evening.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him, as if he’s going to say something. He ends up just nodding, though, clasping his hands together in front of his body and eyeing Tony attentively.

“What are you doing here?” Tony tries to mimick him by raising an eyebrow, but he’s not sure if he manages or if he just scrunches up his face.

“Working.”

“Wow. Not a man of many words, are you?” Tony straightens his posture where he sits, laying an elbow on his knee to watch the man carefully. “Though, coming to think of it, why would you be? With a face like that, who needs a dumb little thing like human language?”

The man flushes, which, wow. If Tony dies and goes to heaven and it turns out that’s not what angels look like, he’s asking for a transfer.

“Come ooon, cherub, talk to me.” Tony stretches out his leg, nudging the man with his foot. “What’s your name? Gabriel? Raphael? Uriel? You look like a Uriel.”

“Steve,” Angel/Bouncer (apparently now Steve) says. “Steve Rogers.”

“Wow, that’s a terrible name. You really should consider changing it to Uriel.” Tony searches his pocket for a cigarette before remembering he doesn’t smoke. “Say, Steve Rogers, you don’t happen to keep a flask on you with something nice and strong to warm you up during these night shifts, huh?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Oh, of course you don’t. And especially not during work, I can imagine.” Tony tilts his head to get a better look at Steve’s face. “Do you own knives at home? Because you don’t need them, with a jaw like this. Anyway. I bet you’ve never had a sip of alcohol during work in your life. You take your job super seriously, I figure, because that’s the only way anyone can put up with the likes of me and Hammer sober.”

Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, not a talker, we’ve established that. But I must warn you, talking is among the top three things I’m great at—number one is building stuff, and number three I’m gonna leave to your imagination.” He winks, enjoying the way Steve’s flush deepens. “God, you’re adorable. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, talking, yup, that’s my entire thing. I have a friend who tells me I say more words per minute than some people say during their whole lives. People like you, I imagine.” He nods in Steve’s general direction. “Point is, I’m gonna keep talking, so you might wanna head inside if you don’t want to hear it, sugar.”

Steve frowns. “I can’t just leave you out here.”

“Pretty sure you totally can, but this gentleman act is adorable, please keep it going.” Tony hugs his knees, resting his cheek on them as he turns his head to watch Steve. “Is that like, a thing you usually do? Look after the assholes they make you kick out?”

“You’re drunk.” Steve’s blue eyes find his, and his voice is firm when he says: “I’m gonna wait until your driver arrives.”

“God, that’s so—okay, I might swoon a little if you do that again, so let’s keep the noble act under control, ok?” He crosses his legs, the asphalt feeling cold through his pants. “Tell me about you. What do you do during daytime? Are you a model? You should consider modelling. Like, any type of modelling. I know what you’re thinking, and, yeah, definitely Calvin Klein, give them a call when you can – but, also, you could be the star of one of those motivational videos. Like, the guy who looks at the camera and talks about how important it is to have an exercise routine and healthy sleep? You’d be perfect for that. I’m looking at you now, and I already want to get my life together.”

Steve seems off-put, but then his lips curl into something that Tony vaguely recognizes as a repressed laugh.

“I’m serious. You could sell those green smoothies people post on Instagram. Or quinoa. I bet you like quinoa.”

“I hate quinoa,” Steve says, and Tony raises both of his eyebrows.

“That makes you ten times hotter,” he announces, and Steve’s flush deepens and his mouth curls further. “Also, no need to answer if you don’t want to, but, by any chance, are you gay? Because, I’m gonna be honest, this mouth of yours, it’s just, just, well, let’s be real, Steve, it was made to suck on something, and I’m not talking lollipops.” Steve’s eyes widen, and he lets out a shocked laugh. “Sorry, I’m kind of just thinking out loud, here. Am I making you uncomfortable? Feel free to pepper spray me at any moment.”

Steve laughs again. “No, it’s—It’s fine.”

“Great. Coming to think of it, you probably get this kind of thing all the time,” Tony makes a gesture towards where he thinks the door is, though he doesn’t look away from Steve to check. “Working here and all. No doubt some of those sleaze balls have tried to slip their numbers into your pocket. But you’re too nice to tell them off, just like you’re doing to me now. You’re such a nice guy, Steve. Also, by the way, when did your life go wrong?”

Steve’s laugh falters. “What?”

“Well, you’re working here, and you’re not a model despise looking like one, and you’re listening to me talk as if you’ve got nothing better to do, so I assume you don’t have anything interesting waiting for you at home. Besides, let’s be real, I doubt you dreamed of being a bouncer when you were little.”

Steve stays in silence for a moment, more serious than he’s been until now, until he answers: “I need money. To… to help a friend.”

“Oh, wow, how mysterious. Is your friend on the run from the law? Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“He needs a new prosthesis,” Steve says, and now his voice sounds colder.

“Oh. Oh wow.” Tony blinks at the sobering information. He’s definitely not in the right state of mind to look properly embarrassed, but that’s how he feels, deeply ashamed. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m rambling over here and making jokes like…” He drags a hand over his face. Christ, what is he doing? Sitting on the street, chatting up a guy who’s working, and now probably offending him, too. He can fix this. Tony takes a sharp breath. “Where does your friend live?”

“What?”

“Ok, come to think of it, you don’t need to tell me. Just tell him to drop by the nearest Stark store. Have the manager call me and I’ll make sure he gets one exemplar of our newest line.”

Steve seems startled, blue eyes blinking and mouth opening and closing very quickly. “You can’t—Uh, Mr. Stark, you don’t need—“

Tony raises a hand. “Seriously. I know it sounds like drunk talk, and, okay, technically it is drunk talk since I’m drunk and I’m, you know, talking, but I mean it. You don’t have to believe me, but at least tell your friend to give it a shot.”

Steve looks at him for a moment in silence, and Tony imagines he might still not be certain he’s serious. Well, whatever, Tony thinks. He will see it’s true if he tries. “We can’t afford any of your models.”

Tony makes a flippant gesture. “Consider it payment for not suing me for sexual harassment. And also, for your delightful company and this enriching talk we’re having.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twists upwards in a smile. “I haven’t really said much.”

“Exactly! My favorite type of talk.” Tony snaps his fingers and tries to finger gun at him, but the shape doesn’t come very naturally, so he’s pretty sure he just points two fingers randomly in Steve’s direction. “Plus, you’ve got a calming presence. You should be a yoga instructor.”

It might be the alcohol, but Tony sees a glimpse of cheekiness in Steve’s smile. “Do you think I’m flexible enough for that?”

“In my dreams you are, very much so, yes,” Tony answers immediately, and Steve laughs. “So, I’m here finding tons of new careers for you – model, life coach, yoga instructor -, but you haven’t told me what you do for a living yet.”

Steve eyes him for a moment, seeming to think.

“I teach.”

“Oh, my God.” Tony dramatically lays his hand on his chest. “No way. Like, in a classroom, wearing glasses, closing the door and going let’s see how much you want to improve those grades teaching?” Steve lets out another laugh that’s half shock and half amusement, and Tony likes it. “If you say you teach math, I might swoon.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Math turns you on?”

“Math is the hottest thing in the universe and should turn everybody on.”

“…Okay.” Steve stares at him with an amused smile. “I’m an art teacher. Only extracurricular classes, though. Mostly for kindergartens.”

“Oooh. So, no hot detention threats, then.” Tony tilts his head, giving him a thoughtful glance. “You’re an artist. You probably spend most of your time in your cluttered apartment that smells suspiciously herbal, agonizing over finding the perfect shading for your half-done painting that takes half of the room.”

“Yeah. Exactly. That’s exactly what I do.”

“On your breaks, you write poetry. Shirtless.”

“Yup. I also used to have dreadlocks, which I shaved off,” Steve deadpans. “You’ve never met a teacher, have you?”

“Not really. Please, enlighten me about your regular schedule.”

“There’s not much to tell. I teach my class three times a week. The rest of the time I spend setting up activities for the kids. I also draw for a couple small comics, but nothing that pays much. Most of the kids’ families aren’t very well-off. Sometimes they can’t afford to pay for a few months, so I take bouncer jobs when I need extra money.” Steve puts his hands in his pockets, shifting a little under Tony’s gaze. Tony gets the feeling he’s not used to being stared at, which, wow, talk about something unacceptable. “I share my apartment with the friend I told you about. I do most of the cleaning, Buck’s a slob.” He shrugs. “That’s pretty much it.”

“I’m just gonna imagine you doing all of that shirtless, too,” Tony says, mostly just to get Steve to smile again, which he does. Score. “So you work as a bouncer to get your friend a new prosthesis, and to teach impoverished children for free?” Saying it makes his heart rush, so he needs to add, in a lighter tone: “What else do you do, multiply bread?”

“Not really,” Steve says, not missing a beat. “But sometimes I draw political cartoons. One of them went viral last month, maybe you’ve seen it.”

It’s Tony’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t really spend my free time on twitter, sweetheart. What was it about?”

“Punching nazis.“

Tony nods. “Cheerful.”

“It’s an instruction manual on the right way to do it,” Steve adds, and he seems proud of himself. “How to close your fist properly so it doesn’t hurt your hand and etc.”

Tony laughs. Man, he thinks, shaking his head. Humanitarian artist by day, bouncer by night, fighter against fascism in his free time – Tony wonders, not for the first time this evening, if the man he’s talking to is actually real.

“That’s hot,” is all he manages to say. “I mean, it’s an important political stance, but also, it’s, well – it’s very hot.”

Steve smiles. “Thanks. What about you?”

“Me? Oh, well, regular stuff.” Tony waves a hand in the air. “Run a billion-dollar company, go to parties for complete jerks, get thrown out of said parties and chat up the bouncer – these sort of things.”

“Right,” Steve says, but he doesn’t seem fully satisfied. “You really annoyed Mr. Hammer.”

“Did I? I barely remember what I said. This will shock you, I’m sure, but I say a lot of things without thinking them through.”

“Well, you brought up his lawsuit right after he offered to buy you a round,” Steve says, not sounding at all disapproving. “Also, you kept calling him Jack.”

“Eh,” Tony shrugs. “Maybe if he paid his employees a tenth of what he spent just with strippers tonight, I’d bother remembering his name.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very tired. “I didn’t even want to come tonight. But Pep – she’s my P.A., so she kind of rules my life – said it’s important, that I need to keep good relations, especially now that we’re changing directions and yadda yadda.”

Steve looks at him with an expression Tony can’t quite figure out. “I read about that.”

“About the worst business decision of the decade? Yeah, you and the entire world.”

There’s a beat, and then Steve asks: “Do you regret it?”

“Not having any more dead people on my back? No, not at all,” Tony says immediately. It’s an easy answer. They could go bankrupt, and he still wouldn’t regret it. “The board freaked out, but, honestly, this doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, they need me to make the things they want to sell, and I’m not making weapons. I don’t care how much Dad loved them, I just won’t.”

Steve stays in silence for a moment. Then he turns towards Tony entirely, hands coming out of his pockets and hanging in fists at his sides. “I think it was a really brave thing to do.”

His eyes are incredibly blue, reflexing the dim light coming from the club’s windows, and, God, it’s like an attack of earnestness. Part of Tony wants to run away, and the other part wants to propose.

“Thank you?”

Steve smiles. Then he flushes, apparently realizing his strong reaction, and rubs the back of his neck. “So, why is your driver so late?”

“He’s not. He was supposed to come pick me up at three, and he’s probably catching up on his TV shows now, I don’t want to interrupt him.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “So you just sit here?” He takes his phone off his pocket. “It’s—it’s still two o’clock. You’re just going to… Sit here and wait until he comes?”

“Yeah? Sounded like a good idea, like, fifteen minutes ago,” Tony says. He yawns, his drunkenness apparently reaching its sleepy stage. His eyes feel very heavy. “No offense to our wonderful talk, but I think I might take a nap. I’d say feel free to come inside and do something more fun than standing here watching me snore, but by now I already know you’re too nice for that.”

Steve seems shocked for a moment, then he smiles slowly. “You really think that?”

“Um, yeah? I mean, come on. You're like an actual angel and you’re still somehow bashful about it. Your mean streak is apparently reserved for nazis. You’d stand there and watch over me to make sure nothing happens. Plus, you listened to me rant and hit on you endlessly, despite the fact that you probably meet about a dozen different guys exactly like me every day.”

Steve’s face softens. “No, I don’t,” he says, but it’s low enough that Tony thinks he might be imagining it.

“Anyway,” Tony yaws again, resting his back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Steve. Good talk.”

When Tony blinks his eyes open, the first thing he thinks is that he’s feeling great. Which is an unusual feeling to get after a night of drinking and sleeping on the sidewalk.

The second thing he thinks is that this is one hell of a comfortable sidewalk.

“Mr. Stark?” A voice calls. “Uh, Tony?”

He opens his eyes slowly, and realizes he’s not on the sidewalk anymore. He’s on a couch, a very comfortable one, with a very large and warm blanket – actually, it’s a jacket—over him.

A man—a very handsome man—is hovering over him.

“Uh, sorry to wake you up. It’s just, your driver is here.”

And then it hits him.

Wow, that’s a terrible name. Number three I’m gonna leave to your imagination. This mouth of yours, it’s just, just, well, let’s be real, Steve, it was made to suck on something. Math is the hottest thing in the universe. When did your life go wrong?

Tony drags a hand over his face, mind going through the litany of terribly embarrassing things he had said.

“Kill me,” Tony thinks aloud, and Steve raises his eyebrows. Tony turns around, doing his best to not stare at Steve’s face – Jesus, he talked about his mouth, that’s just… “Where am I?”

“In the break room,” Steve says, and that only makes Tony’s face flush with more embarrassment, because, God, Steve was working. He was having a regular night until Tony swooped in to be entirely inappropriate and freak him out. It’s an actual miracle, and a testament of Steve’s niceness, that Tony didn’t wake up in a police station with a restraining order.

Then Steve takes the jacket off him, slipping it over his own (very broad) shoulders.

It’s—It’s his jacket. That he gave Tony to keep him warm.

Tony’s face is burning.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, when Steve tries to help him stand. “God, I’m so – so, so sorry. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. That’s—shit, ok, I wish I could say that’s so unlike me, but it’s not unlike me at all, to be honest.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Still, you didn’t deserve that.

Steve just stares at him and then smiles. “It’s okay,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I had a nice time.”

He sounds so sincere Tony’s mental self-flagellating stops for a moment, and there’s a beat as they stare at each other, before Steve coughs.

“Uh, your driver,” he says, and Tony stands up suddenly.

“Of course.”

“Don’t forget your phone.” Steve turns to pick it from a table, handing it to him. “It fell out when I was carrying you.”

He probably means carrying Tony like one would regularly carry a drunk person (i.e. practically dragging them), but of course Tony’s stupid head has to imagine a bridal carry or something, and it feels like a bunch of engines twirl happily in his stomach. God, he’s pathetic.

“Right,” he says, taking the phone and placing it in his pocket. “Thank you, and, again, I’m so sorry.”

Steve nods, his face flushing strangely, but when Tony turns to leave, he grabs his arm.

“Actually, I’m—“ Steve stammers, seeming more nervous than he looked all night, even when Tony was waxing lyrical about his dick-sucking lips. “I might, uh, have programmed my number in there.”

It feels like the world shifts at Tony’s feet, for a moment. “What?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, smiling bashfully. “Like I said, I had a nice time. It was really fun.” His smile grows, and he shifts a little. “I’d really like to see you again. But, uh, if you think maybe that’s too forward—“

“Too forward? You think you may be being a little too forward?” Tony says incredulously, trying to fight the huge grin that’s threatening to slip out at every word. “Did you hear a single word I said last night?”

Steve laughs. His laugh sounds even more amazing when Tony can hear it without the mist of alcohol. “I liked hearing it,” he says, shrugging. Then his smile gains that cheekiness, and, damn, it might be the first time in his life Tony met someone who looks better without alcohol goggles. “Wouldn’t mind hearing some more.”

“Well,” Tony says, a little high-pitched and less suave than he’d like, but he doesn’t really care. He slides his hand into his pocket, playing with his phone, fiddling with it as if it’s the most interesting object in the world, because, with Steve’s number in it, it totally is. “I’m never one to refuse talking.”

Steve’s smile is large and brighter than the sun. “I figured.”

[felixcuz]

Make Me Wait

✧ Soulmate AU - fluff/angsty tones; gender neutral reader

✧ 2.8k words

✧ Once you turn 18, you switch bodies with your soulmate on New Years, but you’re going on 21 and still haven’t changed

✧ a/n: I was inspired by a prompt for soulmate AUs, so this happened

It was the Eve of a new year, the year of your 21st birthday. The start of another year without a sign of a soulmate connection and it was more disheartening than exciting. People were supposed to switch bodies with their soulmate on each New Year after they turn eighteen.

You’ve heard stories of people switching for up to a few hours, randomly transported to places they’ve never seen with people they don’t know. It was a strange phenomenon, especially as a bond. For most people, it also happened on their 18th year, sometimes 19th in rare occasions where there are age differences, but hardly ever this long.

You’ll be twenty-one soon, without any sign of your soulmate. Usually you wouldn’t care, since you were apprehensive of the assigned ‘mate’ anyway, but people tended to be judgmental towards those without soulmates. They would question and sometimes avoid you as if it were a disease. For you, it was less about what other people thought and more about the loneliness you felt.

You always felt whole growing up and valued yourself, knowing that if you loved yourself then it would be enough. As you got older you realized that wasn’t entirely enough and you craved the mutual understanding of someone on your wavelength. Someone you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to who could know how you feel as if it’s their own. Someone who shares the same ideals and loves as you. Who is loyal and cares for you unconditionally and not because they have to, but because they want to.

You sigh and lower the cup in your hand as you stare out from the rooftop of the high rise you’re currently standing on. Another New Years party ruined with your negativity, you mentally chide yourself. No wonder everyone seems to avoid you like the Plague.

You let your eyes wander around the rooftop, dimly lit with string lights messily strewn about, several chairs and loveseats that don’t match one another, and about fifty bodies gyrating to the music that was pumping from the speaker towers along the wall. You can’t help but reflect on how you ended up here.

For your 21st year you decided not to wait for fate and take it into your own hands. You thought if you could get out of your stuffy old town and into some place bigger that maybe you’d find people like you. Your dreams were always as big. So a few months ago that’s what you did. You shipped up to New York City, going from a town of less than ten thousand and without any streetlights, to one of the biggest cities in the world. Or at least that’s how it felt to you. It was on a whim and even though you knew you wanted to be here, you had no idea what you wanted to do.

You realized quickly that the money you’d saved in your teen years wouldn’t hold you over for long and you needed to find a roommate. Your sheltered life didn’t spare you from trust issues though, so you looked to the Internet for any college students around your age in the same situation.

You stumbled across a guy named Chris who had actually put an ad out for a roommate. He had an apartment that he once shared with a friend who was now moving out and he needed someone fast. New York living isn’t cheap.

The two of you had exchanged messages and asked to meet up and when you did, he was late. You still remember your frustration, it was his suggestion to meet at that place and time!

You looked at the time on your phone again, thirteen minutes past. Sighing, you stirred your hot chocolate slowly as you heard the door of the little cafe swing open to reveal a huffy and very sweaty man. He scanned the tables until his eyes landed on you and continued to heave his body until he was standing mere inches in front of you.

You looked up at the sloppy man with a glint of humour in your eye, keeping a straight face until he regained his composure. He dropped his hands to his knees and bent over, slightly wheezing for a minute and you had to hold back a chuckle.

Once he looked back up and straightened out his hair and clothes, you realized how handsome he was. Curly brown hair that fell naturally around his face, framing it with his strong jaw and nose and oh my god was that a dimple?

He beamed at you sheepishly and you had to crack a smile, gesturing for him to sit on the stool across from you.

He apologized as he introduced himself and practically begged you to take his offer, since rent was due in the next week and he didn’t have it, again. You had already decided you would, but you continued to talk and learn more about him before you admit that to him. The relief was visible as his broad shoulders seemed to relax at your acceptance.

“Oh thank God, I can’t afford to lose this place, my parents would kill me if they found out I moved from Australia for this.”

Within a day you had already moved in to the apartment. Chris helped you with the few boxes you had and showed you around. It was a rather upscale building outside of Manhattan. Once you saw the apartment you understood why he would lose this place on his own. It was nicer than anything you’d ever seen before, polished hardwood floors across the rather large living area, met by ceiling to floor windows that offered a scene of the whole city. There were three bedrooms, Chris’s, yours, and what Chris called his “studio.”

He was a musician and made music with two of his other friends in a “moderately popular group” he had once boasted. He said this building offered him the “creative freedom” he needed, which basically meant he didn’t have to worry about the volume level all the time. His floor was just below the rooftop, which he also occupied much of the time.

As you looked out onto the unforgiving city below, you couldn’t help but feel as though it’s shown you mercy this time.

You had also come to the conclusion that Chris was a vampire in the few months of living there, as he would be up all hours of the night in his studio. Living with him was amazing, despite his odd habits, and you quickly became close friends.

Along with that, you met his friends at the shows and parties he would have every so often. His friends were just ask quirky as him and you connected with them easily.

Within just a few months, you already had a new life for yourself. You were in a gorgeous city with a great job doing what you love and living with your amazing best friend. What more could you ask for?

You tried to tell yourself “nothing” and be content, but your soul still felt restless. There was still something missing.

That thought brought you back to where you are now, staring at your crazy best friend as he danced with his soulmate. You looked around to your other friends and saw them with their own soulmates, smiling lightly and dancing with no worry in their bodies. You wanted to be in that too. You wanted to feel that carefreeness and just live but something always held you back.

The music slowed to a stop and you heard Chris clear his throat through the mic of the set up from his group’s performance earlier.

“Ladies and gents, grab a drink and grab someone, we are one minute to New Years!” to which everyone cheered.

You pulled yourself from your wallflower position and joined the crowd at the back, silently counting along as everyone shouted the numbers.

Bodies collided with one another as everyone held their friends and loves close, your friend Jisung waving at you and motioning you over.

You smiled and stepped a few feet closer to him before stopping, not wanting to engulf yourself in the crowd completely.

Jisung laughed and stretched his arm out to clink his glass with yours in cheers, shouting you New Years wishes. You returned them to him and his partner beside him, then moved your attention to Chris on the mini stage. He brought up his partner with him as they counted down the last half.

You let your eyes wander away back to the lights of the city around you, hearing music and shouts from other people celebrating below. You wondered where your soulmate was or what they were doing tonight. Or if they even existed.

Your eyes fell downward for a second before you decided not to let another year go to waste. What has turned into the best year of your life and offered you so many new blessings will not be ruined by something you can’t control.

Your eyes found Chris’s and he held up his drink to you, giving you that goofy smile you love as he counts down from ten. You could feel tension start to leave your shoulders as you dropped all care for anything outside of that moment.

“Five! Four!”

You let your eyes close as you raise your glass.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Your hearing was muffled for a second at all the noise. You smiled and opened your eyes to find that you were a few feet away from where you were next to Jisung, back near the wall you had moped at all night. That’s odd. When did you move?

You made your way through the crowd to find Chris and wish him and his partner New Years. When you got to him his eyes widened at you.

“What are you doing here, mate! I thought you couldn’t make it!”

You chuckled and gave him a side eye before going to speak, “what are you on about, you...” You trailed off at the deepest voice you’d ever heard, coming from you.

You looked down at your hands, then body, finding slightly more masculine hands and an outfit you definitely weren’t wearing an hour ago.

Your mind started spinning as you looked back up to Chris, to which he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if you were feeling okay.

Regaining your balance, you shut your eyes and thought for a second before it hit you.

Your head shot up, scaring Chris and making him jump before you scanned the rooftop wildly. In the same spot you were standing earlier in the night, was you. Your body.

Chills ran through your, or this person’s, body as you made slow, clear strides toward that direction. They were stood looking down at your body, closely examining your arms and hands and the small tattoos that adorned them.

When you reached your body you carefully tapped your shoulder, which sent a shock through the body you were in. You looked up quickly and both of your eyes went wide. You stared into your own eyes for what must have been minutes before whoever was in your body spoke up.

“I.. You’re here... in the same place.”

Your brows knit together as you looked at yourself, this person, “You’re real.” You heard your laugh.

“Of course I am, it doesn’t get much realer than this,” they giggled, gesturing to your body.

Your mind buzzed in confusion, everything else faded away as you tried to figure the how and why. You spoke, shocked by the deep voice of the stranger you possessed, “Why now? Why did it take so long? I thought you weren’t...”

Your question trailed off and they spoke up, “I wasn’t what, alive? That you didn’t have one?”

Your eyes met theirs, your own, and they giggled once again.

“I just turned eighteen this year,” they said. It was the first time you had ever heard your voice in an Australian accent, something you always tried with Chris but couldn’t do.

Your eyes widened and you suddenly felt shy, unable to hold eye contact any longer. It had never occurred to you that they might be years younger. It was beyond rare.

“That must have caused a lot of stress for you,” they continued with a soft smile, “would you like to go some place a bit more quiet?”

It was then you noticed the heavy bass of the music that had started again and the chatter from the party.

You nodded and stared at your body expectantly. They giggled again at your frozen state.

“I believe you’re the one who lives here.”

You snapped up and averted your eyes once again.

“Oh! Yeah, my apartment is downstairs,” you said softly as you turned to hide your probably red face, or rather their face.

You could hear them following behind as you descended and pressed the key code to your apartment door. It was mostly silent in the room save for the muffled music from above. You had wondered and worried about this situation all your life and now that you were here you weren’t sure what to do.

They walked over to the large windows and you observed your body from the back, something you never thought you’d experience. You found yourself walking closer but your mouth wouldn’t move.

“I’m from Australia. I was best friends with Chris before he moved here. I still am, but because I’m a bit younger I only got to see him a few times over the years. My name is Felix.”

So that’s why Chris said that to you, or to him, you now know.

“Now that I’ve turned eighteen, I decided to join him and go to school here. I was just visiting for the holidays, I definitely wasn’t expecting this,” he said softly.

I turned to him, realizing I haven’t said anything helpful since we met.

“I’m ___. I moved in with Chris recently to get a new start here,” you said as you leaned toward him. He smiled and extended a hand toward you, “Wonderful to meet you ___, and Happy New Year.”

You reached a hand to meet his, or yours, and felt chills run through you again as a bright flash appeared in your mind causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

When the ache subsided, you opened them again and saw the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen on any person ever.

He had slightly lighter brown hair swept back to show his forehead and eyes which seemed to shine even in the dim light of the room. His features were soft yet handsome, full pink lips pulled into a small smile and a cute button nose. In the dark you could see freckles dusted across his cheeks and nose and you swear you felt your heart turn in your chest. You had to look up at him slightly, and he was looking down at you with the same admiration.

Meeting his eyes finally, your face went hot and you turned back to the window. How dare this boy be so pretty. It made you nervous and a bit self-conscious.

Did he think you were average? What if he thought you were old?

As if he sensed all your worry, he stepped to the side so his arm pressed against yours, facing out to the sparkling city as he spoke.

“You’re breathtaking. How lucky am I to have such a person as my soulmate.”

Your heart skipped at the term and the compliment, cheeks even pinker than before.

He let his fingers meet yours and waited to see if you’d pull away, slowly lacing your fingers together at your stillness.

There was a silent understanding between the two of you and you could feel warmth radiate in your soul from the touch of his hand.

How can I feel so whole? Your mind couldn’t help but wonder.

As if on cue, he squeezed your hand gently and turned to face you.

“I’m sorry I made you wait, and I hope you don’t mind that I’m a bit younger. It doesn’t bother me but I understand if you’re-“

You cut him off and smiled brightly, “for you, I could wait forever.”

It was his turn to blush at your words and you swear you’ve never seen anything more precious. You giggled at his shyness and looked up at the clock, suddenly remembering your surroundings.

12:22.

You tugged at his hand as you began to make your way back up to the roof. He giggled and followed to join you and your friends.

Chris found the two of you and smiled although he was confused, he wouldn’t question it until later, happy to see his two best friends together.

The party has only just begun, along with a beautiful year of opportunity for you and your newfound soulmate, and you weren’t going to miss it this time.

[avengerscompound]

Swipe Right - Chapter 3

Swipe Right: A Captain America Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous | Next For your POV

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2100ish

Warnings:  None for this chapter.

Synopsis:   Steve comes to your house to cook and watch movies on your second date.

A/N:  Re-uploading from @emilyevanston.  

THERE ARE IMAGES IN THIS FIC THAT ARE ESSENTIAL TO THE STORY.

Chapter 3

Steve felt like he was walking on air on his way back down to the subway station.  He had really enjoyed spending time with you and the thought of a casual dinner at home with you without all the eyes sounded perfect.  He made it down the stairs to the platform just as the train pulled away.  That was not nearly enough to change his mood.

He did wonder about the kiss.  He was glad you’d kissed his cheek, but he still kept thinking he should have gone for more.  That things were different now.  That he had to stop taking to long to make a move on people.  He pulled out his phone as he waited and texted you.

Those few words made a wave of relief wash over him.  You trusted him to trust himself.  You’d just taken the pressure off.  If he needed to go slow you would be there setting the pace with him.

Something shifted between the two of you too as you spoke for the next week.  Along with the usual comfort you had together through the screen there was now a buzz.  An excitement that this could be more.  That it was real.  There was an excitement about taking what seemed to be there through the screen and bringing it into the real world.

Often conversion turned to the upcoming date.  It was on both of your minds a lot and Steve really enjoyed stripping off his uniform at the end of the day and just going through plans with you. It set his mind at ease and gave him something to look forward to.  Food plans were made and you settled on watching a movie.  He had told you to choose a film.  He was interested to see what you would settle on.  It would be a good way of seeing the person you were, and how you saw him.

You spoke about other plans too.  Each conversation increased Steve’s excitement.

Steve pondered the question.  He pictured the two of you together cooking and he liked the way it felt.  He’d never really gotten the hang of cooking though.  Food was scarce growing up and cooking involved boiling.  The fact there was a cafeteria at the tower saved him a lot of effort.

Steve smiled at his phone, loving that you had the options already thought out like that.  That you wanted him to be as comfortable as he could be in your home.

He laughed at your teasing.  He liked the playful undertone.  For the first time in a long time, his mind actually flicked to sex in a way that wasn’t just abstract.  He imagined kissing you up against the kitchen bench and something else stirred in him.  Something he had thought had died with him in the ice.

He stared at his phone for a moment with a smile on his face before putting it away.  When he looked up he realized that Sam had been staring at him the whole time.

“Damn, you have it bad.”  He teased.

Steve nodded.  “I’m not even going to argue with you.  I really like this woman.”

“I’m really glad man.  Just… and I can’t believe I’m the one suggesting this, but don’t rush.  You still have to get to know each other in person.”  Sam said getting up and patting Steve on the shoulder.

On the day of the date, he went out to a nearby bakery to buy dessert.  He settled on a chocolate babka and on the way home he passed a florist.  He looked at the different bouquets and settled on one of daisies dotted with brightly colored pom-pom chrysanthemum.  He liked how it looked a little wild yet innocent.

After work, he showered and dressed and grabbed the dessert, wine, and flowers before texting you.

He felt his face flush.  There was something about you that made him blush a lot.  If it was anyone else he’d hate it.  There was no way Tony would let him get away with bushing.  With you though, he wasn’t bothered at all.

It took him about half an hour to get there and when you answered your door you smiled brightly up at him.  Wow, these are beautiful.”  You said taking them.  “Let me just go find something to put them in.”

He followed you into your apartment and took in your room.  You’d obviously cleaned.  A lot.  He took in your photos and knickknacks.  The rug you had over your couch.  The way you’d laid out your room.  Each thing telling him a little more about you.  “Your place is really nice,”  Steve said following you inside.  “Do you rent?”

You laughed.  “Yes.  Who can afford to own in New York?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised people can afford to rent in New York,”  Steve replied.

He watched you dig around in your cupboard and pull out a glass.  You added water to it and put the flowers inside, before putting the glass on the window sill.  You turned back to him and grinned.  “Okay.  So.  I already did the rice because it’s supposed to be cool.  And I fried some egg.  Now we just have to cut things up and try and assemble them.”

“Alright, show me what to do,”  Steve said, rolling up his sleeves.

Steve really enjoyed assembling the sushi with you despite the fact he couldn’t seem to get it to work.  The chopping bit was fine.  He was good with a blade after all.  It was rolling them that didn’t seem to work.  They wouldn’t stick and as soon as he unrolled the mat they just unwound with it.

“I really have no idea what I’m doing wrong.”  He said looking at you for help.

You started giggling.   There was something about the sound that made him feel like this was exactly how it should be.  Just having fun and not taking it seriously.  “It’s fine.  Really.  Look.”  You said pulling his chopping board over.  You grabbed your knife and chopped everything up so it was just a complete mess of ingredients and then scooped them into a bowl.  “There you go.  Now it’s just a rice bowl.  It’ll still taste good.”

Steve laughed, though he could feel his face flush a little again.  “Tasting good is the most important part I suppose.”

“Here,”  You said, picking up one of your wonky Maki Rolls and raising it to his lips.  He opened his mouth ready for you to put it in and you shoved the whole thing inside.  He made an exaggerated choking sound and you both broke down in laughter.

“Mmm… good.”  He said through his still full mouth.  It was true though.  Even though they were wonky it tasted good.

“Okay.  Let’s take what we have and go watch the movie.”  You said.

He nodded and helped you gather everything up.  As you lay things out on the coffee table Steve poured you both a glass of wine.  “So what are we watching?”

“I have three options.  Two classics.  One I just haven’t seen so it’s a risk.  First up, this is an animation from my childhood.”  You said handing him your copy of the Last Unicorn.  “Here we have a musical I thought you might like.”  You said putting a copy of Into The Woods on top of the first one.  “And finally, we have Rampage.  Which is based on a video game where you play as a monster and smash building and eat people.   It has the Rock in it.  I have no idea if it’s good or not.”

Steve took it and added it to his small pile.  Flicking from one to the next.  He was really mostly tempted to watch the two older movies to see what it was you had chosen specifically to show him.  In the end, the call of the musical won.  He always liked a musical.   “How about the musical?”  He said handing you ‘Into the Woods’.

“Fine choice.”  You said getting up and putting the disk into the machine.

You watched the first half of the movie sitting side by side and making your way through your meal.  The second half you sat cross-legged beside him as he lounged back more into the couch.  You both randomly tore pieces of Babka off and ate them, or topped up each other's wine glass.  He could tell you were getting tipsy and for the first time in a long time regretted that the alcohol had no effect on him.  He liked the movie though.  It was modern and funny while calling back to more classic stories.  He liked the humor in it and the spin on the old stories.  He loved the quote ‘Nice is different to good’ particularly.

“I really liked that,”  Steve said moving to tidy things up with you as the credits to the movie started.  “Good choice.  Now I'm interested to see what the one that was a childhood favorite was.”

“Well, it’s still relatively early if you wanted to make this a movie marathon.”  You suggested.

He smiled at you.  He was glad for the offer.  He wasn’t at all ready to end the night.  “I would love that.”

The two of you settled back onto the couch and put on ‘The Last Unicorn’.  Once again Steve relaxed back into the couch and you sat with your legs tucked up beside you.  As it moved on it was like there was a magnetic pull between you and you ended up curled into his side with his arm around you.  It felt good. He loved the way you felt nestled into his side.  Warm and soft against him.

As the movie ended he gave you a little squeeze before stretching.  “God, that was sad.  You really watched that as a kid?”

“Sure did.  It has a happy enough ending.”  You said.

“Being the last of your kind is very real, let me tell you,”  Steve said.  He’d tried to make it in an offhand way but realized there was a dark undercurrent to the words as they left his mouth.

You looked up at him and smiled.  “Well, maybe you’ll find them again too.”

“Getting there.”  He agreed.  He stretched again and sat forward.  “I should probably get going.”

You nodded and stood and he got up behind you.  “Thank you for coming.”  You said as you walked him to the door.

“Thank you for having me,”  Steve said.  He turned to you at the door and smiled.  “I had a really good time.  We should do it again soon.”

“I would love that.”  You agreed.

He looked down at you.  The darkness he’d just brought to the surface seemed to take away the moment and he didn’t feel right kissing you now though even half an hour earlier it would have been perfect.  He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

“Good choice.”  You teased running your hand along his forearm.

“Thank you.”  He said, blushing yet again.  Once again your reassurance making him feel much better about it.  “Good night.”

“Night, Steve.  Text me when you get home.”  You said.

He headed to the stairs feeling better already, he turned back and smiled at you.  “I’ll text you on the train.”

[peacefulwriter88]

One That Got Away - Chapter 1

Steve Rogers X OFC Ariadne Bellamy

A/N: Okay. So I have literally been working on this story for about two months now which is why I’ve been MIA on my writing for this site. I wanted to write something that spoke to Steve Rogers and explored him beyond a sweet and broken boy because I find him fascinating. I wanted to play around with an OFC and I wanted to explore the Marvel Cinematic Universe in a way that spoke to the movies but also hit the helm for comics. I wanted to explore other Marvel characters in ways we don’t get to see and I wanted to have fun. 

So this is what the end result is. Its going to be about 30 chapters....I’m 20 in and I’m hoping to post pretty frequently. Please leave your thoughts, feedback, etc. Thank you @geminimoonbeamx​ for betaing this and helping me create this universe - I sincerely hope you all enjoy! 

Universe: Marvel Canon

Rating: M for Mature (Language, Sexual tones eventual) 

“In this story

I am the poet

You’re the poetry.”

-Arzum Uzun

                                 Chapter 1 - The Clash

It was purely accidentally, him and I. That’s what I always fall on whenever I reflect back on the circumstances that led up to where I stood now, a bouquet of flowers in hand as I waited patiently to walk down the petaled aisle.

It wasn’t Disney Hollywood romance that brought us together. I didn’t meet him at a fancy dinner and he didn’t save my life. It wasn’t a meet cute out in a park or randomly through a friend.

It was just pure random chance.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The promise of good real estate had lulled me and my best friend, Ellie Novak, out of the warmth of our beds and into the blistery, fall streets of Brooklyn that morning about two years ago. It had only taken us the course of ten minutes to realize that it was a scam, that the large brownstone being rented out was far beyond our paychecks, and that we were now stuck having to hear the Native American women speak persuasively on why this home was the one.

“For only $4,800, you and a lucky roommate can enjoy top of the line amenities just yards away from a subway line, in an up and rising neighborhood with plenty to do on the weekend….”

Ellie’s nibbling on the shared scone we’ve picked up from the Polish deli we’d passed on the way here, her eyes flickering from me back to the women who continued to audaciously drone on about the overpriced property and me, begging to leave. Ellie has the kind of eyes that make you want to give in to her at the drop of a dime, large round irises accentuated by her long thick lashes that were still coated by mascara from the night before. I was looking for an out, feeling claustrophobic, annoyed and so fucking hungover. My head was beating and my body was begging for something greasy to eat up the poor decisions from the night before.

Ellie and I stood out in this crowd though, my coffee skin a contrast to Ellie’s light tawny shade and though our brown leather jackets and matching boots complimented the buns we’d pulled on top of our heads, we still stood out among the sea of white. I was falling into the insecurity of not belonging in a city I always belonged in, and I sigh as I tried to find a quick exit strategy, perhaps when we started touring the place. My eyes were panning the size of the room when they had landed on him.  

It was odd, seeing him out of the star spangled uniform I was accustomed to seeing on the nightly news. He had a blue NY baseball cap and a blue bomber jacket paired with a white t-shirt and was sipping the same cheap coffee Ellie and I were. He was standing beside a black guy who guffawed when the real estate agent kept listing off expensive expense after the other, nudging the handsome blonde and shaking his head.

Steven Grant Rogers, Mr. Captain America himself.  

“Ellie….” I was trying my best to keep my cool, trying not to crumble into myself from becoming star struck. I nudge Ellie, probably harder than I needed to and she hums , turning toward me with tired irises as she mouths,

“What?”

“Look to my left.” I mouth back, nodding my head in his direction and she rolls her eyes, looking beyond me I’m sure to not be impressed by a cutie I was wasting her time with. Then she freezes, her body stiffening as she becomes familiar with the face and her eyes immediately return back to her as she whispers,

“Is that...?”

“Yes.” It comes out as a low squeak as I return my attention back to the real estate agent.

“Go say hi!” her voice automatically goes octaves higher, no longer bored which causes me to shake my head adamantly.  

“No. Way.”

“What? Why!?” she’s taken off guard as she shifts her body toward me, no disregard to the people sandwiched around us who are quick to throw us glances of annoyance.

“No fucking way.” I repeat, not looking at her and I could feel her shift, her arms crossing as she looks at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You had no problem walking up to Jake Gyllenhaal on the subway a few months ago.”

I roll my eyes, taking a sip of the long neglected coffee I’d been using to keep hands warm, welcoming the bitter flavor against my tongue.   

“He dropped his wallet.”

“Yea and you also had a torrid love affair with him.” the bitterness still crept around each word and I can’t help but snort underneath my chuckle.

“Fucking a celebrity in a bathroom at a restaurant he takes you too isn’t a torrid love affair. It’s a reminder from whatever entity that sometimes you get rewarded for good karma.”

Another loud huff.

“Go say hi! That way I can say hi. Also, pretty sure that dude he’s with is the Falcon. You know how I adore the Avengers. Please.”

Her voice is doing that soft, whiney thing, a tone that only comes out when she really wants something and doesn’t want to go through doing it herself. Doesn’t persuade me enough on this particular morning. Instead it drives what feels like nails into my head and I turn my attention back to the real estate agent as I say crisply again,  

“No. Let’s leave him alone; I’m sure he’s grateful no one has noticed him and wants to keep it that way. Even superheroes enjoy the gift of privacy, probably more than us normal folk.”

Not good enough. Ellie pouts again, this time jutting her bottom lip out and pushes. Again,

“Ariadne….”

“NO!”

I normally wasn’t this impatient, normally could have kindly convinced Ellie that I didn’t want to fulfill her celebrity fancy that morning. That instead, I’d much rather just leave and grab some food and return to my bedroom to force the demons that lingered from tequila and rum being mixed together to free themselves of my mind.

The hangover had won; however, so Ellie got annoyed frustrated Ariadne. And not just Ellie. Oh no, at this point I had captured the attention of everyone in that small, overpriced living room, including Captain America. His amused eyes watch mine and I can’t handle it; its too much after a long week, an early morning.

The real estate agent isn’t as amused by my sudden outburst however, and isn’t afraid to clear her voice and ask,

“I’m sorry – was there something you wanted to say?”

It felt like a teacher mocking me, calling me out for doing something in her class that she didn’t like and I sigh, shaking my head. I didn’t want to cause any more unnecessary drama that had already been started,

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

She looks at me skeptically and I shrug. I was over it, Ellie was over it and from what I could tell by most of these faces so was most of everybody else,

“Actually, there is one thing.”

The woman looks at me, raising an eye. Inviting me for my feedback,

“I think its bullshit that you market yourself as affordable housing for working class individuals but really it’s just another fucking real estate scheme to see how many humans you can fit in one brownstone. This place is way overpriced for what it's offering and I’m over listening to your systematic lies. And I’m sure everyone else here is too. So adieu and good day.”

The real estate agent scoffs as I grab Ellie’s arm and drag her through the crowd, ignoring the low whistles and claps that erupts.

“I don’t believe you did that?” she murmurs as we enter back into the cold and I shrug as I zip up my leather jacket.

“You wanted an out.” I say and she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“No! I don’t believe you didn’t say hello to Steve Rogers aka Captain America. Never thought I’d see the day you’d pussy out.”

“Unfucking believable. That is what you gathered from that whole thing?” the exasperation drips in my voice and she shrugs, her eyes flitting from the brownstone back to me.

“Listen, I was reading the stars last night and the universe has something monumental in store for you. And as a result me. So help me help you fulfill said destiny.”

I scoff as I look down at her, skeptical eyes drinking her in.

“You think that whatever fate you read from the stars last night – while high on marijuana I might add – is that I am supposed to hook up with Captain America?”

She gives a confident nod, never breaking her eye contact as she nimbly puts on her gloves.

“Précisément.” She says happily and I snort as stuff my hands into my pocket, moving down the block.  

“Whatever….I’m too hungover and also I think I’m suffering from being star struck? Either way I couldn’t think of something witty to say to him. Do I go up to him and say, ‘What’s a guy like you doing in an expensive Open House like this?’”

Ellie’s short frame has mastered keeping up with my longer legs as we move down the street and she nods her head and smiles.

“Yes!”

“No way. I’m not that smooth Ellie. Honestly, sometimes it’s just dumb luck and it naturally happens but if it doesn’t I don’t want to force it. And while I’d have loved a rendezvous with the cap, it didn’t feel right and I’m not about forcing stuff that doesn’t feel right”

She sighs and nods, pulling out her phone and looking at the time. We allow the silence to fall between us, her acceptance of my uncomfortable attitude and knowing that she would have to drop it for now. It isn’t until we make it down the next block that I suggest,

“Well since we’re already out we might as well get breakfast.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, leaving me with the sounds of Brooklyn traffic. Then she’s giving me a little nudge, a small smile creeping on her face as she softly says,

“I mean, Dover’s is on the part of the island. And they do make the best French Toast…”

I flash her a smile as I nudge her back, throwing my arm over her plush shoulders a squeeze.

“Let’s get it my treat. C’mon, for ruining your Instagram perfect pic with the Cap.”

She laughs as she pushes me away,

“Cap’s more your type but how I can pass up a free breakfast?”

Dover’s is….an acquired taste. When you walk in, perhaps for just a second you might debate if this is the kind of establishment you want to invest $10-15 dollars in. It has dim lighting all the time, despite all the open windows. A bar that’s been stained with evidence of the past since probably Steve Rogers was born and sticky floors that stuck to the soles of your shoes no matter what you wore. It had a juke box but that had been broken since my dad used to take me here as a kid and typically has one or two of the same guys who linger over the bar counter with the same pint of beer that makes you question if you’re caught in a time loop.

It was the best kind of dive bar and restaurant because of it though and despite the questioning look of the décor, the food was greasy and delicious and perfect for any hangover that you were trying to ward off.

Margy was a waitress that had worked there all of her life, had the same curled bob and the same dyed bright red hair and skin that smelled of cigarettes and flora. She smiled at us now, a coffee pot in her hand as we flipped over the cheap porcelain cups for her to pour the rich, bitter drink into.

“You ladies are here a bit later than usual.”

She has a thick Irish that’s also been influenced by her upstate upbringing and I smile up at her, shaking my head and shrugging.

“We tried to go to this Open House on the island. Guess how much rent is per month?”

This time she snorts, shaking her head.

“Probably as much as I see in three months.”

“Nearly $5,000. What the hell does that even mean for my life goals?” Ellie say, her hands automatically going through the motions of reaching for the crème and sugar to dump into her coffee.

“Means this island, just like this country, is going to shit.” Margy sighs, shaking her head before she smiles and says,

“Neither here are there tho. So are you ladies going to have the usual?”

“You. Know. It.” Ellie says, before taking another sip of her coffee. Margy nods, taking away our menus and walking away as I grab the container of sugar, pouring just a spoonful before stirring it into the dark drink.

“Still confuses me how you drink that stuff black.”

“I add sugar sometimes. Like just now.” I remind her and she shakes her head.

“It’s so gross. A little bit of crème never hurts anybody.” She smiles into her steaming cup, sipping more of it. Ellie never really drank coffee, mainly because it was the perfect accelerator to the anxiety that she kept contained in her beautiful, plush body. There were occasions, however, when she would allow herself the small treat and when she did she made it as sweet as her personality. She claimed it was because the crème and sugar fought off all the extra caffeine and I would argue back she was just addicted to the idea of coffee.

Either way, she hated that I drank coffee without too much of the like. Mainly because I also suffered from anxiety and she was typically the one who had to deal with the after effects of it.

“Are we using coffee to reflect our personalities this morning?” I say again, trying to deflect any form of a real argument from emerging. “How much fucking alcohol did you drink at Nicole’s last night? First my future written by the stars and now a lecture on the effects of coffee.” I tease and she furrow’s her eyebrows together, sticking her tongue out before taking another sip.

I’m about to bring something up – I don’t remember because that detail stopped being important the moment Ellie’s eyes change into large, hazel saucers that is quickly followed by her ducking her already small body further into the booth.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” She whispers and I raise a brow as she looks back up behind me before resuming her previous position.

“What?” I ask confused, not amused enough to turn my head realizing that I’ve left the glass of water Margy had placed in front of us go unattended.

“Ohhhhhh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“What? Is Alex here? Oh my god please let it be Alex. I’ve been dying to cuss him out…he’s such a shit for ghosting you last night…” I turn my head at the door, my eyes surveying the half busy restaurant before my heart stops, the grip around my coffee cup tightening.

Staring right back at me was no other than Steve Grant Rogers himself.

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