#twenty-first century entertainment

[welshaphrodite]

I think the saddest character in the Hunger Games franchise is Mags Flanagan. She is as almost as old as the Games themselves. She won the 11th Hunger Games. Then, for the entirety of her life, for over 60 years, she was forced to relieve that same trauma year after year, trying to train kids, save kids, just like herself. Over time Mags watched the Games get more brutal, more “entertaining”. She watched her community sacrifice two children over and over again. There is nothing Mags can do but bare it. She desensitizes herself. She reaches her 80s. She is old and almost free of the pain; the trauma has formed a callous. But Mags will continue to work until she dies. This is all she has ever known. 

Then, the 75th Quarter Quell is announced and Mags is back on the stage for the first time in 60 years. A reaping outfit. Her name in a glass bowl. The tension, the dread, the silence before the reading of the name -- Annie Cresta. But to Mags, it never mattered the name that was picked. She knew her hand was going up. And for the first time since she was a child, she is back in the Games. 

During her the 11th Hunger Games, Mags was caged in the zoo with the other tributes. This time, she is presented with a gorgeous suite, the best food the Capitol has to offer, and the finest clothes. The 11th Hunger Games were televised on a blurry screen; now, all of Panem is going to watch her every move. Mags knows she isn’t going to win. But, as she spends the last weeks of her life walking in the shoes of every child she couldn’t save, as the trauma of her own Games is as alive and present as it has ever been, she knows that, for the first time in her long life, she was able to truly save at least one person from this fate. 

Hope is a funny thing. Mags picked apart the Capitol’s logic and the heart of the Games long ago. She knows why they allow one victor, and how every tribute goes into the arena hoping its them. She knows this is unrealistic; all of Panem knows that only one will come out alive. But even as she rises into the ticking clock of the arena, that stubborn feeling flutters in her chest. Maybe she will get out of there with the rest of the rebels. But if not --

Mags looks to Johanna. To Katniss and Peeta. To Finnick. Her hope for them is stronger, steadier, than the hope for her own self-preservation. She looks into the cornucopia of weapons, the familiar ring of twenty-four tributes, and allows herself to dream that maybe, maybe, this is it. This will be the last one. 

For the first time in over half a century, Mags won’t be watching the Games from the comfort and safety of a faraway room. This time, she has the chance to help directly. To be able to protect others with more than just a parachute full of supplies. To have the ability to save another life. To save multiple lives. To save all the future children of Panem. 

The gong sounds.

Mags smiles. 

She dives into the water. 

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 2

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The Recovery Period

When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.

The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.

Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.

And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.

Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.

After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.

He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.

You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.

“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”

You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”

“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”

“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”

“And you were going to do that part, too?”

“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”

“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”

“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”

“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”

“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”

“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.

Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.

“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”

“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.

“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.

“Oh I’m sure we can.”

It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.

You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”

“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”

“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”

“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”

Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.

“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.

“I don’t even know what those are.”

“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”

“What’s that look for?”

“You will find out in two to three business days.”

***

By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.

“Don’t tell Steve.”

“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.

“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.

“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.

“Sorry!” The attacker replied.

And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.

The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.

Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.

“Hey.”

“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.

“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.

“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”

“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.

“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table. 

His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”

“Amazon.”

“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.

“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.

“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”

Catch Me Now

Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.

Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.

This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.

“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”

You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.

So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.

The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.

“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”

“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.

“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”

“Oh, sure. What movies?”

“The Hunger Games.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”

“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”

“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”

“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.

You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.

“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.

“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.

He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.

You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.

“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.

“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”

“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”

“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”

“What would you choose?”

“What name?”

“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”

“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”

“It is. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”

“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”

“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”

“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”

“Absolutely.” You nodded.

Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.

“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.

He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”

“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”

“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”

“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.

“So, what’s our cover?”

“What?”

“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”

“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”

“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”

Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.

“Look at this! They’re so big now.”

You laughed. “How big were they before?”

“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”

“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.

Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”

“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.

He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”

You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

“Got a long day ahead of us.”

“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.

“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.

The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.

Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.

“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.

“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”

“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.

You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.

“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.

“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.

Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”

He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”

“You’ve gotta go slow.”

“Lesson learned.”

The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.

***

Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat. 

“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.

“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”

“There are books?”

“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”

“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”

“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”

Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”

The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.

You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.

By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.

“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.

“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.

Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.

***

At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.

“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”

“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”

“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”

He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”

He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.

“Fun time?” He asked.

“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.

Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself. 

“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”

“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.

Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”

“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”

Mr. Perfectly Fine

You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.

Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.

Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.

You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.

Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.

And god, did it hurt.

You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.

“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.

You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.

“Am I?”

“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”

“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”

“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”

“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”

“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”

“Oh. Need to talk about it?”

“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”

Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.

“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”

“What? How’d you—?”

“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”

“Embarrassing.”

“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”

“The second of those options, yeah.”

She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”

“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”

So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.

Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.

“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.

Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.

“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”

“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.

“The opposite.”

“Then why are you all torn up about it?”

“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”

“Had. In the forties.”

“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”

Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”

“What she said.” Kate agreed.

“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”

“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”

“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”

Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”

“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”

“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”

“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”

“Unfortunately.”

The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”

Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”

“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”

“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”

“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.

Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”

I Can See You

Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”

“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”

“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”

“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”

His eyes softened. “I know that.”

“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”

“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”

“If they did, they’d have used it already.”

He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”

“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”

His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”

“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”

“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”

He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”

“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”

You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.

You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving. 

You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.

Ideally, anyway.

Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.

“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.

“You could say that.”

At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.

So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”

“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”

“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”

“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”

“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”

“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”

Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.

Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.

The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.

Oh right, Hope. Awesome.

You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.

“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”

Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”

“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”

“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.

The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.

“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”

“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.

“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”

As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.

You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.

“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.

“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.

You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.

“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”

“Not too much.”

“Want a lift?”

“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.

You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.

“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”

“A few minutes.”

“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.

“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.

“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”

“As steady as I can.”

A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.

Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.

Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.

***

The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.

The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.

The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.

His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.

“How did it go?”

“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”

“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”

He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”

“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”

Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.

“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…

You smirked. “I have some idea.”

“She told you?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”

He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”

He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”

“Too sweet?”

“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”

“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.

Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”

“Have at it.”

“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Night, Steve.”

Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”

You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”

Champagne Problems

Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.

You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.

Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.

“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”

“You weren’t.” He laughed.  He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”

“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”

“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”

“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”

You blushed. “Thanks.”

“You hear about Nat and Buck?”

“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Steve.”

He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”

The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.

“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”

She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”

“Text me when you find out.” He said.

“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.

You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.

The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.

The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.

You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.

A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”

“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”

“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”

“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”

He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”

“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”

“You’ve never…?”

“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.

“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”

“How long you got left?”

“Another year.”

“I’ve got three and a half months.”

“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”

“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”

“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”

You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.

Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.

“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.

She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”

“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”

She smiled. “Lead the way.”

***

In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.

The Vision.

She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.

“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”

The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.

Someone who was already in love with you.

Maybe there was some hope after all…

The Origin

Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.

In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.

“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.

“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”

The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.

“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”

“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.

“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”

“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”

Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”

You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.

Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.

“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”

“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.

“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”

The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.

You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.

“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.

You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.

Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria

“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.

“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel. 

A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.

Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.

“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.

He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”

Your world came crashing down. “The what?”

“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”

“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”

It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.

“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.

You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.

“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”

Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.

“Having a party without us?”

“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.

“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”

Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.

You still felt numb.

***

You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.

You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”

“About her life, Tony!”

“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”

You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”

She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.

You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”

Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”

“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”

Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”

“What about the suppressor?”

“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”

“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”

“Anything else?” Tony asked.

“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”

Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you would take it.”

“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”

“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.

“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”

“It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Kid, please don’t—”

You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.

Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.

All of them except for you.

You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.

“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.

“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.

The chip in your shoulder burned.

You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.

Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.

Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.

Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”

He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”

“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”

He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”

“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”

“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”

“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”

He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”

***

Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.

Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?

Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve. 

The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.

Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.

He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.

“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”

Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”

“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”

“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.

His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.

“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.

“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.

“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”

“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”

You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.

You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.

“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.

“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.

“Timeless.”

“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”

He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.

“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”

It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.

Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.”

His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.

Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.

Even if you didn’t know it yet.

***

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.

The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.

Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.

There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.

But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.

“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.

She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”

“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”

“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”

“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”

“During training?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”

“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”

“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.

He smiled. “Morning.”

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”

“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.

You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”

Show Yourself

“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.

On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.

And Tony definitely deserved it.

“I’m good. Go for it.”

Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.

Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.

“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.

“You feel okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”

“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.

It felt right.

Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.

“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”

“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand. 

You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.

“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”

“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”

“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.

They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.

First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.

You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.

You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.

And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.

“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.

Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.

For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.

“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.

“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”

“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.

“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”

“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”

“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”

“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.

“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.

“So you did like it?”

“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”

“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”

You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.

“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”

“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”

“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you. 

It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.

Fuck Tony.

***

Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.

You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.

“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”

“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”

“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.

“Make anything cool lately?”

“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”

“Oh she’ll love that.”

“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”

The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.

So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?

***

Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.

He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.

Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.

Happiest Place on Earth

Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.

And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?

You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.

They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.

“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.

“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”

“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.

“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.

You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.

A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.

Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.

Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.

“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”

“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”

“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”

You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.

Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I’m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”

“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.

You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.

“Wait—”

“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.

Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.

“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”

“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.

“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.

“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”

Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”

“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”

“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”

“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.

Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.

“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”

Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”

“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.

“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”

“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.

Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.

And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.

Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.

You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.

There was a knock on your door.

“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.

“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.

“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”

Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”

“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”

You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.

If you already knew.

“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.

But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.

“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”

“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’

You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was. 

“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.

“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.

“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.

“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.

“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.

“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”

“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.

“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”

“I got it online. It was on sale.”

“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.

“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.

“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”

“Nice.”

Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.

“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”

“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.

“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”

“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.

Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.

“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”

“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.

***

Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.

Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving. 

Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.

He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.

***

You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.

Off with the Band-Aid.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.

“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.

“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”

“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”

“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.

“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”

“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.

“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.

“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.

“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.

“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.

“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”

“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”

“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.

“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”

Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.

“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”

“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”

“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”

“I guess so.”

“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.

“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”

The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant. 

“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good luck, Steve.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

***

You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.

You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.

The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.

And then everything went white.

Right Where You Left Me

In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.

For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.

Part of him didn’t want to.

And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.

And now, he was holding your hand. 

You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.

“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”

“What’s an inhaler?”

“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.

You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”

“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”

“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”

“You just might.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”

Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”

“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”

He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”

***

It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.

It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.

“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.

“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.

“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.

Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”

“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.

“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”

You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”

“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.

“Says the girl with superpowers.”

“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”

Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.

“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”

He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”

You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

***

After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.

“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.

Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”

“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”

“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”

Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When

Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.

You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.

You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.

“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.

“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.

You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.

“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”

You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.

Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.

“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.

You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.

“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”

Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.

“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.

“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”

“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.

You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin. 

You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.

It was always you. It had always been you. 

“Steve…”

“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”

“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”

You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.

“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”

You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”

“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”

“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”

He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”

Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.

You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.

“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.

“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”

“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead. 

He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

***

Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.

You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.

Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.

You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.

Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”

“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”

“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”

Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.

“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”

“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”

Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.

His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.

“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”

“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”

“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.

He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”

“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.

“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”

“I was still in the ice!”

“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”

He laughed. “None taken.”

The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.

You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.

During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.

Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.

“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”

“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.

“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.

When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.

He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.

He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.

“Oh I think I know what this is.”

“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”

You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”

“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.

You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.

“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.

“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.

“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”

“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”

“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.

“Doing what?”

You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”

“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”

He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.

“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”

“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”

It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.

But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.

You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.

“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”

“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”

He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.

Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.

“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”

“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.

You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.

After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.

For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.

And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.

“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”

Tags: @cap-lu20

[sweetercalypso]

Watch Party || Joel Miller

word count: 1.5k

summary: renting a Halloween movie turns into a nightmare when poltergeist!Joel Miller crawls out of your TV

notes: part two in my week of horror series! minors dni; female mast., male mast., voyeurism, facial, afab reader, better tags on a03 because tumblr hates this post

It’d started as a joke.

The dusty VHS tape sitting on your coffee table was a relic, an obsolete piece of lewd cinema recorded and forgotten by time. ‘Night of the Lustful Undead’ is clearly an outdated work, but you doubt that the twenty-first century has produced anything that rivals the corny obscenity featured in this parody of a classic horror film.

Static from the TV flickers in a black and white trance, casting a strange light over your living room, dancing across the furniture with an eerie glow.

You grab the tape and slide it into the VHS player that you’d pulled from storage just for this occasion, and settle onto the couch with the remote in hand. This started as a joke, but you’re in too deep to back out now.

When your Halloween plans had been cancelled for the third time in a row, you’d assumed it was a sign that you were meant to spend the holiday weekend at home. You’d told your friend about your dilemma over brunch one morning, and she’d said that time alone could be just as fun, as long as you knew how to spend it.

You’d blushed at the implication and laughed off her suggestive tone, but the idea had planted a seed in your mind, and by the end of the month, it’d grown into something more.

­­­­If you were going to spend the holiday by yourself, you decided that you wanted to stay on theme with your choice of celebration. A movie rental company on the other side of town had exactly the entertainment you were looking for.

You’d been grateful for the anonymity of the empty, dated storefront, though you’d struggled to make eye contact with the cashier as he’d stuffed your purchase into an inconspicuously plain plastic bag.

Now, as the opening credits roll across the screen, you’re still telling yourself that this is just an ironic charade. You’re not actually interested in the passionate plot you’d read on the back of the cover; you’re not secretly glad that your friends hadn’t invited you out at the last minute; you’re not vaguely aware of the heat simmering in your belly at the thought of what’s to come.

The scene opens with a grainy shot of a scantily dressed woman barricaded in the cellar of an old farmhouse – a reference to the film’s inspiration.

She’s toying with a radio to call for help when the reanimated “zombie” bursts through the door, mangled shirt barely covering his tan chest. He lunges towards her and she gives an exaggerated gasp before zealously attempting to wrangle herself free.

“Oh, that’s so fake,” you scoff, though your hands twitch absentmindedly at your sides.

Their stilted performances makes the movie seem more gaudy than you’d anticipated, but you’re too distracted by their heated struggle to worry about bad acting.

The performer in the scene is handsome enough – a burly, broad-shouldered man with dark eyes and a stony expression. The undead part of his character had been implied solely in his tattered clothes and the baritone warble of his voice, and now that he’s stripped down to his popped-open jeans, you can’t remember much else about his role.

Your hands inch into your lap as the two actors tangle themselves together, almost entirely abandoning the storyline they’d spent the first ten minutes building up. He lays the woman down on a conveniently placed blanket and moves between her thighs with the promise to ‘give her what she needs’.

The camera changes angles and you shift in your seat as the expanse of his back fills the screen. His muscles flex in time with his first experimental thrust, spine bent at an awkward angle as he leans down to groan against the woman’s throat. You barely notice the sound of her high-pitched moans over the guttural noises he sings against her skin.

When the point of view changes again and you’re met with a close up of his side profile, you’re immediately entranced by the sight. His nose is pressed against the woman’s cheek, brows pinching together as they share greedy breaths between their open mouths.

You gasp as he glances over at the camera. For a split second, it felt like he was looking directly into your eyes.

The thought is enough to bring you to your breaking point, finally caving in and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your sweats. You’re soaked between your thighs and the sound of the actor’s heady pants fuels the urgency in your touch.

Your fingers swipe messily at your clit as the man on the screen picks up pace, grunting a breathless command of ‘don’t come without me’ into the small room.

The camera switches to a more scenic shot of the pair and you mourn the loss of his close-up features. The woman seems to have forgotten her character’s earlier reservations, thighs wrapped snugly around his waist, one hand knitted into his dark, tussled hair. You silently envy the way she gets to explore his form.  

She throws her head back in pleasure and you imitate the act, almost like you’re trying to envision yourself in her place. Your eyes squint shut and you picture his face again, dipping your fingers into your core.

Light from the TV flashes behind your closed eyes, a wild display of vivid colors that doesn’t fit the setting of the movie. The sounds of their affair are replaced with a jarring static that makes you groan and slump down into the couch. The tape must be jammed.

You peel your eyes open with a disappointed sigh, already feeling the tightly-wound coil in your gut beginning to unravel. So much for enjoying your alone time.

From the flicker of the screen, you notice a tall silhouette looming beside the TV. The color drains from your face when it begins to move closer and you realize that it’s taken the shape of a man.

You’re frozen in fear, too scared to move and too dazed to consider whether your heart is hammering out of panic or eager anticipation.

The figure stops just a few feet away and you’re able to piece together his identity. The mused hair, the stubble on his cheeks, the hills and valleys of his exposed shoulders and chest – the man from the screen is here in front of you.

You look towards the TV in disbelief. Everything seems to be exactly the same, minus the empty space that he had once filled.

His scene partner is still plastered on the screen, blurred by the digital lines running across her image. Without his presence, the movie seems much more like the unserious spoof film you thought you’d purchased.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” his gruff baritone breaks the monotonous white noise coming from the speakers.

“How did you…” your question trails off before you can finish it. What could he say that would make you understand?

He nods towards where your hand disappears beneath the waist of your bottoms. “Keep going. I want to watch.”

His own hand is wrapped around the length of his cock, moving slowly to keep his interest limited to your assent. He’s close enough that you can see the pearl of precum dripping from his ruddy tip, glinting in the light of the flickering screen.

Your fingers move of their own volition, circling your clit with a gentle pressure, matching the leisure pace of his hand gliding over his length. Small chirps and sounds of pleasure fill the air, turning into little hums and choked sobs as your shared tempo becomes faster.

“Y’like my cock?” He spits, thighs flexing as he bucks into his palm. “Dirty girl, getting off on watching other people fuck.”

You whimper and stretch your free hand out to motion him to come closer, but he shakes his head and bats it away. “No – you’re gonna finish what you started.”

He takes another step closer and rubs his thumb over the underside of his cock, laughing to himself as your jaw hangs open in awe.

“Make yourself come, and then I’ll touch you however you want.”

A few more swipes over your clit is all it takes for you to reach your peak, crumpling forward and shuddering through your release. You’re still catching your breath when a warm hand meets your cheek, pulling your attention up to the man towering above you.

His cock stands just inches from your face, and he twists over the shaft once, twice, before he comes, striping the evidence of his arousal over your glazed features. He hisses out a blissful noise and taps the weeping head against your parted lips, leaving a salty taste in your mouth that makes your walls clench.

He tips his head to the side, admiring the opaque lines streaked across your face. When he takes a step back and glances at the TV over his shoulder, you’re afraid for a moment that he might disappear. He turns his focus back towards you with a grin, and the look in his eyes says he’s not leaving anytime soon.

[icyminghao]

if you call on me forever, i will come (preview)

pairing: popstar!soonyoung x fem!reader ft. childhood bestfriend!joshua genre: angst, fluff (not in preview), arranged marriage!au warning(s) (for the preview): cursing, mentions of food word count (for the preview): 1.9k

summary: as a result of his entertainment label teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, soonyoung is given an ultimatum: marry the heir of the largest entertainment label in korea and save his career, or risk losing everything he’s built over the last five years.

a/n: just a little something i’ve been working on to make up for the inactivity~~ not sure when this would be uploaded since i haven’t finished it yet ><

Having been in the entertainment industry since he was eighteen, Soonyoung has quite literally been through it all. From the doubtful eyes of the public when he just debuted to the current, decent fanbase he has garnered through all his years of hardwork and determination, Soonyoung has seen it all.

At least, he thought he had.

“What the hell did you just say?” Soonyoung snaps his head to send the CEO of his music label a chill-inducing glare, and Mr. Kang gulps for a split second before returning to his stoic expression.

“I said,” Mr. Kang clears his throat, “you’re to marry the heir of VIBE Entertainment, as per the conditions set by her father.”

The words hit Soonyoung hard, like he’d just downed a bottle of vodka in one go. He resists the urge to launch himself at Mr. Kang. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because,” Mr. Kang sighs, exasperated, “you have to. It’s the only way for our label to survive. You know what our situation’s like, Soonyoung. The CEO of VIBE Entertainment is doing us a mercy here. Just marry the girl, and VIBE will take us under their wing, and-”

“And then what?” Soonyoung snaps, “We’ll just be one of the many companies monopolised by that farce of an entertainment label. You’ll be just another one of his subordinates, another one of his pawns. Is this the path you want?”

“I mean, just look at what the fuck you’re doing here.” Soonyoung runs his hand through his blonde locks in pure frustration. “I have a fucking girlfriend. You’re just going to upend my life to live out a shitty future? This is the twenty-first century, man. You’d think we’d have gotten over the stupid ‘arranged marriage’ cliche, huh?”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Mr. Kang raises his voice, his gaze hardening. “Do you think I haven’t considered the consequences of this for you? For the label? For me? I’m doing this because we have no other choice-”

“I have my fans. I could work something out,” Soonyoung reasons, pacing about Mr. Kang’s tiny, cramped office.

Mr. Kang laughs with no emotions behind his eyes, and Soonyoung is just now noticing the pure exhaustion manifested in his horrid dark eye circles. “Your fans can’t do jack shit, and you know it.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything in reply, because Mr. Kang is right. His record label had been struggling when Soonyoung first debuted, and silly, naive, eighteen-year-old him thought he could change that. Thought he could be Mr. Kang’s hero, thought he could save the label with his immaculate talent.

Fast forward to five years later, and the label is doing so much worse after suffering the effects of supporting an average pop star for half a decade. Hell, he can’t even bear to call himself a pop star. Five years down the rocky road to stardom, and he’s barely produced enough hits to even be considered a household name in the country, let alone the world. He knows Mr. Kang is right. They’ve been backed against the wall, and there’s only one way out.

Breaths evening out as he calms down, Soonyoung shuts his eyes so tight it feels like his sockets might pop out. Letting out a sigh in surrender, he slowly opens them and inhales deeply.

“How long do I have till it happens?”

You think you might just be Soonyoung’s biggest fan.

You’ve been with him on his journey to stardom since he debuted, and you’ve been a loyal fan since. You’d even talked to him once, when your father’s secretary brought you to the set where Soonyoung was filming an interview with a magazine.

Which is why your mind is reeling right now. Your father’s secretary, Joshua, had just informed you of your impending marriage to Soonyoung, and you’re both happy and taken by surprise.

“He… agreed to this? Willingly?” you ask, doubt lacing your voice. Joshua simply nods in response, before letting out a huge smile and stepping closer to you.

“This is really big, y/n,” Joshua grins toothily. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and launch yourself into your childhood best friend’s arms, squealing.

“I know, Shua! I’m just, really surprised he agreed to this willingly. I mean, I feel really bad since this is, like, being forced upon us and all, but maybe he remembers me from the time we met at the N Magazine shoot?” you ramble in complete disbelief. “God, Joshua. What if he doesn’t like me? Or I don’t like him as a person? We’d be so miserable, maybe it’s not too late-”

“You know you can’t change his mind once he’s set on it, y/n.” Joshua sighs, gently grabbing you by your shoulders to ground you. “Besides, what’s not to like about you? The only thing you should be worried about is whether or not you’ll like him.”

You break out into a dopey smile, touched by Joshua’s kind words. “Aw, Joshie, are you flirting with me now?”

You see a hint of panic flash through Joshua’s widened eyes, but his phone beeps with a notification before you can call him out on it.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” Joshua says after pocketing his phone. “You have a dinner with him tonight.”

You’re late to the dinner.

Which clearly would not give Soonyoung a good impression of you, you realise, as you silently pray for Joshua to drive faster.

In your defence, Joshua had only informed you about the scheduled dinner barely an hour before it was supposed to happen, and you were at your office in your father’s company building sorting out some PR stuff for a newly-debuted boygroup, so you had a grand total of about forty minutes to prepare yourself for the dinner. Which, after reducing the travel time to your apartment to get ready and to the restaurant, left you a whopping ten minutes to spare.

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, at least ten minutes late to your first official meeting as a soon-to-be married couple.

You don’t even realise when Joshua finally pulls up in front of the restaurant, and he has to gently nudge you to snap you out of your stupor.

“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done, okay? Everything’s going to be fine,” Joshua smiles softly, reassuring you with honey laced in his words. You shoot him a nervous smile, bidding him goodbye as you scramble out of his car and into the restaurant.

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You guess you’re considered a child of nepotism (a “nepo-baby”, as Joshua calls it), yes, but you’d stopped relying on your father’s black card to get by, instead depending on the pay you earn from your job (which technically comes from him since you work at his company as the PR team leader of a newly-debuted boygroup, but it’s still your money nonetheless) that honestly isn’t much, but you get by, so you couldn’t ask for more, really. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t really do fancy restaurants, hence your surprise.

Your first thought is that this restaurant is overwhelmingly bright. The place is decked out with so many chandeliers, and there are so many utensils laid out on an empty table for two you’d think there were at least five people having a meal there. You briefly glance at an occupied table and wince upon seeing the measly portion of the food, knowing you’ll probably have to get takeout later.

Your second thought is holy shit, Soonyoung’s right there, and he is ethereal the moment you spot him a few tables in front of you, seemingly lost in thought in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. He’s dressed to the nines in a crisp navy blue button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black slacks, and his hair is nicely slicked back with a few strands framing his face, your heart nearly stopping at the sight. He makes eye contact with you as you stand there like a total idiot and looks away before you beam at him, like he didn’t recognise you.

Right, you think, he probably doesn’t recognise you considering the last time the both of you interacted had been four years ago. You take a deep breath and mentally psych yourself up as you walk over to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks visibly confused when you stand in front of him, and you don’t know if you should be amused or offended.

“Hi,” you begin, “I’m y/n.”

As if a switch was turned on the moment you introduced yourself, Soonyoung’s gaze hardens, and you feel yourself shrink a little under his piercing eyes.

“You’re late,” he practically spits, venom lacing the two simple words.

“I’m sorry, I got here on short notice, I only knew about this like two hours-”

“Save it, I don’t really care. Let’s just get this over with.” Soonyoung grumbles, not even bothering to hide his eye roll. Hurt flares in your chest, and you timidly take the seat across from him.

“Um, so, I think we’ve met b-”

You’re cut off once again as Soonyoung closes his eyes and sighs in visible frustration, his breaths becoming quicker. “Look, uh, y/n, I have no intention of being, like, friends with you or whatever, okay? You folks sprung this up on me like I’m some kind of object, so you can’t expect me to act like all of this is fine when it’s really not. Let’s just get this dinner over and done with and go back to our expiring freedom, yeah?”

“Soonyoung, but you… agreed to this. Willingly,” you protest, confused at the rude tone he’s taking on.

Soonyoung scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at you. “I have a girlfriend, y/n. Why would I accept this willingly?”

You don’t talk after that, and just like that, there’s an unspoken agreement that that was the end of the conversation for possibly the entire dinner.

Your food arrives, in portions made for children just like you expected, and you eat in silence, willing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just having a bad day, you try to reason, blinking back tears.

Or maybe, the voice deep inside of your head pops up, you’re doomed to be in this loveless marriage forever.

You jolt out of your trance as your fork clatters to the floor with an ear-piercing sound, and you smile sheepishly at the neighbouring diners who had turned to see what the commotion was. Picking up your fork and laying it on the table, you decide that you’ve probably had enough for the day.

“It was nice, uh, meeting you. I should go now,” you purse your lips together and try your hardest to not burst into tears in front of Soonyoung, though if he notices, he gives no indication. You stand up and leave after a few seconds of silence, feeling increasingly suffocated.

As soon as you step out of the restaurant, you let out a huge breath, the first tear slipping out of your left eye. Through your blurred vision, you see Joshua stepping out of his car, hurrying over to you.

“Oh my god, y/n,” he frets over you, swiping your tears away with his thumbs. “What did he say to you?”

You continue sobbing as Joshua wraps his arms around you, leaning your head on his shoulder as you shake uncontrollably. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s get you home, hm?”

You nod in between sobs, letting your body go limp as Joshua walks you to his car.

The ride home is silent, your mind clear of all thoughts but one.

You’re doomed to live out the rest of your miserable life with a man who cannot and will not love you. Not now, and not ever.

a/n 2: i hope this was okay!

taglist: @slytherinshua @xomingyu @belladaises @pepperonidk @tastymintchocolate @smilehui @dahliatopia

masterlist

[thesnicketfile]

Part memoir, part inspiration for aspiring writers, And Then? And Then? What Else? traces Daniel Handler's sometimes challenging and often amusing path toward one of the most spectacularly successful writing careers of the twenty-first century. Declaring his love of strange literature, Baudelaire's The Flowers of Evil in particular, Handler reflects on the life experiences--some of them deeply personal and revealed for the first time--and the cultural influences that shaped his writing, both under his own name and as Lemony Snicket, the lonely, beleaguered, somehow both cynical and romantic narrator of the beloved thirteen-volume saga of three unlucky orphans that became one of the best-selling series of all time. Inspiring, revelatory, and entertaining, And Then? And Then? What Else? is destined to become a classic of its genre, every bit as influential as Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings or Stephen King's On Writing have been on previous generations.

Out May 21, 2023. Pre-order it here.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Chen Gong with tanjiro!fem!reader headcanons

warning: ooc, manga spoilers, violence

The long anticipated collab work with @praisethesuuun is finally here! Guys, go check out their amazing blog if you wanna read more Chen Gong content! Here's a link to some more romance headcanons with this ball of sunshine! :)

With that being said y'all, sit back, relax and enjoy these headcanons!

Whether it was Brunhilde’s twisted judgment or it was simply because she wanted the best for the soul she guided to Valhalla, Chen Gong was extremely grateful to the Valkyrie placed the soul in Lord Lu Bu’s care. 

The soul in question was [First Name] Kamado, a swordswoman who centuries ago alongside like-minded individuals, secretly protected the public from the demons that prowled at night to devour human flesh. Yet in exchange for the knowledge of learning the art of Sun Breathing, she had paid it with her life and died at the tender age of twenty-eight. 

Those who had possessed the Mark of the Demon Slayer were cursed to perish. It seemed like a myth originally intended to scare off anyone from becoming a Hashira was not simply just that; it had been a truth, one that the Ubuyashiki family had known and shared with very few because it would discourage Demon Slayers who wanted to the Mark just to prove that they were the strongest within the organization. A badge of honor paid in blood.

It did not take much effort from the swordswoman to win over his heart. She was kind, empathetic, and extremely helpful around the camp. She’d do any task that was asked by himself or another soldier without complaint:  laundry, polishing armor or weapons, and preparing meals. 

The soldiers grew to like her and were often bewildered at the tales she’d share with them over the fire about her days as a Demon Slayer. They all laughed when she vehemently said she’ll never step foot in the entertainment district again because she feared it’d crumble in a single night like it had when she went undercover as an oiran-in-training. In her defense, the demons she’d faced were incredibly powerful, and she almost died from that fight! 

However, Chen Gong remained oblivious to [First Name]’s strength until Lu Bu had received orders from the higher-ups to investigate a peculiar situation: there was new territory to be explored, and all of the expedition teams were never seen again. The only clue of what actually happened was a half mutilated corpse of a soldier, the top half of his face removed…yet the army could see a blissful smile stretched across that rotten cadaver. 

As if he’d died a happy man and not in fear of the unknown. 

[First Name] took a single whiff at the corpse and immediately confirmed that the culprit is in fact a demon. She asked Lu Bu to allow her to handle the situation. She hypothesized that this demon targeted only men, or used their Blood Demon Art to immobilize them long enough to be devoured. Whether it was through their honeyed words or another method, she was not sure. 

But please allow her to go so that no one else would be killed. 

Lu Bu simply looked at the swordswoman and nodded, grunting to bring back proof that she carried out the deed. The demon’s head would be sufficient. [First Name] thanked him profusely, pressing her forehead against the floor before departing the tent. 

Hours before nightfall befell upon the skies of Valhalla, [First Name] was prepared to leave the camp, her sword strapped to her right side and fitted in borrowed, dirty armor. She surmised that the scent of a man would lure the demon out from its hiding place to hunt and conceal her own odor. 

Chen Gong did not like this strategy, not at all. But Lu Bu’s word was the law. He had to follow the commands of his lord. He wished [First Name] to come back safely, preferably not in critical condition or nearly comatose like in her stories of fighting against demons in the Taisho era.

She smiled brightly and said she would come back. Squeezing his shoulder gently, her form disappeared beneath the covers of the night. The longest night Chen Gong had experience thus far since he’d arrived in Valhalla.

He wanted to have faith in [First Name], to trust that she will keep her promise…but should he have given the Demon Slayer his most prized possession so she would be reminded to come back? No, that wouldn’t be right. He was the great Lu Bu’s genius strategist, not a fair maiden worried about her lover!

Yes, he might have known her for less than six months but damn it all he wanted to marry her! Who wouldn’t?!

Night passed before Chen Gong realized it, the faint orange-red rays of dawn approaching over the horizon. Just when the men were about to move out, however, a soldier noticed someone walking towards them. [First Name]. Covered in dirt and blood, and smiling at them tiredly as she slowly, steadily, headed in their direction. 

She made it back. She’s alive. 

Chen Gong broke into a run, passing the soldiers and embraced her tightly in the grassy fields. When he pulled away he did not hesitate to chastise her for worrying him and Lu Bu, pressing kisses around her dirty face. When he realized what he’d done, the swordswoman’s cheeks were flushed dark red as she stammered an apology, holding up a single amber eye in the air. 

She did try to bring back the head like the general wanted, but a demon’s body immediately disintegrates when the head is severed from the neck. The eyeball was the only piece of the demon she was able to salvage. 

Chen Gong didn’t give [First Name] another chance to apologize before he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the infirmary tent without a second thought. When he saw it was empty, he grabbed some supplies to start treating the most superficial wounds on his own until the doctor arrived. Once he’d gone outside though, some of the soldiers teased him about how he acted earlier. Realizing what he’d done made his face burn with embarrassment. 

Gods, what would [First Name] think of him now after acting like a barbarian?! He didn’t mean to act like that, but how can she be so reckless?! 

His troubled thoughts were shortly shattered when the doctor informed him that aside from having some deep lacerations and a broken rib, the Demon Slayer was in good health. She just needed to be on light duty and get plenty of rest. Chen Gong was relieved…yet at the same time, nervous. 

He needed to tell her. He needed to let her know that he was in love with her, and soon. 

So that was exactly what he did once she woke up three days later in the infirmary tent. He lightly scolded her for making him worry to death as he held her in his arms. When she asked about the eyeball, he informed her that he personally took care of it. 

Lord Lu Bu wasn’t all too happy that she didn’t bring back a head, but something was better than nothing. Now that he knew demons existed in Valhalla, he’d consult her if they ran into unnecessary trouble again. 

 A silence between them before the strategist took a leap of faith and sealed it with a light kiss. 

[First Name] grew flustered from his actions, stammering and wiggling as he continued to place smaller kisses around her face. He only stopped to look her in the eye and solemnly asked her to become his wife, if she’ll allow him to court her. 

Wide-eyed and with a pinkened face resembling a plum blossom, [First Name] nodded in acceptance. Chen Gong grinned, hugging her tightly again before she released a pained yelp. 

He quickly apologized, loosening his grip around her hips as he embraced her once more. 

Upon arriving at their designated military base, Chen Gong did not hesitate to begin the courtship immediately. Horseback riding, exploring the marketplace, and cuddling were some of the activities they did together. 

He did try to spoil his soon-to-be-wife with hairpins and perfume bottles, but she was insistent that she didn’t need it at all. He still bought it when she wasn’t looking, anyway. The marketplace was also where she’d reunited with her blacksmith, Lord Haganezuka….and he had a very violent reaction to seeing her chipped sword.

By ‘violent reaction’ he chased them both around the vendor booths with knives in either hand, two more were wrapped around his head with a black cloth.  It took a good while for the man to be calm enough to agree to fix the blade.

In less than three months, Chen Gong was a happily married man and obtained a new ability that would greatly benefit him in the next war: complete immunity towards all forms of seduction. 

In summary, Chen Gong is a loving, committed man who will not hesitate to simp over his spouse just as much as he fawned over Lu Bu. 

Bonus Content:

Ordinarily, Chen Gong would celebrate the New Year with the soldiers at the barracks, eating and drinking until the following morning. But this time, he will not be joining them. Instead, he would be secluded in a forested area within the territory’s borders, mesmerized by his spouse dancing bare-footed in the middle of pillars of ignited torches. Her face was concealed by a white veil, tiny bells jingling from the red sash that wrapped around her head. 

The sleeve of her ceremonial robes billowed in the wind, twirling a decorated wooden blade between her fingers. For generations the Kamado family have performed the rite to please gods, and recently, to pay their respects to Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the man who had founded the Breathing Styles and saved their ancestor’s family from demons. It had been passed from father to son, and in [First Name]’s case, from father to daughter. 

Yet after her father passed on, she persisted in carrying out the tradition, even when some of the villagers believed bad luck would happen if a woman carried out the sacred dance. Nothing happened….until that fateful winter morning.

But she never believed her family’s demise had been because of ‘bad luck’. Muzan attacked her mother and siblings simply because he wanted to see if a demon could withstand the sunlight. Her and Nezuko’s survival would be considered merciful in his perspective. 

Remembering the tragic tale behind the dance brought fresh tears to Chen Gong’s eyes. His wife had been through so much, and she is still kind to everyone even in death. Above all else…she was simply divine in that celestial garb. 

How did he get so lucky?!

From dusk to dawn, he watched [First Name] perform the rite with jugs of wine sitting by his feet, a warm smile stretched across his face, marveling at this spectacle.

It is said amongst the soldiers that at the start of each new year, the strategist’s simping for his wife increases tenfold and he acts like a lovestruck fool around her for the first three weeks…and progressively gets worse. 

Taglist:

@zodiacs-web

@onecantsimply

@kiannas-stuff

@yellow-snark

@justamegafan

@thatstrangesheep

@deathmetalunicorn1

@enryegotrip

@dance-till-the-death

@myrisan-melodies

@staticradiotv

@recreationalfanfics

@nixes-noxes

@mortemorii

@seijuuns-fantasy

[thatgirlonstage]

for a fun prompt: the crew of the starblaster celebrating the 69th birthdays of their human members

I went pretty far off script with this prompt but I think it’s still entertaining haha.

——

“I can’t have a crush on her, Merle!” Barry tugged anxiously at his hair, pacing back and forth so forcefully that he was liable to wear a hole in the carpet. “She’s, like, 110 years old! That’s barely adult for an elf! I’d be dating a twenty year old!”

“Ehhh, elf ages and human ages are both dumb,” Merle said, poking distractedly at the little potted plant in his lap. It gave a disconcerting, entirely un-plant-like hiss. “Even more so, now that we’re in some kinda funky reset loop. If you like her, you like her, and if she likes you she likes you. Why get hung up on the details?”

“But she’s— I’m— we’re—” Barry stopped in the middle of the floor to gesticulate madly. Tiny, confused fireworks of prestidigitation popped in his fingers. His shoulders slumped all at once. “I mean, she probably doesn’t even see me that way,” he mumbled.

“You know, for all you’re sayin’ you’re the one who’s too old for this relationship, you sure are acting like a kid,” Merle said cheerfully. He tickled the underside of a leaf on the plant, which promptly opened like a jaw a bit him. “Ooh, feisty little guy!” Merle said to the plant. He seemed entirely unconcerned by the blood now oozing from his finger and the thorns still buried in him. “All this drama over a crush! And you’re worried you’re too old for the interdimensional astronaut elf! Come on, Barry. I mean, by that standard, I’m decades too old for half the plants I’ve—”

“I am begging you not to finish that sentence.”

Merle grinned at him. “The point is— I mean, how old even are ya?”

“I’m fifty— no, hang on.” Barry mouthed to himself, counting silently. “How many cycles are we on? Sixteen?”

“Beats me,” Merle said. He was stroking the edge of the leaf that was still embedded in his finger. Something yellow and nasty was starting to ooze out of the wound along with the blood.

“No, crap, seventeen, I forgot about the hamster wheel planet.”

“Oh yeah! Your whiskers were adorable.”

“Are you going to heal your finger?”

“Aww, the little guy’s just playing, don’t mind him,” Merle said. “So seventeen cycles puts you at…?”

Barry stared up at the ceiling. “It’s almost the autumn equinox, isn’t it? Oh man, Merle, I turn 69 next week.” He started pulling his hair again. “Merle, I’m almost seventy!”

“Hey, congrats, you’re narrowing the age gap!”

“That’s not how this works!” Barry rubbed a hand over his face. “Merle, that plant is poisoning you, and I am not wasting a diamond to raise you if you keel over on me.”

“Alright, alright!” Merle, who had been turning faintly green and yellow, like his entire body was a fading bruise, said. “Sheesh, you’d think I never heal anything unless I’m told.” He extricated his finger from the plant and with a short murmur, the wound zipped closed and the poison dissipated beneath his skin. “The point is, Barry, maybe it’s hard to see because you’re human, and you can only see it from a human perspective, but adulthood is weird when you live a long time.” Merle shrugged. “I don’t know all that much about elves, but I know they don’t stay in their mom’s skirts until they hit their first century. A hundred years is still a hundred years, even if you feel it a bit differently. She might think you’re the little kid here. Either way, you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her about it.”

Barry sighed. “As usual, Merle, you’re somehow both a lot of help and no help at all.”

Merle gave him a broad grin. “I strive for oxymorons!” he said. “By the way, when did you say your birthday was?”

“Huh? Oh, next week. But it’s not like we’ve been celebrating—”

“Next week! Got it!” Merle hopped off his chair and waddled to the door. “Don’t you dare die before then, Barry!”

Barry was left behind in Merle’s bedroom with a hissing plant, somehow now much more worried about his birthday than he was about Lup.

*

A week later, with no further word from Merle, Barry had almost forgotten his birthday was coming, until he walked into the Starblaster’s common room one morning in a ratty t-shirt and sleep jeans to his entire family around a cake in the shape of a giant 69, shouting in bellowed chorus, “NICE BIRTHDAY, BARRY!”

[heartbeatan]

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 1)

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 1

You were healthily addicted to your cell phone, the way most twenty-first centuriers were. It offered you safety, connection, entertainment, news, directions, and food delivery. You lived a pretty happy digital life. You avoided the toxic corners of social media, successfully skirted wasting money on fad product trends (well… success is a relative term…) and spent most of your time smiling at the hilarious memes posted by friends, rolling your eyes at your step-mother and future-mother-in-laws aggressive “wedding suggestions” emails, and squealing at the romantic and occasionally naughty texts from your fiancé.

Today, however, as you looked down at the black, cracked screen - your thumb hovering over the lock button - your pink-cased smartphone more so resembled a ticking time bomb, rather than a miniature computer.

You had turned the sounds and vibrations off days ago. The endless stream of notifications and phone calls since “it happened” had frayed your patience and your nerves. You couldn't stand to hear another “I’m here for you!” or “I’m sorry!” or “You should [insert unprompted advice]” without wanting to vomit. The only reason why you wanted to vomit was because the alternative was going to cost you several court appearances for attempted murder, vandalism, and arson - and you were reasonable enough to know that the bastards who already ruined your life weren’t worth ruining your future.

But, since vomiting only seemed like a self-punishing form of anger - and that didn’t seem fair either - you decided that you could channel your hate for the world in other ways.

That brought you to this moment: parked along the shoulder of a two-lane highway, flanked by old, tall trees, hours away from your civilization, staring down at your phone as you decided which crisis you were going to address first when you finally unlocked the screen.

You pressed your thumb and the screen lit up, prompting you for a password. You scrunched your nose as the lockscreen notification indicated that you had received another slew of text messages, notifications, emails and missed phone calls. A wiser person would have started blocking numbers and addresses - but you weren’t wiser… you were vindictive… and thus, you needed those numbers unblocked so that you could execute your plan accordingly.

You punched in your passcode, and immediately scoffed as you came face to face with your wallpaper. It was an engagement photo of you and your fiancé, hugging each other tightly, and beaming into the photo lens with bright smiles. Of all the photos that had been taken that session, this one wasn’t the best of the lot. The sun was hot and painfully bright, meaning neither of you could see. In fact, tears from trying to keep your eyes open had streaked your mascara. Chris - your fiancé - had also begun to sweat beneath his dress shirt, and the wind blew both your perfectly coiffed hairstyles out of place. But you remembered vividly how happy you had been when that photo was taken. Chris had made some ridiculous joke about life being about “as good as it sweats”, and although his puns were usually met with jeers and boos, you couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter. Life with him was always a bit corny, but fun as hell. He held you tight against him, and you pressed your cheeks together as you laughed stupidly towards the photographer.

You should have changed your wallpaper the moment you walked in on Chris, your fiancé, fucking your Maid of Honour, Stephanie. But you decided that, for now, you needed to be reminded of his face. You needed to remember why you were putting an obscenely high number of miles on your car. You needed the anger to flush your system and strip you of all trepidation. You needed your inhibitions gone, so you felt no remorse about fucking the man whom Stephanie called “the love of her life.”

Perhaps, we should back up…

Stephanie and yourself had been inseparable since middle school. She was your best friend, and you had remained loyaly at each other’s side through the chaos and mess of your formative years. University was the only thing that pulled you two apart - but, despite the time zone difference between your respective schools, you stayed in touch. That was when you first heard about Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook and Stephanie were in the same dormitories, shared friends, and even took the occasional class together. She was completely enamored by him from the very first moment they met. You remembered the phone call she made to you that very first day of school, and how brightly you smiled from the other end of the phone as she recounted how she had just met “the love of her life.” You were happy for her, and admittedly a bit jealous that her first college experience had been so monumentally more exceptional than yours. You considered yourself to be a social person, but your first week out of your small town, on the heels of breaking up with your highschool boyfriend, and amidst the bustle of a large, University City, you were feeling like a fish out of water, and worried about finding your place there. Fortunately, your fears were misplaced. You quickly established a core group of friends, and spent the next four years bonding, growing, learning, and partying like a rockstar. By the end of your undergrad, you couldn’t even remember the person you were before you had gone to school. Yet, Stephanie and yourself had still managed to stay close - even visiting each others’ campuses on occasion. That was how you met Jeon Jungkook.

The first time you saw him was at a small pre-drink gathering in Stephanie’s room. She, of course, wanted to take you out on the town and show you a good time. Show off the fabulous life she had cultivated for herself. You were looking forward to meeting him. By the way Stephanie had described Jungkook and their time together, you had assumed that something was happening between them… if they weren’t already in a relationship she hadn’t yet disclosed to you. But when you got there, you quickly became of the suspicion that the life long love Stephanie had found was likely one sided on her part. You empathized with her. You weren’t exactly the best at handling unrequited feelings - you had already gone through a bout of them with your own fellow classmate and temporary fuck buddy. Whereas you dealt with those feelings by talking them out with a pint of ice cream, Stephanie coped with denial and delusion. You wondered how she put up with it for so long. Your friend was beautiful, charming and, by the way the boys of her school tripped over themselves when they were around her, you were sure she could have easily found real, two-way love with the snap of her perfectly self-manicured nails. You wondered who the hell this Jungkook guy was, and what kind of asshole he could have been to not only have this hold over her, but also the audacity to reject her.

But the moment he walked into the party… you understood. He made your heart instantly thump, your mind whip through a reel of fantasies, and your nether regions pulse. He was gorgeous beyond belief. Thick ebony hair, a loose, black t-shirt that somehow was tight over his broad chest, an array of dainty tattoos dancing their way up his muscular arms, and a strong, squared jaw that emphasized both his boyish and masculine features. There was something insouciant about how he walked into a room, and the way he casually scanned the space around him. His dark and brooding aura instantly made you desperate for his attention.

You felt guilty for being even remotely attracted to him - but that guilt also made you completely understand your best friend's misleading banter. If you had to see that man everyday, you too would need to find a way to cope beyond the abilities of frozen sugar.

You met him a few times over the college years, and even several times afterwards, since Stephanie’s friend group stayed relatively in touch and she often invited you along. Jungkook and yourself, however, hadn’t shared many words between you throughout all those occasions. Whenever you were around, he didn’t talk often to Stephanie either, and you questioned if it was because of you, and that he didn’t like you very much. But, of the few times you did speak, he was cordial, still insouciant, and generally a decent person. You could easily describe him as an “artist.” A flower child with the air of James Dean. He had started his own graphic design business and was in high demand; he toured every summer with his indie-rock band; he made decent bank on paintings, photographs and graphic prints which he sold online; and, just because of course he could, also ran a tattoo and piercing salon out of his house.

You had only been to his home once. He had invited his college friends up for a long weekend, and you, of course, tagged along. You didn’t get much of a look inside his home, aside from the bathroom off the mudroom. The home was in the middle of the woods and had the outside appearance of a luxury cabin, but there certainly wasn’t enough room inside for all of you to sleep - so you stayed in tents sprawled across the lawn.

That was the weekend you met Chris. Stephanie had actually set up the meet-cute. He was the brother of one of Stephanie’s friend’s whom she had met once or twice - an unfortunate detail that would become relevant later.

That weekend, it felt as if all the stars were finally aligning. Chris and you clicked immediately, and you unashamedly spent the next four days attached at the hip, and those three total nights “sleeping” in his tent. Stephanie seemed to be finally getting what she wanted as well. She was at Jungkook’s side at every opportunity, and from behind your rose coloured glasses, you were sure something was finally going to happen between them.

Unfortunately, your newly love-drunk perspective was far from correct. Stephanie was in a foul mood the whole drive home. Apparently, she had finally mustered up enough courage to tell Jungkook that she loved him, and he had coldly shut down her advances. She even cried at one point, and you comforted her by dutifully calling him a blind asshole, and declaring that she deserved so much more than him.

After that trip, two years passed, and you were deeply in love with Chris, and Stephanie seemed to get over her Jungkook heartbreak. She respectfully got over him by getting under other lovers. The problem, however, was when she got under Chris. There weren’t many pertinent details to that revelation. You came home one day early from work, saw Stephanie’s car in your driveway and assumed she had been by to drop off a dress of yours she had borrowed for your bridal shower. When you stepped into the house, instead of finding a garment bag hanging neatly at your backdoor, you found her clothes strewn about the kitchen floor, and Chris pounding her over your pristine kitchen counters.

You left without saying a thing. You ignored their terrified cries and guilty apologies. Truly, you felt nothing in that moment. Just numb. You shut off your phone, drove five towns over, and held yourself up in a hotel room.

Inside that hotel room, you experience the intensity of every stage of grief.

Denial. You hadn’t seen what you had seen. This man who told you he loved you, who treated you right, who asked you to marry him - there was no way he was cheating on you.

Anger. Stephanie - the woman who was family to you. The girl who had been with you through thick and thin, who introduced you to your fiancé, whose mortgage you paid when she lost her job and needed time to find a new one, the one who held your hand at your mother’s funeral, the way you did at her father’s… Stephanie, would have the audacity to betray you in the most intimate way possible.

Bargaining. People make mistakes. Perhaps there was a good explanation they could give you - one that could convince you that this affair could be forgiven and forgotten, and everything could return to normal before the “mistake.”

Depression. Realizing you would need to leave Chris. Knowing that you lost a friend. Thinking about just how much physical, emotional and financial labour you were about to endure to pull apart your intrinsically tangled lives.

Acceptance. You were no longer engaged. Stephanie was no longer your friend. You were alone again.

Of all the stages and feelings you went through, anger was the one that ironically made you feel the best. So, upon acceptance of your fate, you returned to the anger stage, and began scheming your payback.

Chris was a pretty easy target. You were an accountant, and he was a fool. Nearly everything you owned together was in your name, since your credit was fabulous, and his looked like he had spent his retirement savings on crypto currency the day before the big crash. Long story short, the man would be homeless, carless, and broke by the time you spoke with him again.

Stephanie was a bit of a different story. You couldn’t get to her by destroying her financial life, and frankly, her social life would bounce back easily. Regardless, that wasn’t how you wanted to get back at her. Chris destroyed your collective life together, so you made him start over in every way possible. Stephanie, however, destroyed your heart. You needed her to feel the loss of love, the stab of feeling worthless, and the sting of betrayal. You needed her to hurt. You needed to take something away from her that she loved so dearly… but the only thing she had ever truly claimed to love (aside from you) was Jungkook.

You turned your phone back on, then went to the bathroom while the millions of notifications flooded your phone. When you returned, you cleared them all with one simple swipe of your finger, then opened up your social media folder.

You hadn’t had Jungkook as a friend on any of your socials, but you also knew he wasn’t much for personal social media to begin with. Regardless, you easily tracked down his business page, but grimaced to find his private messages closed. But there was a phone number…

You looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. There was no way he kept office hours open until now. But, he was self-employed… so perhaps the phone number was also his personal?

You hovered over the number, seesawing between calling him, or waiting to call him during normal hours, until you nearly convinced yourself to not call him at all. As your feet got colder, you moved to close the phone and toss it across the room - but just before you did, another text message popped up on your screen.

Stephanie.

You once again seesawed between finally reading their messages, or putting the phone back on mute until you were ready to face what either of them had to say. But before you could consciously decide, your finger pressed the notification and the full message popped up on the screen.

It was less than an apology. Although she did start by saying she was sorry, the remaining five paragraphs were probably the most audacious things you could have ever imagine to have read from someone who was trying to apologize for fucking your fiancé. She pointed out that she had in fact met Chris first, and that there had always been a spark. She said that she had given him to you, because she felt you deserved happiness. She said that she felt she needed to stop putting the happiness of others ahead of herself. Then, with all the narcissistic, self-deluded frenemy energy she could muster, told you that if you were a good friend, you would be happy that she had finally found someone who respected her.

You clucked your teeth, now beyond the point of anger. In that moment, years of memories flooded your thoughts. Every backhanded compliment she had ever made to you, every crush of yours she had flirted with, every moment she flaked on you for someone else. They were small moments, and they were surpassed by a mountain of great moments, but you couldn’t help but wonder if they had been signs you had always ignored. Perhaps Stephanie was an objectively bad person, and perhaps you had been too blind to see it until now. Perhaps she was one of those people whose nastiness was subtle, and you were one of those people who gave others too many benefits of the doubt. Well… if provoked… you could be nasty too…

You closed the message, opened the phone app, and pressed “call.”

“Hello?”

Your nerves instantly flared the moment he answered.

“Hey, uh, Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Hey,” he answered, although there was a clear hint of confusion in his voice.

“Stephanie’s friend. Chris’ fiancé, ” you elaborated, although saying those words tasted like acid.

“Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

You took in a deep, audible breath as you gathered the courage to power through what you wanted to say. Your shotgun plan was to engage in some sort of small talk at first, but in the end, what you were about to suggest wasn’t worth all the discomfort of trying to pretend as if the two of you were close.

“I have a humiliating favour to ask you – and it would be completely fair of you to think I’m insane, but, I’ve already been humiliated beyond belief today, so I’m hoping you’ll at least take pity on me because there really isn’t much further to go until I hit rock bottom.”

He paused for a second, and you could sense even more confusion radiating through the phone.

“Shoot,” he responded, casually bracing himself for what you were about to ask.

“You know, Stephanie has been in love with you since college. She still calls you the love of her life.”

He sighed. “No offense, but I’m really not interested in her, and she’s known that since college. And I’m getting really tired of her ploys to convince me otherwise.”

Interesting, you thought, picking up on how his voice grated when he spoke about her.

“I’m not calling to play matchmaker, Jungkook.”

“Good to know. What can I do for you then?”

“Well… today, I walked in on her and Chris, naked in my kitchen.”

“Shit,” he exclaimed, although something in his tone implied he wasn’t particularly surprised. You skipped past that thought, given that he was fairly indifferent 99% of the time. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thanks. But I didn’t call for pity. My best friend had sex with the man I thought was the love of my life. I would like to return the favour.”

Once again, Jungkook went quiet, and even though it made your heart race and your cheeks heat, you let the silence hang so he had ample opportunity to work out exactly what you were implying. Then, with an even voice laced with intrigue, he asked, “What specifically do you want from me?”

“I want you to fuck me so God damn stupid that the next time I see her, I can’t walk straight.”

You heard a soft huff of a laugh come through the phone. But to your surprise, and to your excitement, there wasn’t much of a pause or hesitation before he gave you his answer.

“How soon can you get here?”

Go to Chapter 2.

[kingdimitrx]

Time to overanalyze one comment from Mugen Train

At one point, I think either while he’s dying or while he’s being a little bastard and talking to himself about all his future plans in a gay femboy voice you’d expect to find in a hentai, Enmu makes a simple comment about the Upper Moons.

He says something along the lines of, “The Upper Moon ranks haven’t changed in a century”, thus implying that they haven’t changed - in members or in positions - for at least a hundred years. There are two things that led me to realize.

Realization one - Daki & Gyutaro.

When Daki and Gyutaro were transformed into demons, Daki/Ume was thirteen, and Gyutaro was 26.

When they were killed in The Entertainment District arc, she was 113 and he was 126. Implying they’ve aged exactly one hundred years. If we take Enmu’s comment into account, this means that Daki and Gyutaro would have had to become Upper Six within their very first year of being demons, as the ranks haven’t changed in a century. Making them the only demons to have risen not only to Twelve Kizuki, but to Upper Moon within one year.

Realization Two - Douma.

This second realization also has to do with Daki & Gyutaro. Douma is 133, and became a demon at twenty.

This means that when he met Daki and Gyutaro, he was only 33. But that’s not the important part. It’s the hundred years part.

Douma was only Upper Moon Six when he turned Daki and Gyutaro into demons; he was the lowest rank of the Upper Moons, but higher than a Lower Moon.

If the Upper Ranks haven’t changed in a hundred years?

That means Douma rose from Upper Six to Upper Two in a single year.

He went from the lowest rank in the Upper Moons to being the third most powerful demon in existence… In one year.

As he mentions during the Upper Moon Meeting, this is astounding in comparison to, say, Akaza. Akaza is roughly 218 years old, approx., and he’s Upper Three. It took him two hundred years to reach Upper Three, and meanwhile Douma - only 133 years old - is already higher ranked than him, in a much shorter span of time.

Douma is fucking powerful as hell, you guys.

(…I had to make it about Douma, as usual) (Edit: Holy shit this is getting a lot of attention, I was literally just rambling, I posted this to my boyfriend on Discord at like 4am and then transferred it here)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Some vampire John Wick headcanons please 🥺?

This has taken me long enough so lets just dive in

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of sex

Born in the early 1890s in Belarus. He fought in the first World War and was in his early twenties by that time.

Migrated to New York after the war and became an enforcer for the mob.

Vampire! John is not a hitman, he's a crime boss (it makes more sense to me, I'm not entertaining arguments lol)

He was turned in the late 1940s by his then girlfriend (later wife), Helen. By then John had already rose to the highest rungs of the mob.

Helen was later murdered in a revenge kill in the mid 1950s.

Tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, a collection of vintage muscle cars. He wears a pinky ring, which is relevant to nothing, its just a detail that I like.

Broody, stoic, short tempered.

Many years after his wife's passing, John meets you. Until then, he had refrained from romantic relationships above brief flings and one night stands.

Its the smell of your blood that attracts him at first; its sweet and alluring, almost like a perfume made from the crushed roses and honey.

When you two do come face to face, its very quiet but intense. You're ready to throw caution to the wind and John is practically ready to drain you.

Make no mistake, at the beginning, for him, its about blood. He keeps a steady rotation of a few select, clean, high end escorts to keep his thirst satisfied, but none of them are enough after he meets you. John needs to taste you.

You don't have a clue of his "true" nature, but you do really like him, so you make your own advances- you're actually the first one of you two to make a move (or so you think) and when John responds well, you're thrilled.

The first bite is an absolute shock to you, he has not disclosed who he really is, possibly because he had no intention of you even remembering the experience.

Your shock and fear though, elicits a reaction he was not expecting; he does not want you to be scared of him- suddenly, he doesn't want to betray you like that either. The man who has not cared for a woman in over sixty five years, all of a sudden, can not stand to lose a woman he's only known for a few months.

John comes clean, about everything

Instead of being scared, you're fascinated. This actually explains a lot; his sensitivity to sunlight, the way he seems to drink significantly more than anyone you've ever known without getting drunk, his adept knowledge of history, his effortless, physical strength, the old photographs of a woman that look too dated to be of the century. The coldness of his touch and the way it feels like his heart wasn't beating when he held you close.

You eventually let him "taste" you. Its a couple months after he tells you the truth, when part of you is desperately curious.

He has an admirable amount of self control, because even if he likens your blood to the most intoxicating combination of liquor and honey, he doesn't want to kill you.

After this, when some more trust is reestablished, it becomes a fairly regular, extremely intimate experience. Its almost as important to your- now committed- relationship as sex. The two even mingle frequently and its absolutely euphoric when it does; the feel of his mouth drawing essence from that perfect spot on your neck, while simultaneously, he fills you up and then some. The little sting and persistent pull, coupled with the tight burn and delicious friction (okay, I'm going to far now)

John is extremely protective and territorial and this comes from a multitude of reasons including the loss of Helen, the fact that because you're human you're even more vulnerable than she was, and because he can not stand the thought of another vampire wanting you the way he does. You're his and John does not share.

He will kill for you.

But he's also surprisingly loving and attentive. He never, ever lets you spend a day wondering how he feels about you.

Sex decades of accumulated wealth means that your want for nothing and have the world at your feet. You have reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and you probably don't remember what having a maxed out credit card feels like.

John also enjoys buying you gifts himself. Though, its debatable who your collection of lingerie is really for. Lets just say that John very much enjoys the look of you in lace.

John is woefully strong- superhuman strong- so he's extra careful with you. At first, he felt very guilty about those moments where he roughed you up a little too much during sex or feeding (or both) and those instances were often teaching moments for him, even if you repeatedly promised that you were okay.

John adores being older than you sometimes, particularly because it means that he can see that stunning look of wonder on your face when he tells you about his life and all the things he's done. Its been so long since he could share those parts of himself.

You're always eager to learn about his experiences and where he's originally from but try to not push sensitive subjects like the war and his wife.

Despite John being very willing to share at times, he's still a man of few words.

*This was getting way too long but I actually have so much more on Vampire!John, inculding the possibility of "turning" his SO. Its honestly an idea I'd love to flesh out so maybe one day I'll write something more detailed.

[likealittleheartbeat]

"Scholars often dismiss physique references to ancient Greece as a mere ruse or rhetorical framework--a "classical alibi" or "discourse of validation"--to avoid censorship. But an examination of the lives of the founders, contributors, and members of the [physique studio and pictorial] Grecian Guild [1955-1968] tells a different story. The Grecian Guild was instrumental in helping a community of men struggling to find a discourse to explain and valorize their sense of themselves, particularly men outside of urban gay enclaves. Benson and Bullock [the founders of the Grecian Guild] took a discourse about ancient Greece that gay men had been using for nearly a hundred years and gave it mass distribution. They used it like gay men used reference to "the Greeks" or Mary Renault novels--as a way to signal their homosexuality. It was a rallying cry that brought in customers and helped them imagine a better world. As historian and biographer Benjamin Wise argues about the way Alexander Percy used the language of Hellenism, it was "a way of speaking out and covering up at the same time."

Invoking classical traditions in order to make an argument for gay rights has been largely forgotten in the twenty-first century, as such a line of argumentation has become politically and historiographically problematic. Indeed, much of modern LGBT historical scholarship and queer theory has asserted that a homosexual identity is a creation of a modern, capitalist world--that homosexual behavior in ancient cultures was understood in very different terms from the way it is today. Invoking classical antiquity also smacks of a Western bias that privileges European ancestry over other cultural and historical influences. Such arguments also raise the specter of pederasty and pedophilia--or at least age-discordant relationships--that play into the hands of gay rights opponents who relentlessly use the argument that gays recruit children to fight gay rights measures...

Despite these changes in cultural understandings and sensibilities, the use of the classical Greek trope to name gay organizations, periodicals, and commercial ventures continued for decades, even when the need for an alibi had eroded if not disappeared. The lambda or lowercase Greek "L" became one of the primary symbols of the 1970s gay liberation movement. During this same period Seattle's largest gay organization was the Dorian Group, and a Jacksonville, Florida-based gay magazine called itself David--a reference to Michelangelo's Renaissance statue--an indirect link to the classical tradition. Like the Grecian Guild, David offered membership in a fraternal organization with features such as a book club, a travel service, conventions, and even legal aid. As an online website, it continues to serve as one of Atlanta's premier LGBT news and entertainment sources.

...

While severely limited by the forces of censorship, the desire to create opportunities for customers to correspond, meet, and get acquainted attests to the palpable wish of gay men to connect with each other during this period. If few members attended a Grecian Guild convention, the possibility of doing so resonated widely. As a teenage Grecian Guild subscriber in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, Michael Denneny read the articles so carefully that he underlined the important parts. "That was proto-political organization, the agenda was very clear to me, and I think to everybody else who joined," Denneny remembered..."These magazines were really important to me," Denneny recalled. "They brought this whole possible world into being, which I'm not sure I could have visualized otherwise."

David K. Johnson, Buying Gay: How Physique Entrepreneurs Sparked a Movement

[averseunhinged]

*runs at full speed shrieking through the room and hurls wip at the curse*

If you’d told Klaus a month ago that he’d be spending a Tuesday evening in January winding his Land Rover through one of the poshest areas of the Hollywood Hills, submitting himself to more security checkpoints than Buckingham Palace, shouldering a provisional contract and an NDA so dense and complicated that even Finn, the dullest, most detail-oriented entertainment attorney Klaus had ever known, had been winded by it, and getting an uncomfortably thorough pat down from a woman whose physique put Finn's wife, a former professional wrestler, to shame, he would have called you delusional.

It's a pity he can’t tell Rebekah he’s been conscripted into the Fang Bunny Army. He's lived through five or six rounds of his sister’s membership. Of every album release becoming an event, every award on par with a coronation, every tour a gauntlet of ticket sale shenanigans and elusive meet-and-greet passes, weeks of outfit crises, and transportation horrors. Bekah would shriek herself hoarse when she found out he hadn’t so much as hinted at having been personally summoned by her favorite popstar.

It isn’t only the money that's brought him to this point. For the first time in years, he feels truly intrigued by a potential project. His bread and butter might be plentiful and filling, but his greatest achievement to date is an obnoxiously catchy, instantly recognizable twenty second loop from Kitten Crashers, a cat racing game from 2011, that rarely leaves the trending sounds list on both TikTok and Instagram. It's work, and he's glad to have it, but it isn't high profile by any stretch of the imagination. Not anywhere near the level of Caroline Forbes.

Her teen years spent playing the shrewish, older sister on some Disney Channel nightmare and later a starring turn in Vampires of Venice Beach, an inexplicable mega-hit at the box office, it included an original ballad by Caroline herself on the soundtrack. Critics weren't kind to the song, but it was everywhere you turned for over a year. Their assessment wasn’t entirely incorrect. The melody was banal and the instrumentation derivative, but there was something to the lyrics and more than something to Caroline's voice. The song netted her first Grammy nomination. It was by no means her last.

Which is to say, he's not sure why he's being escorted by security into an old mansion in the Hills. He does just fine these days with scores and commercial background music and thirty second hooks for social media, but he's not famous for it. He'd barely been famous before The Originals had flamed out spectacularly. He and Elijah are far better off without differing opinions on creative direction and an unfortunate predilection for falling for the same woman at the same time. The fallout from the Petrova twins had been explosive and there hadn't been any option but to break up the band at that point. His fifteen minutes certainly aren't anything to recommend him to one of the most successful recording artists of the 21st century.

He's shown into a beautifully restored and tastefully appointed room that is mostly end to end glass, looking out over both an outdoor space and a lot of the city in the valley below, blurring in the golden sodium light of late afternoon. The man who'd taken charge of Klaus at the entrance to the house hasn't bothered introducing himself with the sort of smarmy assuredness Rebekah laps up, always to her detriment, gestures disinterestedly to a bank of comfortable seating where someone has obviously been working all day. There are notebooks, binders, an assortment of pens and highlighters, a MacBook, and two tablets on the coffee table. Two guitars sit in stands: a newer Martin with an intricate floral inlay and a vintage Gretsch he desperately wants to put his hands all over. Propped up in one corner of a sprawling couch is the same brilliant cobalt Jumbo she's famously played since she was eighteen. The woman in question is pacing by the pool, phone in hand, having an animated conversation.

The other man doesn't bother going all the way to the open doors before bellowing, "Wrap it up, gorgeous! Your five o'clock's on time."

Without turning around, the queen of Spotify lifts one hand and presents them with her raised middle finger.

"She'll be with you in a moment," the man says, mild and amused, on his way out of the room. "Don't worry. You're probably already in her good books. Loves punctuality, that one. Bit of a freak that way."

Even though Klaus knows how all of this works, the photoshoots and the costumes, the makeup and wigs, he's still a little surprised by how different she is in person. She looks well enough when she trots inside, but she's still barefoot in leggings and an old, worn soft shirt, advertising the Mystic County Sheriff's Department softball team in faded, cracking letters. Her blonde curls are piled artlessly on top of her head, and there's red irritation around her eyes, nose and mouth from wearing and removing stage makeup every day for months on end.

"Hey, I'm Caroline," she says, as though her name hasn't been synonymous with breathy, acoustic pop for the past decade, and waves a little awkwardly.

"Klaus Mikaelson," he replies automatically, as though she doesn't know who's been delivered to her very nice home with its very expensive view. And then she smiles at him with her own, slightly imperfect teeth, and the only thought he has is oh no. He digs his own grave when he, without any higher cognitive input whatsoever, says, "You must never meet my brother."

[transbookoftheday]

A Kind Voice in Hell by Ames Mullery

What's a few years of bloody gladiator matches and witchcraft-for-hire when your best friend's life is on the line?

To cover the soaring costs of his best friend's life-saving healthcare Lark signs away everything he’s got—his body, his freedom, even his witchcraft—to a billionaire who plays at philanthropy for entertainment. Although Lark may have the heart of a saint, he doesn't have the patience of one. It isn't long before he begins to rock the boat and ends up threatening the very people he wants to save in his reckless heroics.

A KIND VOICE IN HELL is a story about an occult-obsessed billionaire looking for away to bring gladiators into the twenty-first century, a trans man with a hero complex who has never known illness a day in his life, and the disabled people caught in the middle. It contains queer love, found family, and a hero who needs to sit down and shut up before he tries to help anyone.

Follow Lark as he forges an unlikely alliance on the inside and weaves masterful spellwork in hopes of changing the world for the better.

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 17

1653 – Arcangelo Corelli, born in 1653 in Fusignano, an Italian village between Ravenna and Bologna, was one of the seventeenth century's most widely admired composers and performers (d.1713). His music has lasting appeal largely due to its refined sense of poise, the balance of all the forces within each composition, and its modern tonality. Some works are regarded as models of perfection, and Corelli himself has been called "a modern Orpheus." Famous not only as a composer, he was also regarded as the foremost violinist of his day. In addition, he was also admired for his skills as a music teacher.

Much of the information that exists about Corelli, especially about his early days as a student in Bologna, is unreliable. Corelli's personal life has been the subject of much speculation. Most scholars now believe him to have been discreetly homosexual. He never married and lived closely with male friends.

Corelli's rise to fame was meteoric, helped by the fact that music publishing began to proliferate in the early eighteenth century. His rise was also spurred by his influential patrons: Queen Christina of Sweden; Cardinal Pamphili, then the richest man in Rome; and the young and princely Cardinal Ottoboni, the nephew of Pope Alexander VIII. He thus enjoyed the patronage of the most influential people at a time when Rome became a flourishing center of music in Europe.

Corelli became utterly devoted to one of the Cardinal's employees, the second violinist Matteo Fornari, whom he met in 1682. According to one source, the composer was never far from Matteo's side for close on twenty years after that first meeting. This long standing intimacy is alluded to in the two fine trio sonatas dedicated to Corelli and Fornari by the younger composer Guiseppe Valentini. Fornari oversaw the publication of Corelli's Opus VI concertos after Corelli's death.

Corelli moved in the same circles as George Frideric Handel, now also widely believed to have been homosexual. Although Corelli's music influenced Handel's, Corelli claimed not to understand Handel's work, which was much fuller in texture and required more dynamic force than his own works. He said that he would be unable to play it correctly.

Corelli was admitted to the Academy in Rome, along with fellow composers Bernardo Pasquini and Alessandro Scarlatti in 1706. Two years later, he retired from public life. He died in 1713, a wealthy and widely respected man. He was buried in the Pantheon, next to the painter Raphael.

1854 – The German armaments heir Friedrich Alfred Krupp was born on this date (d.1902). The Krupp family, a prominent 400-year-old German dynasty from Essen, have become famous for their steel production and for their manufacture of ammunition and armaments.

It was under Alfred Krupp that many new products that would do much to change history were authorised. Hiram Maxim peddled his machine gun, and Rudolf Diesel brought his new engine to Krupp to construct. Fritz was, therefore, the first to bring Europe diesel engines. The programme that eventually resulted in the German U-Boat fleet was also begun during his tenure.

Brought up like Frederick the Great, to fulfill the ambitions of a father who hated him, the heir to the German munitions empire had spent much of his life waiting for his old man to die so he could cut loose. And cut loose he did, particularly in Italy, at Capri, where he consecrated a "holy" grotto - "the Hermitage of Fra Felice" - dedicated to entertaining Italian youths. Within the grotto, and dressed in the robes of a Franciscan monk, Fritz Krupp would frolic with his favorite boys as sex was accompanied by three violins and orgasms by fireworks. The crowning touch was a delightful bit of Teutonic kitsch: As in a Playboy Club, with all the bunnies adolescent males, "members" were given keys, shaped like miniature golden bullets and designed by Fritz himself.

He spent as much time as he could in Capri, pursuing his first loves of oceanography and men. For the times when he had to be in Germany, he arranged for his favorite Italian youths to work at a luxury hotel in Berlin, where he often stayed for their service and where other guests complained about the noises coming from his inner sanctum. Accustomed to enormous power — by the turn of the century he had built Krupp into the largest company in Europe — he ignored others' objections.

In 1902 he, and the painter Christian Wilhelm Allers, were caught up in a scandal involving the youths Fritz had "procured" in Capri and transported to the Bristol hotel in Berlin (after even the corrupt Capri authorities had had enough of his pederasty). A tumultuous few weeks ensued, which ended in the death of Fritz, ostensibly of a stroke, though suicide is a more probable answer.

1888 – Hans Blüher, born in Freiburg in Schlesien, (d.1955 in Berlin) was a German writer and philosopher. He attained prominence as an early member and "first historian" of the Wandervogel movement ("Wandering Birds" a youth hiking movement, often accused of fostering homosexual liaisons). His fame was aided was by his taboo-breaking rebellion against schools and the Church.

Partly received with genuine interest, but sometimes perceived as scandalous, his comments on the homosexual aspects of the Wandervogel movement and the role homoeroticism and male bonding played in the creation of European culture and institutions were fiercely combated. Blüher supported these with a theory of the Männerbund (Male Bonding).

During the transition from the German Empire to the Weimar liberal-democracy, Blüher, a radical conservative and monarchist, became a staunch opponent of the Weimar Republic. In 1928 he had the opportunity to meet the former Kaiser Wilhelm II in exile in Holland.

Blüher believed that pederasty and male bonding provided a basis for a stronger nation and state, which became a popular concept within certain segments of the Hitler Youth. Blüher later supported the Nazis but turned from National Socialism in 1934 when SA leader Ernst Röhm was murdered on Hitler's orders in the Night of the Long Knives.After 1924, Blüher, who had married a doctor and had two children, worked as a freelance writer and practicing psychologist in Berlin-Hermsdorf. He worked there after his retirement from public life during the Nazi period on his major philosophical work of 1949, Die Achse der Natur (The Axis of Nature).

1934 – On this date the British actor of stage, screen and television Sir Alan Bates, CBE was born (d.2003). In 1956, Bates debuted on stage in the West End as Cliff in Look Back in Anger, a role he had originated at the Royal Court and which made him a star. He also played the role on television (for the ITV Playhouse) and on Broadway. In the late 1950s, he appeared in several plays for television in Britain. In 1960, he appeared in The Entertainer opposite Laurence Olivier, his first film role.

Throughout the 1960s he starred in several major films including Whistle Down the Wind (1961), A Kind of Loving (1962), Zorba the Greek (1964), Phillipe de Broca's King of Hearts (1966), Georgy Girl (1966), Far From the Madding Crowd (1967), and in the Bernard Malamud film The Fixer (1968), which gave him an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

In 1969, he starred in Women in Love (in which, along with Oliver Reed he became the first actor to do frontal nudity in a major studio motion picture - and for which a generation of gay men will be eternally grateful) but he consciously decided to concentrate on a few well-defined roles, rather than to take everything that came his way..

Bates was handpicked by director John Schlesinger (with whom he had previously worked on Far From The Madding Crowd) to star in the film Sunday Bloody Sunday (1971) in the role of Dr. Daniel Hirsh. Bates was held up filming The Go-Between (1970) for director Joseph Losey, and had also become a father around that time, and so he had to pass on the project. The part then went first to Ian Bannen, who balked at kissing and simulating sex with another man, and then to Peter Finch, who earned an Academy Award nomination for the role.

Bates continued to work in film and television throughout the 1970s and 80s, and starred in such international films as An Unmarried Woman (1978), Nijinsky (1980), and also played Bette Midler's ruthless business manager in the 1979 film The Rose.

On television, his parts ranged from classic roles such as 1978's The Mayor of Casterbridge (his favourite role he said), and An Englishman Abroad (1983) (playing Guy Burgess.

In 2001, Bates joined an all-star cast in Robert Altman's critically acclaimed period drama Gosford Park, in which he played the butler Jennings. He later played Antonius Agrippa in the 2004 TV film Spartacus, but died before it debuted. The film was dedicated to his memory and that of writer Howard Fast, who wrote the original novel that inspired the film Spartacus by Stanley Kubrick.

Bates had numerous Gay relationships throughout his life, including those with actors Nickolas Grace and Peter Wyngarde, and Olympic skater John Curry. In 1994 Curry died from AIDS in Bates' arms. Even when homosexuality was partially decriminalized in Britain in 1967, Bates rigorously avoided interviews and questions about his personal life, and even denied to his lovers that there was a Gay component in his nature.

Throughout his life Bates sought to be regarded as a ladies' man or at least as a man who, as an actor, could appear attractive to and attracted by women. In the later years of his life, Bates' companion was his lifelong friend, actress Joanna Pettet, his co-star in the 1964 Broadway play Poor Richard. They divided their time between New York and London.

Dame Edna

1934 – Barry Humphries, a character actor, singer, writer, poet and painter, is known principally for the stage personas he has developed over a long career. Of these personas, the most internationally recognized is Dame Edna Everage, an Australian housewife whose sheer force of personality has enabled her to achieve the status of "International Mega-Star."

Humphries, who is heterosexual, distances himself from the notion that playing Everage is playing drag, yet he consciously performs her role with a campy excess and sensitively cultivates a gay and lesbian following. His great success as Everage has therefore come without denying the gay and lesbian contribution to cross-dressing entertainment.

Humphries was born in 1934 into an upper-middle-class family in Melbourne, Australia, where he spent a comfortable youth. His pleasant, though mundane, surroundings as a boy would later inspire his creation of Edna Everage, equally a product of understated Australian suburbia, but one catapulted into a world of glamor and sophistication by which she is slightly bewildered.

Humphries' persona of Edna Everage has earned him the most notoriety and greatest success. Performed on stage and as the hostess of a successful British talk show, An Audience with Dame Edna, the character has taken on a life of her own.

In both his theater performances and broadcasts as Everage, Humphries adopts the conceit that this Australian housewife has become fantastically successful as a celebrity and wishes to share the wisdom of her transformation.

In one particularly interesting example, Humphries/Edna invited notorious homophobe Mary Whitehouse to be interviewed on An Audience with Dame Edna. Although Whitehouse was then head of Britain's National Viewers and Listener's Association, a reactionary group fighting "inappropriate" broadcast content, she found herself on television politely chatting with a man dressed as a woman.

The queering of the socially conservative discourse spoken by both Whitehouse and Dame Edna made Humphries's implied critique a comic pleasure for most of his audience.

Humphries pursued these same queering strategies in his Broadway successes Dame Edna: The Royal Tour (1999) and Dame Edna: Back with a Vengeance (2004). He also continues courting gay men, whom he refers to as "friends of Kenny," both in the gay press and on stage and television.

Since the late '60s Humphries has appeared in numerous films, mostly in supporting or cameo roles. His credits include Bruce Beresford's Barry McKenzie Holds His Own (1974) in which Edna was made a Dame by then Australian Prime Minister Gough Whitlam.

He also had a cameo as Edna in the Robert Stigwood musical film Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (which became infamous as one of the biggest film flops of the decade). In 2003 Humphries had a role in the animated film Finding Nemo. In it he plays Bruce, a shark who attempts to curb his addiction to fish eating. He nearly falls off the wagon due to his catching a whiff of fish blood. Playing this role, given his own struggles with alcoholism, is perhaps a good example of Humphries' penchant for self-deprecation.

During 2011, Humphries travelled to New Zealand to perform the role of the Goblin King in the first instalment of Peter Jackson's three-part adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. The first film was released in December 2012, with the other two parts due in December 2013 and December 2014.

In 2015, Humphries voiced the role of Wombo the Wombat in Blinky Bill the Movie.

1972 – Billie Joe Armstrong is an American musician, singer, songwriter and occasional actor. He is best known as the lead vocalist, principal songwriter, and guitarist of the punk rock band Green Day, which Armstrong co-founded with Mike Dirnt. He is also a guitarist and vocalist for the punk rock band Pinhead Gunpowder and provides lead vocals for Green Day's side projects Foxboro Hot Tubs and The Network.

Raised in Rodeo, California, Armstrong developed an interest in music at a young age, and recorded his first song at the age of five. He met Mike Dirnt while attending elementary school, and the two instantly bonded over their mutual interest in music, forming the band Sweet Children when the two were 15 years old. The band changed its name to Green Day, and would later achieve massive commercial success. Armstrong has also pursued musical projects outside of Green Day's work, including numerous collaborations with other musicians.

He also co-owns the record label Adeline Records, with his wife Adrienne and skateboarder Jim Thiebaud, with the collaboration of Green Day's guitarist Jason White and more recently Green Day's manager Pat Magnarella.

Armstrong has identified himself as bisexual, saying in a 1995 interview with The Advocate, "I think I've always been bisexual. I mean, it's something that I've always been interested in. I think people are born bisexual, and it's just that our parents and society kind of veer us off into this feeling of 'Oh, I can't.' They say it's taboo. It's ingrained in our heads that it's bad, when it's not bad at all. It's a very beautiful thing." In a later interview for Out magazine's April 2010 issue, Armstrong stated: "There were a lot of people who didn't accept it, who were homophobic." Armstrong continued, saying, "The fact that it's an issue is kind of phobic within itself. At some point, you gotta think, this should be something that's just accepted." Armstrong added: "I don't really classify myself as anything. And when it comes to sex, there are parts of me that are very shy and conservative. I want to respect my wife."

1991 – Raymix is the stage name of Edmundo Gómez Moreno, a Mexican musician and aerospace engineer. Nicknamed El Rey de la Electrocumbia ("The King of Electrocumbia"), Raymix started his music career in the early 2010s, when he joined a trance project called Light & Wave with two other Mexican musicians. Their song "Feeling the City" was featured on the Armin van Buuren radio show A State of Trance. In 2013, Raymix was invited to work in a NASA educative internship, where he helped to develop a satellite.

Around 2015, Raymix gained popularity thanks to the song "Oye Mujer", a well-known track among tianguis sellers, sonideros, and illegal music distributors. Raymix signed with Universal Music Latin Entertainment and in 2018 he released his debut album Oye Mujer. During the same year, "Oye Mujer" was re-released as single and also was remixed and released as a duet with Colombian singer Juanes. The song both topped the Billboard Regional Mexican Airplay and Tropical Airplay charts. Additionally, it reached number 6 on the Bubbling Under Hot 100 chart, and has been certified 14× Multi-Platinum (Latin) by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and Diamond + 2× Platinum by the Asociación Mexicana de Productores de Fonogramas y Videogramas (AMPROFON).

Edmundo Gómez Moreno was born in San José El Vidrio, a community located in Nicolás Romero, State of Mexico. Multiple members of his family are musicians, including his grandfather, his cousin, and his father is a grupero musician. When he was a child, Gómez learned to play the keyboard, and his father taught him Los Tigres del Norte songs. Additionally, he learned singing and to play the drum kit, the guitar and the organ at church.

On his 18th birthday, Gómez was given a MIDI controller, with which he started to compose trance songs. Between 2011 and 2012, Gómez joined two other Mexican musicians and they created Light & Wave. Their song "Feeling the City" was featured on two episodes of the Armin van Buuren radio show A State of Trance.

Around this time, Gómez was studying aerospace engineering at the Instituto Politécnico Nacional, in Mexico City, for a space systems degree. In 2013, Gómez joined a NASA education internship, where he helped to develop an education satellite. During his time there, he listened to cumbias and, in 2014, he composed "Oye Mujer". According to Raymix, Alberto Pedraza (composer of "Guaracha sabrosona") borrowed him his loudspeakers, and with two cellphones and 3,000 pesos he recorded a music video for the song. In 2015, Gómez was unable to get a job in the US despite his academic formation and qualifications.

On 5 June 2020, Raymix released a video where he came out as gay, saying "Today I am freer, happier than ever because now I know that I can express myself as I really am", and added that some acquaintances advised him to not do so because they consider that people are not prepared for a gay regional or cumbia musician.

2010 – During Vancouver Winter Olympic coverage on the French-language sports network RDS, commentators Claude Mailhot and Alain Goldberg suggest that figure skater Johnny Weir should undergo a gender test to see if he should be competing as a woman. The Quebec Council of Gays and Lesbians subsequently files a complaint with the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council.

2011 – Facebook expands relationship language to add civil unions and domestic partners

[sun-lit-roses]

A Non-Exhaustive List of Twenty-First Century Concepts

That Chris would be genuinely enthusiastic about and Una would go along with because she likes being an agent of chaos and suffering:

Abbreviations (i.e., text speak)

(Chris: What a fun way people used to chat with each other by comms! I'll send this to the comm team so they can reference it in the weekly ship's bulletin for their 'Fun Notes.'

Una provides orders only in abbreviations for a solid month until the entire crew has memorized the article in self-defense. Then she switches to disdain and asks everyone to 'Speak in Standard, please. You're on duty.' She submits the results to Starfleet as a report on recommendations for conducting routine exercises in Handling Psychological Warfare.

This does come in handy the next time aliens try to take over the ship and the crew uses Text Speak to blatantly organize their secret rebellion out loud and frustrate their captors to no end.

Chris: I didn't realize the Fun Notes section was so popular!)

Camping rough

(Chris: Hey, you can ride horses out to the site. And there's fishing - Joseph will be happy.

Una, planning on how to sabotage their gear so this also qualifies as the required Annual Survival Training exercise everyone keeps avoiding: Excellent idea, Captain. I'll handle the supplies.)

Festive ugly sweaters

(Not sure what Federation holidays exist - Founders Day Ugly Sweater Party in the Captain's quarters? Attendance and ugly sweaters made mandatory through the XO's subtle threats. If you show up without a sweater, one will be provided. You do not want the one provided.)

Halloween

(Chris: ...and then people go through a haunted maze! Or house. Or field? I think there were variations on the theme. Unless it's a very long maze. Oh! And then everyone gathers around to eat themed snacks and watch scary visual entertainment.

Una, mentally making a list of their crews biggest fears and how to terrify the living daylights out of them via decor: That seems like a lot to plan on your own. Why don't you organize the snacks while I take care of this 'haunted experience?')

*Matching* festive ugly sweaters

(Chris: Team bonding! After all, last year's Founders Day Party went very well.

Una, with eyes already on the prize of forcing their entire senior staff into matching hideous knit monstrosities with emblems of all the Federation planets in neon colors and a row of Vulcan hand salutes around the hem: Absolutely. That will definitely build camaraderie.)

[captain-joongz]

Heroes

Pairing: non-idol!Kim Hongjoong x Reader (it's Hongjoong's POV)

Genre: angst

Summary: Hongjoong attempts to navigate a posh party after his whole life has fallen apart, while what he wants the most is standing only a few metres away from him. It doesn't help that he knows you want him too.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: it's very angsty, drinking, post break-up, forced break-up, controlling parent (let me know if i should add anything)

A/N: this whole piece is inspired by the song Heroes by David Bowie, it's just the right amount of emotional damage :')) also, this is my first time posting here, so I apologise if the formating is still a little wonky, hopefully I'll work it out soon :))

“Just… Don’t forget to be there tomorrow, okay?” Seonghwa’s voice rang out in my car and I sighed. “Don’t worry, I know I can’t afford to miss a gathering like that. Everyone that means something in this city is going to be there.” My answer didn’t seem to calm him down whatsoever, even if I couldn’t see him through my phone screen I knew as much. I stubbornly refused to address what he was talking about and instead started talking business. After a while of mindless chit-chat he tried again.

“She will be there tomorrow… I’m sure you know that. Please, Hongjoong, don’t do anything stupid.” I knew he was just trying to look out for me but I couldn’t help getting a little annoyed with him. Even after all this time, you were still a touchy subject. I sighed again, this time louder. “When have I ever done something like that?” I attempted at a joke and got a little chuckle from Seonghwa in return. “Don’t worry, my best friend turned business partner, I’ll be the picture of sainthood and patience.” Then I ended the call.

Needless to say, I was not that. I got to the garden party about twenty minutes ago and was already agitated beyond belief. Seonghwa hasn’t got there yet and I was stuck drinking white wine in a corner of a room watching old rich men laughing at stories that only old rich men find funny. I could feel my lips turning into a scowl and barely managed to look respectable and approachable to the top society.

Just a few years back, I was nothing. A little boy from a poor background who only dreamed big, but deep down knew that a world like this would never let him achieve that. I didn’t come from money like most of these men, I didn’t have centuries of generational wealth at my beck and call. I was the one they laughed at and looked down on, the one who had to fight for every penny they dropped.

I started a little company with my best friend, originally hoping to make our own indie clothing line. Just something small to give us enough money to live normally. But we needed funds to take off and so we started chasing after the kind of people we both hated begging them to sponsor us. That’s when you came into my life. And everything changed.

Back then I hated these parties as much as I do now but I didn’t know how to hide it yet. Seonghwa was much better at looking pleasant and entertained, I usually stood next to him burning holes with my eyes into anyone who wanted to talk to me. You swooped in, all wide smiles and melodic laughs and gave me a once-over.

“You look exactly how I feel.” It came out of your mouth on a laugh and I felt myself relax. “Also here to charm these bastards into giving you a bit of money?” I gave you a flirty smile and took a sip from my glass. I didn’t even remember what I ordered.

“Actually no, I’m here because one of these bastards is my father.” I froze and I heard Seonghwa next to me choke on something. You looked serious for a moment and then burst out laughing. And then you spent the entire night introducing us to people and whispering little sassy comments into our ears. I never knew one could have so much fun here.

I realised pretty quickly you are someone I will fall in love with. It never felt like a hypothetical. Loving you was absolutely inevitable. And when I did, you were there holding my hand whispering how you love me too. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And then you were gone.

You didn’t want to be, I knew that. It was your father. I met him a few times after you introduced us and he figured out pretty quickly that something was happening between us. And he didn’t like it. One day he called me into his office for lunch. When I came he only looked at me over his desk.

“My daughter will marry someone better.” That was all he said.

“Leave her alone.”

I didn’t.

We both agreed on continuing our relationship and that we would keep it a secret. Me and Seonghwa managed to sell our idea to a big wig that owned a few luxury hotels and he agreed to sponsor our humble beginnings. At this time Wooyoung and Yeosang joined us, after we hired them off an ad to model our clothes during the business meetings. Finally, our dream was taking off. It worked for a little while. You helped us a lot back then, helping us with ideas and even some sewing when we needed every hand we could get. The project was our baby, us five.

With time we grew tired of sneaking around. We became careless, too in love to think about the consequences of being seen together or getting caught by your father. And so one day we were.

Unfortunately, I don’t know the half of what happened, you didn’t want to talk about it too much. But I knew enough to understand you were leaving. I’ll always remember your teary sad eyes as you were walking out the door.

“He’ll sink your company if I don’t leave. I can’t do that to you Hongjoong, not after you worked so hard for it.”

After that I haven’t seen you again. I heard about you here and there, after all I was still in the same social circles as you. But I knew you weren’t allowed to talk to me. I would catch glimpses of you out of the corner of my eyes and then you would disappear into the crowd. That was all that was left of us.

It’s already been three hours since I came here and I was officially tired of small talk. Everyone asked me the same questions, they all wanted to know the same things.

“Congratulations on your latest release, Mr. Kim. I heard it was a success,” said one of the men my benefactor brought over to my corner. I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“It was a joint effort of the whole company,” I replied politely and looked over his shoulder to see Seonghwa laugh at something Yunho said. They came here together about 40 minutes after me due to having to solve some issues with a design we were currently working on.

“Speaking of company, I remember when it was just you and Mr. Park. It was a pleasant surprise to meet Mr. Jeong too,” said someone else, I wasn’t even paying attention to who.

“Yes, yes… There’s eight of us now, thanks to the endless support of Mr. Byun we were able to expand rather quickly,” I gestured at our sponsor and gave a business smile. “It’s a big relief as we now have enough hands on deck to work comfortably.” Conversation moved on for a little bit and I dissociated again, not listening to a single word until I felt Seonghwa move to my side. When I looked up at him he looked extremely nervous, but before I could ask one of the men directed the topic back to me.

“You know… I really wasn’t expecting you to show up. Considering…” he chuckled a little bit and I felt myself stiffen. There was a mean glint to his eyes and I knew they all will properly enjoy making me uncomfortable with this.

“Yes, considering…” someone else added with a smirk, “Have you met the host of tonight’s party yet?” Silence fell and everyone looked at me expectantly. The host of tonight's party, as in Mr. Lee – as in your father. Even though our relationship was never quite made public, it was a well-known matter. Just as our break-up, no matter how hard Mr. Lee tried to make it disappear. He was thoroughly embarrassed by his daughter entertaining the advances of such a low-born as me, but his desperation to keep this all under wraps was what made it even juicier for everyone to talk about. That’s how I found myself in this exact same position every time I chose to show my face at these events.

Before I could say something, Seonghwa stepped in with his gentle polite shut-down. “Yes, we’ve all said our hellos to him when we came here,” he said and smiled in that way me and Yunho knew meant he was two minutes from distributing slaps. It was a lie, but one said with such nonchalance that everyone believed this boring outcome to be true. They hoped for blood and instead got this. From there the conversation quickly moved on to different topics and no one brought it up again. Eventually the men saw someone more interesting and dispersed, leaving only me, Seonghwa and Yunho.

“Thanks, if I had to answer that one more time I’d murder someone,” I said to Seonghwa with what was supposed to be a laugh but instead came out as a bitter chuckle. My fingers tightened around my glass and I attempted to calm the swirling vortex of uncomfortable emotions currently wreaking havoc on my psyche. Admittedly, I was doing a pretty shit job at it.

“Man, these vultures really never change,” Yunho whispered with a smile and clasped his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed few times to give me courage and then let go. I smiled tiredly at him and clanked our glasses together. “That they never do…”

I was glad both of these men were here. Where Seonghwa was all cold and polite, Yunho came in with amusing stories and boyish charms. Once you started listening to him, he soon had you wrapped around his little finger and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. It was very useful at directing conversation and distracting people when they started asking stupid questions.

Seonghwa hasn’t said anything yet and when I looked at him, he was still watching me with that same sadness and nervousness from before. “You haven’t left this spot since you came, don’t you at least want to move into the garden for a little while?” he said finally and I realised he was in his full mothering mode. As I opened my mouth to give him a funny retort, my eyes flitted around the room and suddenly I was looking straight into your eyes. The words got stuck in my throat and instead came out a little strangled noise of surprise. You waved at me subtly and smiled a little. I awkwardly did the same. Then you turned around and walked out. My hand automatically reached for a fresh glass of wine and I drank it in almost a single gulp, which freaked out Seonghwa.

“Maybe we should go, we did what we came here to do anyway…” he said and reached for me but I refused. “If we leave now it will be considered in bad taste,” I retorted, “Don’t worry about me, go out there and make me proud. I’ll just stay here and keep myself out of everyone’s way.” Yunho laughed at my words but Seonghwa still looked concerned. In the end, he let himself be dragged out into the gardens. I stood there alone. Right, since you left, I was anyways.

I kept myself occupied by drinking, which wasn’t really the best idea. When I looked out of the window again, it was already dark outside and most of the people moved back in. You were back in too. I heard you, heard your laugh as you held conversation with someone. It felt as close as if you were standing right next to me, laughing to something I said. As if on instinct I looked after the source of the sound and our eyes met for the second time that evening. You nodded. I did too. I felt Mr. Lee burning a hole into my side with his eyes just as I saw Seonghwa warningly shake his head. So I looked back down, right into my drink and wallowed in drunken self-pity.

I knew I should let it go. I should have let it go by now. It’s been months. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself stop thinking about you, about us. How could I when you were so abruptly torn out of my life? Inappropriate relationship my ass. Embarrassment my ass. Everyone knew anyway. That I love you and you love me. I didn’t understand why it was a problem. I guess I just wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t wealthy enough. I would still take care of you, better than anyone could. I would give you anything, everything you asked for. So why? Why was it a problem?

I took another sip from another glass and looked at you again. I could feel Seonghwa’s disapproving energy from across the room but I ignored it. Things started blurring together, so I just stood around frowning and drank. When I could see clearly again you were gone. I lost you a long time ago and yet you still disappear.

The party was still in full swing, people now drunk enough to loosen up. All around me it was buzzing with laughter and small-talk, the men switching to joking about their wives while still pretending to talk business while the ladies emboldened by alcohol started making eyes at the young waiters. I made a disgusted face and prayed for these poor souls.

I couldn’t see Seonghwa nor Yunho anymore either and I was trying to persuade myself to move so I could find them and we could finally leave. But before I managed to move a single finger a voice tore me out of my thoughts. A sweet familiar voice.

“Hey…” It was you. You were standing on my right, close to the doors that led outside. I didn’t even notice you get there, too preoccupied with feeling sorry for myself. My heart was beating out of my chest. It was beating so hard I was afraid it was going to jump right out, right into your hands. That’s where it belonged anyway.

“Hi.” I croaked out and then embarrassedly cleared my throat. You laughed. God, how I missed that. I was just stuck looking at you with heart eyes, not even comprehending that this was really happening. Suddenly I realised that the room quieted down a little bit. The people that were present pretended to still have their conversations while straining their ears to listen to us. A fierce wave of anger ran through me but it died down as soon as I saw you gesturing to the open door.

“Do you maybe want…?” you didn’t even have to finish and I was already moving out with a scowl on my face aimed at everyone who was watching us with curious eyes. As soon as I came out panic hit me and I turned around. You must have seen the fear and laughed a little. “My father is currently in the saloon playing billiard and smoking cigars with the esteemed gentlemen, so it’s okay,” you said and sat down on of the chair on this little balcony. It was overlooking the prettily light up gardens. It was almost a romantic setting if the situation was different. I chuckled bitterly and sat down into the other chair.

I took the time to look at you properly. You were wearing a light pink dress. It was a very conservative cut, making you look almost like a happy housewife from the 50s. I let out another chuckle and you only raised an amused eyebrow at me. Your hair was longer too.

“I see that father has a say in your wardrobe too, now.” It wasn’t the best opening line. Definitely not something you say to someone you haven’t seen in months. The amusement was replaced by sadness and you looked really awkward for a moment. I wanted to slap myself for ever even opening my stupid mouth.

“You know, have to make the right impression…” you said quietly and silence took over. I hated it. I hated everything and most of all I hated your father.

“You realise that he’s going to hear about us talking anyway, right?” I asked you and took a sip. It was the last of wine I had, so I just set the glass on the table and instead nervously played with my fingers. Not holding anything allowed me to see just how much were my hands shaking. I looked over and you were also nervously smoothing out your dress over your thighs.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to kill us both but whatever,” came your response. You wanted it to sound nonchalant but we were both too anxious and running on pure adrenalin. But then you gave me a blinding smile and my heart almost broke all over again.

“Yeah, yolo or whatever,” I mumbled and looked into the garden. I heard you laugh and forbid myself from looking. My hands started to rise so I could drink but halfway through I remember I finished it already. So I let them down again. It was the middle of summer but thanks to the late hour, the weather became much more pleasant. I loosened my tie and made myself more comfortable in the chair.

The silence was slowly becoming oppressive as neither of us really knew what to say to the other. I gritted my teeth together and slowly counted the uncomfortably spent seconds slowly ticking away.

“I’m engaged.”

It felt as if the whole world was suddenly thrown askew. If I wasn’t sitting it would feel as if I was falling down the stairs. Slowly I turned to look at you. There were tears on your face. I realised that my eyes were also getting wet. Shit, either I’m too sober to have this conversation or I’m too drunk to not make a fool out of myself. My hand subconsciously moved to lay over my heart, as if to check if it was still beating. It felt as if it wasn’t, wouldn’t really surprise me.

“So this is why you wanted to talk outside…” I said slowly and suddenly my words were slurring more together. It was hard to speak over the emotions of my whole life crumbling to dust.

“Don’t you want to know with who?” you asked quietly. I could see you were too afraid to look at me properly, only glancing over from the corner of your eyes. I scoffed at your question.

“I can imagine with who. Your father has a clear type,” I said bitterly, “Probably with someone that can afford to golf with him in the country club.” You were silent and I knew you were crying. So I turned around again and looked into the garden, stubbornly ignoring the tears about to drop from my own eyes.

“We could run away together…” you whispered and I spun around again. “What!?” I almost screamed that and then checked if anyone inside heard. It seemed that no one noticed. I turned to you again. “What do you mean? Are you serious?” It was absolutely stupid idea. I started regretting not being more drunk. But then I looked at your face and saw your desperation and I realised. You mean it. You’re absolutely serious.

A lightning of hope flashed through me so strongly it almost jerked my whole body. But as soon as it appeared it was gone too. There was no way anything good would come out of that. Your father would cut you off and he’d make sure none of us ever found any respectable job. I couldn’t take everything away from you like this. I wouldn’t. Still I smiled at you and said yes. We both knew.

“We could, you could come to live with me and Seonghwa. He’d nag us all the time but all of us would have movie nights…” I whispered and finally felt the tears trickling down my face. I didn’t even bother to try and wipe them away. When I looked over you were crying too.

“We could just get up right now and leave and never come back,” you said. Neither of us made a move to get up. We just looked at each other. “I would help you with your company, I’d sew again…”

“We’d live off convenience store snacks and whatever Wooyoung brought over for us.” We laughed at that, remembering how he was always pretending to be mad at us for eating at his place too much.

“We’d be together forever… We’d win…” you whispered and I couldn’t hold back the sob that fought its way out. I had to turn away from you for a moment to try and compose myself, even though I heard you crying right next to me. We knew it was impossible, but for a few sweet moments we let ourselves imagine our life together. No one spoke then and after a little while I heard rustling of you getting up.

I didn’t want to look. I didn't want to see you leave and I didn't want you to see me cry. But I knew I’d never see you again and everything be damned, I wouldn’t waste my last chance to lay my eyes on you.

You smiled and even with your face all wet and red and puffed up from crying, you were the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

“I better go,” you whispered again and gestured to the door, “before my dad finds out.” I laughed at the irony of the words. And then I nodded. “Yeah… See you.” The hopeful tone I said those words in was completely against my will. I wouldn’t. But I wanted to believe. You didn’t reply to that and then you slipped inside, forever slipped out of my reach.

I don’t know how much time passed, but when Seonghwa found his way to the balcony, I was still numbly sitting in the chair looking out into the gardens with dried tears on my face. Within few seconds he was on me, holding my shoulder and looking at me with gentle sad eyes, asking me what happened. I was silent. When he was guiding me back inside, I was silent. When Yunho saw us and walked over with concern written all over his face, I was silent. When we were walking out, while we were driving back home, when we were standing in the elevator taking us up to our flat, I was silent. All I could do was wish. Wish we could be heroes, just for one day.

A/N: hope you liked it! don't be shy ^^