#ugh I was so emotional walking by the banner every time

[monamipencil]

uhmm??? this was sooo goood??? (SPOILERS BELOW)

and i love ur editing skills. the banner looks so fucking good and amazing. your format is amazing too omgg.

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

i snorted so loudly lmao

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

*squeals into the pillow* why tf did i like that so much? “ i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.” *dies*

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them. yet his eyes are on you.

shit—that’s so hot. wtf kim mingyu

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

i love her so much. she’s so snarky and funny lmao

the bickering–asdfghjk. god i love them so much already. It feels so real and not forced. 

“did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

they shud just fuck each other atp

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

lmaoooo. I love the duo, your honor 

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

at this point, i should highlight the entire story and label it as my fav part?? every scene is so good and engaging??? op, i love you <3

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

jee– kim mingyu, 

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

sighs have i perhaps mentioned that i like their chemistry and pairing? i dont think i did 

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat. the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

this scene was so cute 🥺

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

ugh, no one talk to me, im way too soft rn

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

lmao, i love this oc like no other. op, you crafted her so well!!

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

their little vulnerable moment—oh pls, this was so soft and sweet

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

lmao, ofc

because you don’t hate him anymore.

screeches into the void i’ll actually cry, if they dont end up together, happily.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

“sweetheart” *bangs head on the wall * asdfghjkllkjhgfds, THIS SCENE >>>>

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

i am speechless and breathless. this is so hot and sweet and soft?? wtf. op, op, OP. your writing skills are divine. 

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] [ TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.” 

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.” 

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.” 

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

the second half of this fic will be released in a couple days time. thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[thekingofdoorsbitch]

showmethehotpods replied to your post // We just got home about 30 minutes ago from...

((That sounds like an amazing time!))

// DON’T GET ME STARTED CAUSE I HAVE PICS. I saw lots of boobs and dick x’DDD and just so much love and support. In Georgia it’s terrifying to be openly gay at all of any manner but, it was so refreshing to just be me and seeing others embracing other people being themselves and being respectful. there was a whole banner signed from people in Orlando and it was sectioned off in memory of the struggles of LGBT+ and in respect of those who died. It was amazing.

[strawwritesfic]

Bruce Banner x Pregnant!Female!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 6]

Summary: Anger isn’t the only emotion that can take over a life.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Miscarriage

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; miscarriage; miscarriage caused by fictional conditions; angst; depression; domestic strife; marital separation; discussion of abortion; foul language; crude humor; not canon compliant; Bruce & Tony friendship; Tony & Reader friendship; Pepper & Reader friendship; OC child of canon pairing)

Pairing(s): Bruce Banner/Female!Reader; past!Bruce/Natasha; Tony/Pepper; Clint/Laura

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 6: Lost

A huge white moon hung above the Manhattan skyline only a few days after your powwow with Tony and Bruce in the nursery. Fall was swiftly turning into winter, but the chill in the air could not stop you from enjoying a quiet walk to the car with your husband. All you had to do was bundle up–coat, scarf, mittens, all–and you would be fine. Besides, you were having too good a time to feel the cold.

“You have got to be kidding me!” you said.

Your cheeks were actually starting to hurt from smiling so much. Who knew dinner out on the town with Bruce could be so grand? You had spent the entire meal discussing possible names for your child, and the subject continued even then as you made your way to your distantly parked car.

“Nu-uh. No. No. We are not naming our kid that,” you went on.

For once, Bruce seemed to be as happy as you were. You were already connected by one hand each, arms swaying beside you, but he neared to bump you affectionately with his shoulder as well.

“I’m not kidding,” he said. “What’s wrong with Eugene?”

“It’s a nerd name!” you cried, following this with a peal of laughter that caused several surrounding pedestrians to stare at you.

He chuckled softly in response. “Are you calling me a nerd?”

“Bruce, you are the biggest nerd I’ve ever met!” You pressed a smiling kiss to his cheek. “And I still married you, didn’t I?”

“But you don’t think anyone would marry Eugene Banner?”

“Ugh! Fine. We’ll consider Eugene. No promises, though.”

“Right. Just like we’ll consider Janice for a girl.”

“It was my grandmother’s name!” But you were already giggling again and Bruce along with you. You didn’t want the night to end, so you pulled him to a stop next to you. “I’ve had a really nice time tonight.”

“Me, too,” he said with a shy smile.

It brought to mind your first date with him. He’d been so nervous and kind that you’d thought you could marry him right then and there, though it took Bruce another year and a half to pop the question. After grinning at each other like a couple of saps for a few seconds more, he led you on your way again.

“Not going to get to do this sort of thing much in a few months, are we?”

“Not unless you want little Eugene driving everyone else in the restaurant crazy,” you said, shaking your head.

“We could get a sitter once he’s old enough.”

“Because every sitter’s dream job is a kid that could bring the house down on a whim.”

“Okay, good point. Maybe Tony, though? Bet he already has a whole floor of the tower redesigned to handle that. You know he hasn’t given up on our family moving in with his.”

“Tony and Pepper wouldn’t be bad,” you mused, “if they’re willing.”

“Trust me. He’d be willing. This is the same man that pays for us to have dates when he feels I haven’t met my monthly quota.”

“He won’t insist on that for a little while, will he? We’ll want to spend some time–”

“Yeah, that’s right. Nice and slow. No sudden movements there, Grandpa, or else I’m liable to blast your face off.”

All of a sudden, Bruce shoved you behind him. The two of you had nearly reached the parking lot he had paid to use that evening; you could see your vehicle under a streetlight ahead. But you couldn’t get there just yet. There were two men blocking your path, one in a ski mask, the other an elderly gentleman shaking like a leaf. You had stumbled into a mugging.

The man in the mask must have heard your abrupt stop, because no sooner had you registered his presence than did he whirl about. You cringed into Bruce’s shoulder. Maybe living in Manhattan should have mentally prepared you for such an event, but now that it was happening, you were honestly frightened. You could not have been in any danger, not with Bruce, and yet why did this have to happen now? The night had been going so well.

“Keep walking,” the mugger snarled, and you saw a glint of silver in his hand as he gestured at the street.

Bruce didn’t move, except to slowly lift his hands into the air.

“I said get moving! Nothing to see here.”

“How about,” said Bruce, in what you teasingly called his “therapist voice,” “you put that gun down before someone gets hurt?”

“How about you keep stepping, Pops, before I have to do the hurting?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to do this.”

For all the serenity in Bruce’s tone, you could feel how truly stiff he had gone. He wasn’t a fighter; that was, he didn’t like to fight. Leaving buildings leveled and bad guys greasy smears on the asphalt wasn’t something he took pleasure in. But he was also a good man, and you knew he wouldn’t leave a scared old person alone just to avoid a fight. Besides, if the mugger took a shot, Bruce wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

The mugger stepped back, almost straight into his intended victim. “You don’t know what I want to do!” he shouted. His shaking hands lifted.

Oh no. You squeezed your eyes shut just in time to hear a massive bang. Again, you flinched into your husband’s shoulders…but they were no longer human shoulders. They expanded beneath your hands. You stumbled backward and onto the cement just in time to see Bruce’s nice shirt rip to shreds as his entire back grew to gargantuan proportions.

Both mugger and victim could only stare in horror at the visage before them. Where a meek-looking man protecting his wife had once stood was now a green behemoth who took one look at them and began to beat his chest. The Hulk let out a roar so tremendous that the pavement beneath you shook.

With one last expletive, the mugger tossed his gun aside and took off in the direction you had been headed when this all began. Unfortunately for him, the Hulk had decided not to take his crap and moved a lot faster than the average human being. Still snarling, he started his pursuit, leaving you alone with the old man and a handful of onlookers several blocks down.

“What in heaven’s name–” the man said tremulously.

Crane his neck as he might, there was nothing left to see of the Hulk or the assailant now. The only sign that what had just happened had really just happened was the sound of distant crashing. You hoped this wouldn’t be another night for Bruce to spend in jail. The police didn’t take kindly to his destroying entire blocks of the city to take care of one criminal most of the time. If Tony wasn’t in town to bail him out, it might take even longer to get Bruce home.

“That was just–my husband,” you said, wincing as you attempted to stand up after having toppled so far as to nearly bump your head against the ground earlier. “He’ll be fine.”

“I can tell,” he said, still eyeing the corner around which the two had disappeared as he walked to you. Once there, he stuck his hand out. “I appreciate the help. Are you all right, ma’am?”

“Fine, thank you.” Your heart-rate was starting to slow a bit, anyway.

You would be able to get into the car once your legs stopped feeling like Jell-O, too, since you were the one with the car keys. In a few minutes, you’d see about calling Tony in to help search for Bruce. Gratefully, you took the man’s offered hand and allowed him to help you to your feet.

Then a tremendous pain shot across your abdomen.

You crumpled back to the cement with a wordless cry. Somewhere above, you heard the man shout “ma’am” again before he ran off . A few seconds later, you heard his voice from far away, shouting “sir, your wife, come back” repeatedly–presumably for Bruce.

You needed Bruce. But you couldn’t hear him destroying things anymore; you couldn’t hear anything but the burbled sobs breaking out of you as you attempted to hold yourself together.

Something was wrong–horribly, terribly, awfully wrong–but you didn’t know what. Your entire lower half throbbed and throbbed and throbbed and throbbed. It felt like you had been torn open. You had never felt this sort of pain before.

Bruce was coming, wasn’t he? You couldn’t continue as you were. You had to be strong for when he arrived.

A pair of hands came down to steady your thrashing head. The face that appeared shortly thereafter did not belong to Bruce. It did not even belong to the gentleman from before. It was another man entirely, younger, with a thin blond mustache, and beyond him you could vaguely see other people watching the show.

“Miss, you have to calm down,” said the man. “You have to tell me what’s the matter. Calm down. Please calm down.”

All you did was shake your head. It hurt. Things were beginning to come together. You wanted to say that you were sorry, but you couldn’t get your lips to shape the words. You gasped through your tears. Just as you did, the man’s eyes traveled down your body–and he paled.

“Good Lord, she’s bleeding. She’s bleeding. Someone call an ambulance!”

He disappeared from your field of vision. You took several deep breaths to try to calm yourself enough to stop moving. This was a vain attempt; your muscles continued to spasm without your telling them to. Everything made the pain worse: moving, breathing, pumping blood.

Where was Bruce? Where was the Hulk, even?

“The ambulance is on its way,” said the man from before as he returned to your sight. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

You attempted to smile back. That was what you were always expected to do, right? Smile, so that your husband could smile. Surely he was there somewhere in the throng around you. This was the one time you couldn’t manage.

“Bruce?” you whispered, but the man looking after you didn’t answer. Or maybe he did, a little too late. Before you could hear his response, your world went dark, still, and quiet, save for the sound of sirens coming your way.

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

Hi a 🍰 pls?

Appearance: over 18, she/her, 5’3 115lbs hourglass figure, long wavy dark hair and hazel/green eyes. I like to wear makeup and experiment with colorful makeup and I have a edgy, sexy, chic style 🥀

Personality: ISTJ, Capricorn ☀️&🌙 Ravenclaw, Introvert, I am generally a very chill person, I do tease and am sarcastic but I try not to take it too far. Not necessarily the mom friend more like the annoyed aunt lol I tend to show affection like a cat kinda hot and cold but my love language is touch and action. Dry send of humor! I would say my worst traits are that I seclude myself when I’m upset and can be selfish/self centered, am a pro procrastinator and low-key like to complain/rant about things that aren’t a big deal 👀 THRIVE in quiet cozy place🍄

Other Facts: I rlly enjoy animals, (I adore my cat and aquariums, everyone should own fish they are the best🐠) gardening, baking, my eyeshadow is my creative outlet and I am almost always listening to music and will spend hours making playlists I like all genres with the exception of hardcore screamo, any country that came out after 2010 🎵 I work as a barista and in a greenhouse and don’t like driving, also like sweets, candles and perfume and I LIVE for cozy rainy days🌸

Relationship stuff: I would say I’m generally low maintenance in a relationship, we don’t have to spend every moment together but spending quality time is important. I can’t handle it when people get super emotional (like lose their temper or frustrated easily) I love cuddling and taking care of them,💙

Your blog is one of my favorites to follow, writing is top notch;)

@sarcasticjellyfish

Romantic Matchup

Iwaizumi Hajime

How Y’all Met

AHHHHGGGGGG

YALL HAD THAT CLASSIC BARISTA CUSTOMER LOVE TROUPE!!!!!

Ok...I’m calm now

So he would always came to the coffee shop where you worked

But he always came at the Exact. Same. Time.

E v e r y S i n g l e D a y

For one reason only...

You

He thought you were so beautiful!

And you always made an effort to talk to him

And even better

YOU MADE THE BEST COFFEE EVER

He swears you make it better than everyone else

But damn he could never find the balls to ask you out

Eventually word of Iwas little crush made it to Oikawa 👀

So what did he do?

Stalked you two of course 🙄

He put on his best disguise

Went to the coffee shop

And waited

Jesus he swears this was the SADDEST thing he’s ever saw

Why tf was iwa being so soft

And AWKWARD

After iwa left Oikawa went up to you

He basically told you that iwa had a crush on you but would never grow the balls to tell you

You liked iwa too so you concocted a plan...

The next day when iwa walked in he ordered his usual

You made it for him but instead of putting his name on the cup...

You put your number 🤭

Omg iwa turned RED

He stuttered out a thank you

Then left

Let’s just say you got a little date invite that night ;)

What They Love About You

He loves that you don’t need CONSTANT attention

Don’t get him wrong he loves you and would drop everything for you

But the fact that you guys can go a day or two without being with each other and it not affecting your relationship is comforting to him

He loves that you like to bake 👀

Now he himself isn’t that into baking

But he still likes the treats 😋

Bake the man some cookies 🍪

He’ll fall even more in love with you

He loves that you take care of him

Now iwa is very in tuned to his body

What it needs

It’s limits

All that jazz

But he can get carried away sometimes

And it’s those moments where you care for his overworked body and reprimand him for overworking himself

We all need that person to keep us grounded yk

UGH

I’m sorry but iwa tells dad jokes

So he loves that your humor is a little on the dryer side 😅

Favorite Things To Do Together

Honestly He LOVES when it’s pouring rain outside and he just gets to cuddle with you all day

It’s just so cozy and warm and quiet and ieufhfjrdj

He loves it

But besides from that he likes going on late night drives with you

Because every time you go for one you play one of the new playlists you made

And y’all just vibe all night

And finally

He loves to garden with you

He’s not the best gardener but he’s not half bad either!

He has a little cactus plant that’s his pride and joy 🌵

Random Hc

He’s your Uber

Ever since you two became a official couple...

He’s driven you EVERYWHERE

he also does that this where he turns the wheel with one hand

Pretty hot ngl

Iwa actually loves fishies!

So aquarium dates are a must

Iwa has a bit of a sweet tooth

So be careful with how many sweets you give him 👀

Every song iwa said he likes you’ve put on a playlist called “iwas Jams”

Astrology

If they’re operating from a base of love and mutual respect, they’ll be able to overcome most obstacles, but they must work hard.

Gemini must have freedom to think outside the bounds; they rely on their quick wits, humor and intellectual prowess to move through life at a fast pace.

Capricorn is concerned with advancement and status; they rely on following the rules and finding set, tried-and-true paths to follow toward success, no matter how long it takes.

Gemini likes to cut corners; Capricorn likes to be thorough.

These two Signs’ challenge as a couple is to learn to maintain a similar pace so they can arrive at the same place at the same time.

Capricorn is very unassuming and quiet, which stands out even more against Gemini’s outgoing, boisterous nature.

Capricorn tends to be slow, steady and stubborn while Gemini is flexible and tends to change their mind a lot.

Gemini has a quick brain that sees loopholes in an instant, while Capricorn is tough to convince that taking advantage of a shortcut is a better idea than following the well-mapped course that they know will ensure their success.

However, if these two can learn to understand and then implement one another’s approaches, they can achieve far more than they could alone.

Overall Aesthetic

Rainy Days 🌧

Someone to you - BANNERS

If the world was ending - JP Saxe

Happiest year - Jaymes Young

All of me - John Legend

[mimik-u]

“The Future” Thoughts:

Okay, ngl, I’ve been putting this watch off because I wasn’t quite ready to end the show, but 😭😭😭 y’know, that’s part of the series’s overarching thesis in a way. Things end, but life goes on and changes all the same.

So let’s do this. Let’s finish Future.

AUGHDHHDHDHS. The exercise callback!!

Djddjdjskeksjjs, Lion transporting directly onto the boombox and breaking it.

“They’ve been so protective of me these last few months since my meltdown.” 🥺

Cookie cats! The Crewniverse is already pulling out all the nostalgia stops. (Lmao, do y’all remember that meme where it was like Episode 1: Steven summons his mom’s shield by eating ice cream. And then Episode X: Steven discovers his mom was a war criminal. EIORIDDJDJDJ.)

Pearl delicately eating a bite of Cookie Cat and going scrumptious dieidjdjsjsjs.

THE GEMS SINGING COOKIE CAT AND THEN GARNET DEADPAN SAYING, “He left his family behind.” JESUS

Because I’m assuming she sees what Steven’s future holds in that very moment.

Steven anticipates the Gems to make a huge fuss of protest, but Pearl proffers an understated, “When are you leaving?”

“Uh, tomorrow!” “Oh, so soon! Well, all human adolescents need to seize their independence eventually. I’m so happy for you.” JSISJSSJ

The gems proffer their well wishes and walk away, leaving a bewildered Steven. They’re affecting a casualness that they absolutely don’t feel to try and be supportive to Steven, but it’s not exactly what he wanted. 🥺

OWOEFJDJJSSJ, PERIDOT AND LAPIS’S EXPRESSIONS AS BISMUTH FRETS.

“Listen to me, Steven! You can’t run away from yourself. Wherever you go, you’ll be there—trust me, I know.” The delivery on this is so funny, but also, yikes!! JEJDJDJS.

Peridot crying. 🥺 “Where am I going to find a Steven as good as you, huh? I like this one so much.”

AWH, STEVEN GIVING PERI ONE OF HIS SHIRTS!! I think this is a really subtle callback to “Catch and Release” when she asked what a shirt was, lmao

OH, MY GOD!! THAT ART SET FOR LAPIS!!!!!

AUGH THE ORIGINAL CRYSTAL GEM FLAG BC ONCE UPON A TIME, BISMUTH WAS INSECURE ABOUT REALLY BEING A CG AFTER WHAT SHE’D DONE. AUGSHHDHDHSHSHSHSHS

This world doesn’t deserve Steven Universe omg

“You make me so proud to be a Crystal Gem.” I love Bismuth with my whole ass heart

“I’m going to use my tears to make a watercolor painting of you.” KWOEOFIDKDJJDDJJDJSJSNSNSNJS.

Where’s that spongebob tears of sweater meme when u need it

JASPER JUST BULLDOZING THROUGH THE WALL ROROROCOFIEJJSJSJS

Okay, as much as I love Jasper breaking through the wall again just to make an exit, I really wish we could have seen a bit more of both Steven and Jasper processing the accidental shattering. Hhhhhhh, maybe in a comic someday lmao

“Whoa, even Jasper’s more upset than my own family.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Amethyst trying to deflect by being all rambunctious and mischievous. 😭😭😭😭😭

Golf Quest Mini is that game Steven played the first time he went into Rose’s room, wasn’t it?

Pearl playing the bass 🥺🥺 I mentioned this in my movie write up, but I really love this new bond she has with Greg over music.

And Pearl doing a good job of deflecting, too. Hhhhhhhehshshhshshs, y’all. 😭😭😭😭

“Well, bust my britches. It’s Steven Universe.”

AWH, THE WEDDING SCRAPBOOK

“And I hope that one day, you can help me plan my own.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Steven crying as Garnet warps away has me emo. Y’allllllllll. Have a proper emotional reaction, pl e a s e

I know it’s coming. I know that’s the purpose of this episode, but oh my. Go d 😭😭😭 My poor boy.

The emptiness of his room now that he’s almost done packing. 😭😭😭

“You’re allowed to have feelings, even petty ones. They love you, kiddo. They’re probably just trying to be supportive.” 😭

Ugh, I love Greg Universe.

HHHHHHHH, GREG MOVING INTO THE BEACH HOUSE. THE KERRY MOONBEAM POSTER SUVH SMSNJSJSSJJSS

“I guess the Gems are going to swap one Universe for another.” There’s definitely a double meaning in this sentence. 😭

“It makes a kinda karmic sense that I just can’t resist.” 😭😭😭😭

Connverse kiss. 🥺

STRVEN YEETING THE BACK FUCK UP EKEOOEODJDKSOWISSIWOODOCOSOWKEMSKKSSKSN

“What’s wrong with you, guys?! Aren’t you sad I’m leaving?!”

THERE WE GO @ THE GEMS BURSTING INTO BIG ASS TEARS.

“Pearl agrees.” KWOEOFOFOIDIEKDIIDDIIDJSIDIDISIE

Oh, god okay. Them crying and hugging each other is all I needed from this episode 😭

“In fact, I’ve already planned over 363 versions of it.” KWKEKDJDJDS

“And we are a part of all of them. Wherever you end up, we will visit you to talk, to listen, to be there, whenever you need us. We love you, Steven.” I’M EMO 😭😭😭😭😭

I’m so glad that Dee Dee Magno Hall gets one more sob cry in 😭😭

THE TOWNIES SND THEIR GOODBYE BANNER AUSHSHJSHSHS

And Steven drives off into the distance as the sky glitters brilliantly above him.

His future is bright, full of stars.

This series—all of it—fundamentally changed my life. Thank you, Rebecca Sugar, and thank you, Crewniverse.

As thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me as I’ve wrapped up Future. It’s been amazing. 🖤

Final Ep. Thoughts: Kdeoksjdjsjs, this one really needed to be thirty minutes long, but my god, did they pull off a perfect last few minutes. 

Final Future Thoughts: I might write more on this later, but overall, not only do I think Future was an amazing installment in the series, but it was essential for the incredible work it did in showing the consequences of deep, lasting childhood trauma. That’s not a storyline you often see in media, especially as laid bare as the Crewniverse did with Steven’s story. I think it was a little rushed at times—I would have loved to see some more fallout from the bigger arcs (the shattering/Greg and Steven’s fight/more of Steven’s recovery), but I absolutely understand that the Crewniverse was working with time constraints. It’s an imperfect work, but as our very own Greg Universe said, if every porkchop were perfect... then we wouldn’t have hot dogs.

[tartagliaxx]

hi. i only got to play in inazuma today so here's me live reacting to the archon quest. it's a lil out of context tho so have fun trying to figure out which parts im talking abt. also, this is the only time i'm going to be talking abt spoilers for at least one week so... 🤷‍♀️

swordfish ii? cute.

Jesus Christ. and here i thought it was my lowest settings that made his hair grey… this poor kid. teppei i admire your determination but no… just no...

SCARAMOUCHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

IF EVIL WHY SO HOT

you know.... scaramouche could stand still and the air would get electrified. and yknow,,, that's p... that's p attractive

ugh im disgusting myself. and here i thought i still had an inch of sanity left in me.

of all people it had to be this little jerk

scaramouche is so fucking evil. i’d like ten of him, please.

man,, they expect me to dodge this shit? that’s the biggest l i’ve heard today. none of that shit. i’m bringing out my zhong and my sweet madames skrrt

sayu is adorable… i remember when i had hopes of growing up too… alas, it has come to this.

OH MY GOD AYATO CRUMBS. I AM LICKING THAT SHIT UP. PLEASE— HE HAS A SECRET UNIT. THATS SO HOT WTF. AYATO MY DEAR, PLEASE DONT BE A REGULAR ICKY NPC BUT WHITE HAIRED…

SNEAKY SNEAK. SNEAKY SNEAK.

THOMA OH MY GOD MY MALEWIFE. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? also, sayu’s sleeping again. this girl’s got talent. is her circadian rhythm okay?

pains me to be the bearer of all bad news and no good news…

WAIT THOMA IS LEAVING NO DONT LEAVE YET I WANT TO LOOK AT YOU MORE

oh nvm he’s still in the background.

EYY WHATS UP AYAKA. YOU’RE AS FINE AS EVER.

i… i don’t like where this is going… i refuse to be the bait. i’m too hot for that. so spicy they’ll spit me right out

DONT VOLUNTEER YOURSELF LUMINE— GIVE ME AN OPTION OR AT LEAST AN ‘OH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN’ LINE

YES FIREWORKS THAT WOULD WORK RIGHT? PLEASE TELL ME THAT WOULD WORK-

oh thank god… wait... they… they wouldn’t ask me to be the one to set off the fireworks right?

UNFORTUNATELY NO. AFTER YOU BECOME A FREE MAN, YOU’RE IMMEDIATELY MARRYING ME THOMA ANJKFHAIGHLANGKLAHOFJLKAB

oh crap… i’m… i’m in deep.

HE’S BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING US AGAIN EVERY DAY SINCE HE GOT THERE ANFLaglvbajlfblabvljabefva;bfalLJBLJDABVBAALSNADL tumblr user @tartagliaxx is broken. she is now irreparable. she has no regrets. goodbye.

ehem… what if… you and i… and hotsprings… together?? JUST KIDDING. PG-13 OVER HERE. NOTHING INDECENT WHATSOEVER MOVE ALONG NOW

poor thoma,,,

oh come on ayaka… cut us some slack… i just watched lumine wheeze bc of evil purple mist only to be dragged into 2 timeskips and an entire training arc. dont let her be yet another traumatized shounen manga protagonist… altho, it might be uh… too late for that…

oh dear… is thoma going to get another round of diarrhea?

OF COURSE. OF COURSE IT’S ME DOING ALL THE WORK. OF COURSE IT’S ME WHO’S RISKING MY LIFE ALL OVER AGAIN. GOD! GIVE LUMINE A BREAK. BEING A TRAVELER DOES NOT MEAN IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE.

hello yoimiya… still looking as bomb as ever i see……… mhm… gonna see myself out rn…

HELP MY SHITTY GRAPHICS COMPLETELY ERADICATED HER BROWS

oh god… are we dying because of fireworks? forget getting caught by the patrol… we’re about to light up an untested firework that was made to be a billion times more explosive….

NO. SHE SAID IT. SHE SAID THE CURSED SENTENCE. WHATS THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN? IDK YOU TELL ME. YOU JUST SENTENCED US TO DEATH YOIMIYA GREAT GOING still love you tho.

man… these patrol guards aint shit… i literally walked an inch behind their backs and they did nothing… its a surprise the rebellion still hasn’t won when they place guards like this in their ranks………. ok that was kinda mean i’ll apologize in a bit.

SAYU OMG… DONT WORRY I’LL SNEAK YOU OUT AND RISK MY LIFE willingly JUST TO RESCUE YOU. ILYSM HONEY YOU’RE DOING SO WELL

no, paimon. it’s not but we’re doing it anyway 🤡

NO ONE TOLD ME WE’RE GOING TO RUN. I WENT COMPLETELY OFF COURSE. first try tho 😏

HELLO THOMA. HELLO AYAKA.

HELLO SAYU. HOW DID IT GO? IM GUESSING IT WENT WELL BC YOU’RE STILL ALIVE?

oh no….. she’s worn herself out…. man,,, this is why you dont make convicts out of kids….

WE ASKED SAYU FOR AN INCH AND SHE GAVE AS TEN THOUSAND MILES. SAYU MY CHILD YOU EXCEED EXPECTATIONS

god, don’t remind me. as hot as the shogun trying to kill us w her blade was, i don’t appreciate almost getting murdered on screen (even if we most certainly have plot armor)

awwww is thoma worried about me uwu owo? dw i have like… a lumine w 6% crit rate by my side

sigh… i dont want to leave yet… cant i just stay by thoma’s side and not go to war for a change?

it was at this moment that tumblr user lei saw the wonders of being a housewife.

oh sara… my stars… i’m so sorry. i feel so bad for you but at the same time… this oddly makes me want to write a song for you ABJFJKABJABCABVABVKA I KNOW JACK SHIT ABT SONGWRITING WHY AM I THINKING LIKE THIS

well… there she goes…

oh…. oh….. yae is stealing my heart. WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO (i have an alt for a reason heehee)

DEAR LORD. PLEASE STEP ON MY NECK SARA.

these guys got guts to say ‘i’m sorry ma’am’ to THE kujou sara.

oh old man… you’re dead. you’re so dead.

man… this old man is a simp? sheesh.

YES. GO TELL EM PAIMON. PREACH THAT SHIT LOUD AND CLEAR.

oh my god… is that dude dead? i probably should’ve uh apologized b4 he flopped down to the ground ig…

MAN,, SARA’S DOWN FOR THE COUNT?? tbf i didnt expect much but…. also, AYE SIGNORA’S SO ICY.

she’s calling me out for being a simp ;-; heart been broke so many times or smth

OH SHIT LUMINE SPOKE. MAN,, WHY IS SHE SO COOL.

oh… i love this part of the vow… im suddenly inspired to write… how about a wedding au? an angsty wedding au?

goddamn… it’s been nice knowing you all…. i dont think i’ll come out of this alive if signora went out like that…

WHATS HAPPENING? ARE YOU SAYING KAZUHA WENT THROUGH THIS BS? IS LUMINE OKAY-

DID THEY REALLY JUST STORM THE ENTIRE FUCKING CAPITAL?? THEY HAVE SOME NERVE.

FUCK OMG KAZUHA AHHAHFHAFHAHGKJABKASBGA IM TEARING UP WTF WHY AM I GETTING EMOTIONAL- HONEY BUN THATS SO HOT OF YOU TO DO

oh… oh it’s time for round two? haha… time to… say my goodbyes….

yo… there are actual tears in my eyes… like… idk why… but that cutscene? shit man… that hit me…

hm… i feel bad for the shogun… ultimately, there is reason behind every act no matter how horrid. no matter how unreasonable, the reason one thinks of is always justified on their end. whatever everyone else thinks pay little effect on whether the act is fulfilled or not. also, her little laugh? i’m extra deceased.

the animation's fire as always wtf

oh but my kokoro... oof... my kokoro... ugh...

I’M SO FUCKING DONE AJKFHAKJBVAK- WE BEAT A HARBINGER AND FOR WHAT? she should’ve just tossed that gnosis into the ocean or smth...

HAH OMG SCARAMOUCHE. WHAT A MAN. I’M- I WAS RIGHT OMG. I HAD A LIL THEORY AND ITS JUST SMTH I HAD IN THE BACK OF MY MIND. I NEVER THOUGHT IT’LL ACTUALLY COME TRUE DEAR LORD. so now ig i have to admit i think abt him a lot and he has a soft spot in my heart 🥺 he’s evil you see and you know what my type is? evil men or at the very least, men with the potential to be evil. ugh so annoying.

scaramouche banner when

bc i sold everything worthy of money in me (read as my organs) for albedo, i'll sell my soul for him how about that?

EYE- makoto huh… well… fuck…

it’s day 400 of being ayato less even if he’s like… teased a million of times (jk it’s like… a grand total of seven but thats still p high)

im so… sigh…

i wonder if i’m still alive by the time sumeru releases… at the very least, i know my brain wouldn’t be.

....we were literally a captain for like... one second. that is so sad.

[inamatchamood]

Tharntype Season 2 Ep5 Reaction

Disclaimer: only chaotic thoughts follow

- Type really looks like a little kid walking into their parents room after they did something bad

- This man really just asked how did you know when he left evidence all over the goddamn shop

- WILL SOMEONE JUST TELL ME WHAT HE DID TO THE GIRL?!

- Type pulling off this sunglasses like that because he knows he’s that bitch

- Type has never been more smug in his life

- This girls heteronormativity is pissing me off

- You’re telling me he walked in like a whole ass gangsta to just be like “yo he gay he mine neck off” like go off sis but the level of extra

- Omg I’m living for how giggly Tharn is being about this so cute 🥺

- Tharn really knows his wife too well

- Why is Types default emotion just sassy? And how do I get that

- Is Type really not going to smile for this photo? We love a petty king

- Love how Thorns reaction is just “wtf” to Tharns text

- ALSO THIS DOG IS SO CUTE IMMA DIE

- Okay I don’t if my translations off or if Thorn actually just called this dude a s*ut but I am here for it

- The accuracy of friendship between Thorn and San tho

- Why do Type’s shirts always have some random ass words on them? Why does this man dress himself like this?

- TYPE REALLY HAS SOME AUDACITY COMMENTING ON THIS WOMANS POST IM DECEASED

- Like No I can also be convinced to do anything with a single meal

- Also this all being Tharns plan is more believable than every person in this show FORGETTING THE MAN IS GAY

- I’m really glad they created a multidimensional character out of Fiat and didn’t simply make him into a flat villain - know I feel so conflicted seeing him be all cute and wholesome

- Why are bosses 9/10 pieces of shit?

- The other two players are sitting there being like “get a load of these two”

- Damn Fiat and Leo are actually so cute goddamit - but I also feel for Leo watching the person you like like someone else burns from the inside

- YAAAAS TYPES MUM!!! WHAT A QUEEN LOVE HERRRR 👑👑

- This kid is so sweet 🥲 - we all need someone to make us hot cocoa

- Awww Type just wants his dad and Tharn to get along and he’s just being so mature and understanding and it’s so nice to see Types growth from the first time we saw him on screen it makes me emo 😭

- I’m glad Phu and Type are friends - this is super cute WHY ARE PEOPLE CUTTING ONIONS STAHP

- I’m glad Cir is mostly respecting Phu’s boundaries

- We’re here for all this domesticity

- Still can’t believe No has a government job - this man writing papers and shit with coffee and cake

- Aaaaand he’s snooping lmao

- Doctor is the king of talking himself into situations that he wasn’t in to begin with

- No is such a sneaky bitch I love him! Also calling type immediately with the goss like I can’t with these two

- Type is so nosy OMG

- IM DEAD Type going you’re doing your best to the Doc and then following it up with sorry my friends are fucking idiots - same

- What shit is the Doc causing now omg

- Ugh this boss is so annoying, YOU’RE THE ONE THAT GAVE HIM TASKS THAT WERENT HIS RESPONSIBILITY BRO he has every right to complain but he didn’t

- They really put a banner with “this is in appropriate behaviour” I CANT!!

- Type is actually a soft baby confirmed

[softguks]

author + fic recs

below are a list of writers and my my fav fics of theirs, pls give them some love!! don’t forget to REBLOG, SEND A MESSAGE, OR LEAVE FEEDBACK. sometimes leaving a like isn’t quite enough, so leave a small comment telling them how much you loved it! it really makes their day.

@sketchguk TERESA, uGH my lovie, my world, my moon, my stars, the cause of my euphoria, my queen, the angel from the heavens. she is an incredible writer, and i’ve read all of her works probably thirty million times. they’re sweet, amazing, and definite must-reads! READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST, it’s worth it i promise 🥺

-> kiss the girl; worth the wait; lover to lean on; 10 muses

@sleepyjhs​ violet??? omg, her reactions, drabbles, and writings are so soft and lovely!! pls give her a read, send her some love, reblog her amazing works, and leave come comments! she’s such a sweet angel, and her blog is beautiful (so aesthetically pleasing)

@gukyi GUYI!! guys, this is a no-brainer. i’m sure you’ve read her fics, if not, go give her a read. her fics are absolutely amazing, incredible, and every positive word in the world. the amount of talent she pours into each piece of writing is incredible and phenomenal, she is literally one of the most talented writers on here. go send her some love if you haven’t already!

-> the millionaire & his lover; raspberry truffles; the courtship chronicles; if i told you; the underwear thief; the coffee shop contract

@jamaisjoons hi i love solaris, she owns my heart. anyways, she is a pretty-well known blog in my opinion, and totally deserves it! her writings are amazing, incredible, and i love them so much. her banners are super cute like her too 🥺 she’s the sweetest person, her fics are some of my go-to rereads and my all-time favorites. pls go flood her inbox with love, she’s an incredible angel.

-> faded love; the sea & the storm; love alive

@honeymoonjin​ guys sora is the most beautiful soul on here 🥺 i love her fics so much, they bring out the ugly tears, the soft feelings, the uwu hours, and emotions i didn’t know i had. i’ve read her entire masterlist probably a billion times because of how talented she is, like skskksksksk?? i don’t understand. go bombard her with love, adoration, and feedback for her lovely fics. she writes them so well, and they’re also hilarious to read!!

-> florezco; anpanman

@jungshookz​ CEE!! omg i love all of her fics. each and every single one of them is absolutely incredible. i love the style of her writing, i love the hilarious interactions, the tropes, and everything about her fics. she is one of my all-time favorite blogs that i’ve come across, please send her lots of love if you haven’t already!! she is so so talented and incredible, make sure to check out her drabbles and tags!! it’s always hilarious and so much fun to read her fics -- i cackle like a witCH--

-> cowabunga baby; caramel macchiato; gymrat jungkook; beneath the water; suit & tie; soccer coach jungkook; yoga instructor jungkook; ta! jimin; ballet teacher jimin (OMG MY FAV)

@junqkook hi yara is bomb guys. yara’s fics are oh-so-incredible and she’s one of the first blogs i came across in this fandom!! there’s something about the way she writes, the way her words seem to flow together so perfectly that’s incredible. really and truly, she is one of the sweetest people on here and is very very very talented. go give her some love. btw her banners for her fics and her navigation is super cute uwu.

-> rottenfolk; the young wolf; into the woods (series); la douleur exquise

@httpjeon DAISYYY, she’s amazing and i love her. anyways, daisy is the QUEEN of cute banners and headers. she’s so talented and everything on her masterlist is a masterpiece. the way she writes is so beautiful and her stories are amazing!! the detail, the *cough* smut *cough*, the descriptive scenes, and the characters are incredible! gold! amazing! wonderful! i’ve run out of words to describe how lovely they are, but please give her some (re)reads and reblogs!

-> bunny blues (series); lovebug; sehebon; club ardor (series)

@kinktae rosyyyyy is one of the sweetest people on here and im totally here for her friendship with daisy + nora + yara uw. they’re best friend goals. anyways, her fics are like watching movies. they are so detailed and well-written that it plays in your head. you can imagine each scene playing out as you read and they’re really amazing. pls go check them out and give them some love!

-> soliloquy; camellia (two-shot); bitchin’ (series); flesh & blood (series)

@taesthetes uwu, cat’s works are some of the most amazing ones i’ve ever read. they never fail to amaze me and are always guaranteed to bring out emotions. thy’re truly beautiful works of art, and are some definite must-reads! her blog is so lovely and pretty too!

-> let’s unfall in love; amour; hiraeth; her masterlist (just read everything guys it’s incredible)

@ughkive mo! mO! MO! mo is my lovie and an angel. she’s such a beautiful soul and has the heart of an angel. her writings are amazing and some you should definitely check out! the way she writes is beautiful and i love her style of writing, please go flood her mailbox with love and support! much love to you, bb!

-> broken cathedrals; heart strings; bucket list; habits

@gukgalore hi rayan is my intelligent, gorgeous, radiant, and stunning queen. she is the absolute sweetest and must be flooded with love and hugs. go check out the queen, i love her, the aesthetic & layout of her blog, and her writings very very much!! they are very amazing and worth the read! many of them make me emotional and i dont know how she’s so taleneted. pls give her love.

-> young; jungkook breaks your trust (drabble); jungkook lies (drabble); something new

@guksheart she is one of my fav blogs everrr. i truly adore all of her fics and have reread them millions of times. they’re absolutely incredible, and always leave me in awe or speechless because of the talent that’s poured into each writing. each fic is a work of art, a masterpiece, and a treasure. pls go check her out, give her some compliments on her pretty blog, her cute banners, and her amazing self! lots of must-reads all waiting on her masterlist. also,,, on a side note lol her titles are so cute and i love them with all of my heart!! uwu

->  close the distance; in twenty years time; cover me in blue; plans for wedding bands; sugar coated; victor’s game (series m.list)

@gukills POPPY! or tati, i love her so very much with all of my heart and my entire being. she’s gorgeous, radiant, bright, and an angel blessed to us from the heavens!! not only is she the sweetest, she’s so talented in both writing and art! her writings are amazing and something you should definitely check out! uwu her navigation is so cute as well, go give her some love.

-> every moment is valuable; broken glass; just out the window (two-shot)

@cupofteaguk​ omg omg hiiiii. LOL im sorry but traci’s blog is one of my favs!! she’s one of the first blogs i came across when first joining this fandom and is so incredibly talented. i’ve reread all of her fics millions of times and i love them so so much. they’re so cute, sweet, and hilarious. the way she writes is incredible and i love the tropes and cliche plots that she twists or tweaks to turn into masterpieces. each fic she’s written is gold and i’m always excited to see her pop up on my dash. her banners are all so adorable just like her blog. go give her some love!!

-> like flowers we bloom; the endless winter; breath of spring; hopeless hearts; take my hand (i love this one v much!)

@onherwings​​ hi jo, i adore you with all of my heart and being. jo is such a sweet and talented soul that i’m incredibly lucky and forever grateful to be friends with!! all of her fics are amazing and totally worth the read. her writing style, the descriptive scenes, the plots, the cute banners, the funny interactions, and the way she constructs the relationships as they blossom is beautiful. it feels like a breath of fresh air, walking through a meadow of clouds and stars, and the fuzzy, warm feeling you get from being with people you love. her fics are beautiful and so fun to read. flood her mailbox with love, asks, and support!!

-> mask; the better one; reasons to say i love you

@angelguk​​  she’s one of my favorite blogs ever (mwah!) her writings, her blog, her aesthetic, and her layout are absolutely gorgeous!! uwu they make me soft just looking at the pretty colors, matching themes, and accents. her writings are from another planet, omg, there aren’t enough words and emotions in the world to describe how utterly incredible they are. her writing style is just phenomenal and i love the way her words weave together like strands of silk into works of art. literally, hands down, one of the best writers i’ve come across on this site. i love everything about her blog and i’m sure she’s an even more amazing and beautiful person.

-> breakfast in bed; heartfelt; i wish i missed my ex; amour; phases

@cutaepatootie​​​ hi sara seems like such a lovely and sweet person so pls give her some love. ask about her day, tell her a joke, make her laugh, make her smile today. :D her writings are incredible. “A Fallen Bookmark on a Thursday Afternoon” hit so hard. i was tearing up, nearly balling my eyes out because of how realistic and genuine her fics feel. it sounds silly, but they feel like their own little worlds, waiting for you to get lost in. they bring out so many feelings and thoughts that i didn’t know i had, or haven’t really thought about. i think about it so often, and she’s one of the first blogs i came across. pls check out her fics and give her some reblogs!

a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon; the blue princess and her red rose; animal (series); a brief story of time; touched by a fallen star

@minflix​​​ elle is so very lovely and sweet. she reminds me of flowers because of how sweet and beautiful she is, i hope she continues to blossom. she reminds me of the ocean because of how strong, majestic, and powerful her energy and soul are. her url is so clever, we stan an intellectual in this household!! her banners are amazing??? like??? what??? when i saw them i gasped and proceeded to stare at them in wonder. her fics are even better guys!! what a surprise, pls go read them. they’re masterpieces and i’ve reread them too many times to admit. but in all seriousness, she’s absolutely wonderful and i’m super lucky to know her. go give her some love, lots of love to the sweetest bean!!

break the ice; much better; spellbound; a lack of color; the city comes alive

@yourdelights​​ dee! deE! dEE! DEE! dee is such a talented and sweet soul. like??? she’s so sweet? you could get diabetes just from talking to her. nO seriously, she’s one of the friendliest, kindest, and nicest people on here. her fics are adorable and very funny as well as entertaining. her banners, her theme, and her navigation are so cute and stunning just like she is. go give her some love, send her some asks, start a conversation, make her smile, and be her friend!!

-> the best part of me is you; i’m sorry (drabble)

@diortae​​ hi guys, isabel is amazing, stunning, radiant, and a literal ball of sunshine. go send her some love, reblog her fics, and make her smile!! uwu she’s such a sweet person with an even sweeter personality. her fics are so cute, funny, and fascinating. pls pls pls, check out her most recent fic if you haven’t already “An Abundance of Mondays”. each fic is its own world and tale, with its own special traits and unique twists. i love her banners and her writing style very very much. i would give her flowers if i could.

-> an abundance of mondays; the spaces between; until the spring comes again

[writingithink]

All The Skies Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 6,740 Summary: After accidentally bonding, the Doctor and Rose start their honeymoon.

Notes: This is for Day 1 of @timepetalsweek !!  I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'dancing'. It is a follow up to my fic, In Case You Don't Stay Forever. There's not really a 'plot' for you to feel lost in if you don't feel like reading that as well. Thank you so much @hey-there-juliet for betaing!! (& honestly, convincing me that I could totally make up this planet). I own nothing (aside from mistakes).

READ IT ON AO3!! --> a copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379095

“Here we are! Neghlyvryn!” the Doctor announced, opening the TARDIS doors with a flourish as he stepped outside and into a city square. Banners and streamers were everywhere. Crowds of people (well, aliens) were just starting to form. He couldn’t help a smug smirk - he’d gotten it right. Good.

“Blimey, it’s hot!” Rose exclaimed, having just stepped out behind him.

He turned to watch as she fanned herself, barely taking in the festive atmosphere.

“I told you it would be.”

“Yeah, and I dressed for summer, too, but here we are! How are you wearing your suit right now?!”

“Superior temperature regulation,” he explained as he gave her outfit a once over (and then a twice over). She looked great in anything, that was a given, but the pink tank top and tiny denim shorts she currently had on were particularly flattering (even if the amount of skin they revealed would likely distract him all day).

Rose’s discomfort and irritation were still the most prevalent emotions he could feel across their bond, but a bit of pleasure and happiness shot through. Still, she wasn’t smiling.

“Well lucky you. What’s the temperature right now, anyway?” she asked.

He squinted up at the sky and did a slow spin.

“About 27 degrees.”

“I’ve gotta change. Maybe see if the TARDIS has some sort of fancy clothes to keep me cool,” Rose decided, turning around.

“Roooose,” he whined, “it’s the morning! And it’s only going to get hotter. If we wait too long, it won’t be safe for you to play Jikltaii unless you decide to wear an enviro-suit!”

She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back around and crossing her arms. “And just how much hotter is it gonna get?”

“Errr, somewhere around 34 degrees, give or take. This is the Rhibelini Festival! It’s like their summer solstice, except it only happens once every fifteen years when their three suns align.”

Shoulda mentioned three suns when I was gettin’ ready, Rose grumbled over the bond as she finally walked up to him and took his hand. “Alright then, let’s get goin’. But we better get somethin’ to drink before we play this game of yours.”

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically, almost skipping as he led them away from the TARDIS. 

This would be their second full day as a bonded pair, and while he still hadn’t had time to properly research it, he had been able to meditate and construct some barriers that would actually be effective … on his end, at least. Since Rose had been asleep during his meditation, they hadn’t been able to work on hers (however her telepathy even worked to begin with). So while he still got plenty from her end, he was able to keep a majority of his less relevant trains of thought from bothering her (and while he could have tried to keep things more private, it didn’t exactly seem fair). Plus, he loved being bonded to Rose Tyler, accident or not.

“So, tell me about this Jiggle-Tie thing we’re gonna do,” Rose prompted as they entered the queue for a street cart, fanning herself with the bottom of her top.

For a moment his eyes zeroed in on her belly button before he made himself look away, focusing instead on the line of people - which was already long now, so he could hardly imagine what it would look like later in the day.

“Jikltaii,” the Doctor repeated, “with a ‘K’. It’s kind of like paintball, but with sling shots. And it’s kind of like capture the flag, but there’s three teams. You see, the Neghlyvits believe that their planet was created when the three sun goddesses reached a truce after fighting amongst each other for billions of years. Each sun’s name corresponds to a goddess; Rhiza, Beltof, and Iniya. Each goddess has a color. Red, or rhiz, for Rhiza. Then there’s orange, or belti, for Beltof and yellow, or iniv, for Iniya. Three teams, three colors of paint.”

“Sounds fun.”

The line was moving slowly, and Rose finally began to take in the surroundings with a hand over her eyes to keep the suns out. He dug through his pockets until he found a pair of her sunglasses, handing them to her and feeling a wave of gratitude across their connection.

I love you, he couldn’t help thinking.

It was getting a little embarrassing. By his count, he’d now told her this 26 times telepathically since she woke up (verbally only twice, so that would make it 28 times total).

I love you too.

At least she always said it back, projecting enough affection to dispel his embarrassment.

“So, what happens when you win at Jikkle-Tie?” she asked.

“Mmm, well, Neghlyvryn is an incredibly peaceful planet, and their culture obviously emphasizes compromise. This festival is called Rhibelini - an amalgamation of all three goddesses names - because this is the time when the goddesses renew their truce. So the team that wins a game of Jikltaii’s corresponding color determines what flavor of frip everyone eats at the end.”

“Frip?”

“It’s an ice cream-type treat,” he explained, swinging their hands together as the queue moved forward.

“That’s good. I’m definitely gonna need some, runnin’ around with a slingshot in this heat.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the general consensus.”

Eventually they reached the front and the Doctor ordered four waters, two kivries, and a couple poofs (each cut in half). He also got directions for the closest Jikltaii field.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Rose informed him as he handed her a kivy and a water before putting everything besides his own kivy into his trouser pocket.

“I just didn’t want to wait in line again. Imagine what it will be like once midday comes around?”

Ugh, fair.

“So this is like a soda, yeah?” she asked, after guzzling half the water bottle and then dumping the rest over her head. The Doctor couldn’t help but follow a few droplets as they trailed down her neck. Temperature was now not the only thing he needed to regulate.

“Yup. Very fizzy. Hey! Fizzy Kivy! It rhymes! Look at that!”

She laughed, her entire mental presence much brighter now that she’d cooled down a bit. They both opened their bottles before beginning to walk towards the field.

“Oh! ’S like- like lemon and somethin’ else …”

“Like lemon and cucumber,” he scowled, eying the bottle with disdain.

Rose took another sip. “Not so bad.”

“Blegh. Do you want mine, then?”

“Not right now,” she giggled before coughing and then sneezing after getting fizz up her nose.

And he knew she was fine, but the Doctor couldn’t keep himself from stopping and rubbing her back … just to make sure.

You’re sweet. 

See, it’s rumors like that that make Absorbaloffs from Clom think that they can do whatever they’d like, he couldn’t help but think. He immediately regretted it, as Rose began brooding about everything her mum had been through. Tea yesterday had gone quite poorly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand again and quickly getting them to the Jikltaii field.

Once they’d paid - credits! He loved credits. So much easier than keeping track of specific currencies, even if he still didn’t quite understand the ins and outs of money - the attendant, a native male with fiery orange hair and the pale blue and brown speckled skin typical of most Neghlyvits, immediately began to divide everyone into teams.

“Iniv team,” he told Rose before turning to the Doctor. “Belti team.”

“B-but I want to be on Rose’s team!” he complained.

“Nope. Everyone’s divided by colors. Your hair is kind of orange.”

“But we’re on our honeymoon!”

A burst of affection came through the bond, though it was hardly noticeable over how hilarious his bondmate thought he was being. She could really do with being a bit more interested in their romantic endeavors.

Sorry .

I forgive you, the Doctor projected.

“May you lovingly cover each other with paint,” the attendant drawled before handing them each their appropriately colored paint balls and sling shots.

“And I suppose they’re on Iniv team, then?” the Doctor queried, pointing at the two aliens next to them - both green, covered in scales, and having no hair to speak of.

“Yes.”

Figured. Maybe he should have dyed his hair before this. Or worn a wig. How was he supposed to know that teams were chosen this way?

Rose sent a mental image of how he would look as a blonde. Ew. Nope. Not even a wig. Next time Rose would have to dye her hair. He already knew she looked fantastic as a brunette, he’d seen pictures.

“It’ll be fine,” she consoled him as the attendant began a speech about the rules.

Apparently you weren’t out as soon as you were hit - you just took a two minute time out and at the end of the game they would figure out which team had the most paint on them if no one captured any flags.

“I want to be on your team,” the Doctor pouted.

“I think it’ll be more fun this way. Winner owes the other one a favor,” Rose smirked. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once, and he caught images of him painting her toenails, folding her laundry, cooking her dinner and a few that were decidedly X rated that she probably wouldn’t need to use a favor to cash in.

Good to know.

Still, he didn’t fancy folding her laundry.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he decided. They shook on it. “What happens if Rhiz team wins?”

“We’ll call that a tie. Each owe the other a favor.”

Before he could argue that, it was time for the teams to move out to their respective starting points. He could have continued over the bond, but his team mates were vying for his attention as they talked strategy. 

It was just as fun as he thought it would be (though being on Rose’s team would have made it more fun). In the first fifteen minutes of the game, he didn’t see his wife anywhere. For a moment the Doctor worried that she had been assigned to guard their flag - how boring - but she was broadcasting much too much enjoyment and general competitiveness for that to be the case. Then he saw her head peeking out from behind a paint-caked wooden partition.

He ducked down, carefully keeping cover until he was right next to the barrier before he quickly jumped over it, shooting her twice before he landed clumsily on the other side.

“Ooof!” She may have said it aloud, but he was the one who had just landed hard on his bum. Really need to figure out how to turn off that part of the bond. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Not as fragile as you lot. No bruised tailbone.”

“Good,” Rose said, crawling over to him and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Still, I’ll probably need to check it later.” 

If they weren’t telepathically connected, her meaning would have been made quite clear by the way she nipped his ear. 

“Oh,” he squeaked, looking around to see if anyone was watching them as she climbed onto his lap. Then she was snogging him, and the Doctor really didn’t care if they were spotted. She was so warm and soft and the way her mind was caressing his was one of the best things in the Universe, he was sure of it. He groaned, pulling her closer, wanting more of something, though he wasn’t sure what and-

Loads of something wet and sticky ran down his head.

“Gotcha,” Rose whispered before she sprang to her feet and ran off.

The Doctor sat there for a moment, slightly dazed, trying to manually redirect his blood flow. Honestly, what kind of tactician was he to have overlooked the fact that Rose Tyler plays dirty? Apparently the answer to that question was: the kind of tactician who really wants to snog Rose Tyler. He shook his head, got up and regained his bearings.

It’s on, now, you minx, he sent across their bond.

All he got for his trouble was the telepathic equivalent of laughter.

“Friendly fire?” Uriit, one of the women on his team, asked when they ran into each other near a ropes section of the field.

He looked down at his shirt to find it smeared with orange paint. 

“Something like that,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck and giving his ear a tug.

Throughout the rest of the game, the Doctor purposefully projected the most random things he could think of to Rose over the bond, hoping to distract her. Rambling lessons about tea cultivation, pocket dimensions, the War of the Eternals, different library cataloguing methods throughout time and space. Anything. The problem was, she wasn’t getting nearly as distracted by his thoughts as he seemed to always be by hers.

So he gave up that plan and set his sights on capturing the Iniv team flag as if the planet were at stake. This got him a five minute time out for attempting to mess with the sprinkler system.

In the end, team Rhiz did end up winning but no one caught any flags.

“Did you have fun?” Rose asked him as they sat at a picnic table eating their rhizit frip (berry-ish and minty, possibly the best frip flavor anyway, though they all sounded good to him).

“I would have had more fun if we were on the same team,” he sulked.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll wear a wig, yeah?”

He shrugged. While the thought of her in a wig intrigued him, it didn’t fix today’s Jikltaii mishap. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. You can only play Jikltaii on your honeymoon once, after all.

“Rubbish,” Rose told him, “and you know it. Mum’s busy plannin’ a wedding as we speak. We’ll have another honeymoon before ya know it.”

“Oh.” The Doctor sat up straighter, suddenly much more interested in his frip and the topic of wigs. “I didn’t think of that. How many honeymoons do you think we could have?”

“Depends how many times you wanna get married,” she smiled, tongue between her teeth. He was certain that if he snogged her he’d be able to taste her rhizit frip. It probably tasted much better that way.

Later.

“But we don’t have any frip on the TARDIS,” he informed her, moving to sit on her side of the bench.

“Could get some.”

He blinked.

“Didn’t you just tell me the other day about how time doesn’t pass in your pockets?”

She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his kivry from earlier, still cold and fizzy.

“I hadn’t thought you were paying attention,” he admitted.

“I just tune out the technical parts.”

Rose finished up her dessert as if this wasn’t important information. Maybe for her it wasn’t. She was Rose Tyler so of course she wouldn’t have to learn new things about herself.

“Sooo,” the Doctor began, leaning his back against the table and stretching his legs in front of him, “earlier, when I was telling you all of that stuff and you didn’t get distracted …?”

“Kinda like havin’ the telly on in the background.”

Well that wasn’t very flattering.

She rolled her eyes. “I pay attention to the important stuff. And the interestin’ bits. But you’ve gotta admit, it’s kinda like you were playin’ the history channel.”

Fair enough.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked, hopping up off the table and grabbing their frip containers to take to the rubbish bin.

“Well, first things first, we definitely need to change.”

“Both of us?” He frowned, furrowing his brow. What was wrong with his suit?

“Doctor, we’re covered in paint.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, taking her hand and leading them toward the exit. “That’ll be dealt with in a mo’.”

To leave the area, everyone had to go through a small blue outbuilding. The Doctor watched Rose look around and saw the moment she noticed all of the drains in the floor.

“Wait-”

Water sprayed down on them. It lasted only a minute, and then the doors on the other side slid open.

“Better?” he asked as they stepped outside.

“Well, ’s better than disinfectant. And so refreshing right now.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the suns. Yup, about 31 degrees. He looked down at his suit - paint free (and drying very quickly).

“I still wanna change,” Rose said. They were walking hand in hand back toward the main city square. The crowds were dense around them, full of locals and tourists alike. The Rhibelini Festival was an intergalactic traveler’s must see. At least, that’s how the magazine had described it.

“You read about this in a magazine? What happened to them being dull?”

The Doctor huffed. “There wasn’t anything else to read or do at the time. We were trying to infiltrate that shady corporation on Arelenia II and I was sat in their waiting room. Had to blend in. Everyone else was reading those magazines they leave all over the place. In fact-” He dug into his jacket pocket “- here it is!”

“Why’d you take it?” she asked, grabbing it before attempting to read the cover page and walk at the same time.

“Well, it boasted the 250 must-see places for the experienced intergalactic traveler - that’s me. And I hadn’t been to some of them. I wanted the list. Also, the Geri Corporation committed many major human rights violations, and made me wait for almost an hour, so … they owed me.” He put his arm around Rose and led her to the side of the street before stopping and taking back the magazine. Should have known better, really. Rose Tyler and her magazines.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re not dull. They’re full of interesting stuff, and short for when you don’t feel like readin’ a whole novel.”

“The ones you read are always about clothes and makeup and gossip.”

“Useful, useful, funny.”

She may have him there - but he wasn’t going to admit it verbally. Her smug telepathic presence was enough, ta. They started walking again, Rose finally taking the time to people-watch.

“Those outfits, are they for somethin’ specific?” she asked, nodding toward a group of native girls wearing the traditional festival clothes - bralettes and asymmetrical skirts in yellow, orange, or red.

“Nope,” he replied, turning her attention to another crowd that had a mix of natives and tourists, most of whom were wearing the same basic outfit. Even a few men wearing the traditional skirt (though cut differently).

“It’s called a high-low.”

“What?”

“The skirts the girls got on. High-low.” Rose let go of his hand and placed hers at her mid-thigh. “High,” and then dropped it past her knees, “low.”

“Why would I ever need to know that?” the Doctor asked, puzzled.

She simply rolled her eyes, took his hand, and dragged him towards a row of shops. He tried to ignore her unflattering thoughts about men and shopping and blokes in general, figuring that he really wasn’t a man or a bloke so she couldn’t be referring to him. He hoped so, at least.

“I like their outfits, think I’d like to get one,” Rose told him as she began peeking into the shop windows.

“Okay.” Much better than going back to the TARDIS. More … festival-y.

So he tagged along behind her as she entered a boutique, hanging back when she went up to the counter and examining a display of hair accessories.

“Hello, I was wonderin’ if you could help me find a, uhm, traditional festival outfit,” Rose asked the clerk. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at the racks of said apparel that were plainly visible.

Yeah and are YOU an expert at the sizing here?

Deciding that she really must know best, the Doctor quietly left her to it, exiting the shop and letting her know telepathically that he’d be just outside. Outside was much more entertaining anyway. Buskers had begun playing, and there were pop up stalls, and all sorts of things to look at and do.

Would be better once Rose came back, though.

Still, couldn’t hurt to get the lay of the land. Have something planned for once she finished. It ended up being over forty-five minutes before Rose told him she was leaving the boutique, and he was down the other end of the block! That right there was some decent range. Eventually they were going to have to properly test how far apart they could telepathically communicate, but that could wait. The Doctor ran down the street, weaving between groups of tourists, before skidding to a standstill.

She was absolutely stunning.

The festival set she’d chosen was yellow - of course, really - with a gold (or iniyama) sun clasp at the centre of her bralette, and two tiny red and orange suns on each side near her arms. The skirt had a whispy white under-layer visible in the low part with little gold starbursts dotted around it.

If the goddess Iniya was real, he was certain that she would look just like Rose at this moment.

“Oh, Doctor,” she flushed before placing a hand on his cheek, pulling him down and kissing him. Unfortunately, as soon as he tried to deepen the kiss she pulled back.

Later.

He was getting tired of that word.

“C’mon, there’s activities this way,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her up the street.

“Hold your horses,” she laughed. “I’m gettin’ kinda hungry. We should eat those sandwiches you got.”

“Oh! Right! The poofs!”

“Poofs? Really?”

“Yup!” he told her, popping the ‘P’. 

It didn’t take long to find a picnic table - they seemed to be everywhere - and settle in with their food and another bottle of water. He wondered if he’d gotten enough.

“Huh. ’S like a fruity cold cut,” Rose commented after swallowing her first bite.

“Reminds me of blackberries,” he agreed. Definitely a better flavor combination than the kivry. He shuddered at the memory. Could still kind of taste it, even after the frip.

They were quiet, quickly eating the poofs, and then off back toward the fun. The Doctor glanced behind him as he led her through the crowd and was thrilled to see her smiling. Her mental presence was bright and happy and really, this was so amazing and such a great day. He should probably marry Rose Tyler as often as possible, so that they could keep going on honeymoons.

She laughed. “Y’know our life is travelin’ around, right?”

“Oh, but this is different! This is romantic traveling. Newlywed traveling.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Don’t you want to keep marrying me?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the street and pulling her closer.

“Mmm might do. Still, honeymoons generally last ‘bout a week. And we’ve got another wedding comin’ up. So how ‘bout we see how it goes.”

He kissed her, and once again she didn’t allow their tongues to even get a tiny bit involved.

Later.

Worst. Word. Ever.

He tilted his head back and let out a groan before continuing on until they reached the games area.

“It’s almost like a carnival!” Rose exclaimed, wandering over toward a water shooting game where winners could potentially get some chintzy star jewelry. “Gonna win me a bracelet?” she asked with a cheeky smirk, cocking her hips to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“As you wish,” the Doctor said with a mock-bow, walking up to the booth and picking up a water gun.

The game was rigged. Should be illegal, that. Ended up having to play six times just to get one dinky plastic bracelet, and the rhizala (metallic red) paint was noticeably chipping. He handed it to Rose with a frown.

“I love it,” she told him, immediately putting it on.

And the strange thing was that he could tell that she meant it.

“But- but it’s so cheap and they wouldn’t let me pick it out myself, so I couldn’t get the gold one, and-”

“I love it ‘cause you got it for me. And I’m keepin’ it forever,” she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek.

Well. That was okay, then.

The next games stand they walked up to had a big banner atop it that said ‘Grizchootinki’ and appeared to be bobbing for apples, except the fruits were definitely not apples.

“How ‘bout I win you something?” Rose suggested, pointing at the stuffed toys hanging above the water barrel. She attempted to pull him toward the stand, but the Doctor would not budge.

“Why play that game when we could do this?” he blindly pointed to the stand across from it, then looked to see what it was.

Face painting.

Ehh …

She raised an eyebrow but still allowed him to take them over there, all the while not saying a word about how closed off he’d made their bond. Honestly, Rose had much more restraint than he did and he wasn’t sure how she did it. Still, he was grateful.

Or not. Once they got to the booth he noticed that his wife had a rather wicked gleam in her eye.

“Oh, you look wonderful!” the artist told Rose. “I have the perfect iniyama pattern for you. It will match your outfit so well!”

“Thanks,” she smiled, ���but if you could do him first? He was super excited to come get his face done up.”

How had he gone so long without realizing that she was evil?

“Of course! Have a seat! We’ll have you looking more festive in no time. Definitely beltofana paint for you,” the artist said. Before he knew it the Doctor found himself seated, getting his face painted.

And it took ages.

“Alright, let’s see it,” he announced as soon as it was finished, pasting on a smile he really wasn’t feeling.

Oh, don’t be a baby.

Must have let the barriers slip while being tortured. Not surprising. (Also, it was incredibly hard to block the bond - it definitely did not want to be closed. Really had to get to that research).

You’re how old, now? Rose’s smile, at least, was genuine. And she wasn’t laughing (except in his head) so he must not look too ridiculous.

“No, wait until you’re both finished. It will be better if you see together.”

During his face painting, Rose and the artist had chatted. Once they found out that he and Rose were on their honeymoon, they got ideas. So he leaned against the booth and watched as she got her face painted. And it really did look lovely on her. But of course it did. Everything did. Weeeell, most things. To be fair, some things were designed to not look good on anybody - dinner lady uniforms came to mind. Even then, she was the best looking dinner lady of all of them. Though the rest were Krillitanes. Eh, still.

I love you, Rose’s telepathic voice rang in his head. 

And he’d been trying so hard all day to not keep saying it after this morning’s slightly insane overuse of the phrase, but now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever stopped saying it.

(Multiple marriage proposals may have had something to do with it).

I love you, too. So, so much.

Waiting to be able to touch her until her face was finished became incredibly difficult. But he managed. Barely.

(There was a brief moment where he sat on the ground next to her and rested his head against her hip, but he didn’t like the knowing look the artist gave him and decided to go back to leaning against the booth).

Then finally, finally she was done. 

The artist brought out a mirror from behind her booth and set it up for them to look. And as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, they had done a spectacular job. Both of their faces were decorated with intricate swirls and stars, the patterns somehow mirroring each other. The Doctor had a feeling that if he were to somehow overlay just the artwork, it would become one piece.

“This is so great!” Rose exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Now, the face paint is waterproof. It will fade naturally within the next week. If you need it removed before then, there is an alcohol solution that will speed up the process. I do sell it, if you need it.”

He was positive that he could easily make the solution himself on the TARDIS, but with Rose’s mental nudging he ended up buying some from the artist when he paid for the painting. He also left a very generous tip.

“Alright, so tell me,” she said out of seemingly nowhere as they walked away from the booth.

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want me to win you a stuffed, er, whale thingy.”

“It’s a star whale. They’re actually extinct. Funny thing about star whales-”

“Doctor.”

With a sigh he turned toward her, dropping her hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d be bobbing for choots.”

“And?”

“They taste like pears,” he informed her.

“So? I’d be the one bobbin’ for ‘em.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But?”

“Then you’d taste like choots.”

Rose burst out laughing, her amusement apparently so great that she could hardly remain upright. It really wasn’t that funny. She just laughed harder.

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself. Really, this is completely unnecessary. It’s almost suns-set! Ever watched three suns set at once? Rose! Stop laughing!”

She pulled herself together slowly, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I’m gonna bob for choots.” 

This obviously wasn’t up for debate, so bob for choots she did. And her game obviously wasn’t rigged like his had been. That or the game attendant with the wandering eyes was giving his wife preferential treatment. The Doctor glared at the adolescent until the boy looked properly terrified. And Rose had really only gotten enough choots to win a medium sized star whale, but the kid handed her the big one before sending them on their way.

“Ya didn’t have to go all ‘Oncoming Storm’ on ‘em,” she informed him while handing over the giant toy. Honestly, what was he supposed to do with this right now? He may have bigger-on-the-inside pockets, but they required the object to at least be pocket sized before going in.

“He was leering at my wife,” the Doctor muttered, trying to see if he could slowly squish the star whale into his jacket pocket, and failing.

Rose shook her head before swatting his hand away from his pocket. “Let’s just go back to the TARDIS and drop him off.”

“Him?”

“Don’t you think he looks like a boy?”

“I’m not sure star whales have genders.”

“Well, it’s your star whale, so whatever you want. Whatcha gonna name ‘em?”

“I … haven’t given it any thought. I’ll get back to you on it. We’ll have to be quick if we want to stop back at the TARDIS and catch the suns-set. Which I do. You’re going to want some sort of jumper or something anyway. It gets chilly once the suns go down,” he told her, finally managing to hold her hand and the stuffed animal at the same time.

It ended up being slow going. He could hardly see past the star whale, so Rose had to lead them and she was much more polite while walking in a crowd than he was. Also they had to walk. Couldn’t run with the star whale. Once they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor opened the door and chucked the stuffed animal into the console room.

“Aww poor star whale,” Rose pouted, as if the stuffed animal had feelings.

“Sammy is fine,” he assured her. “Now go fetch a coat, quick, or we’ll miss it.”

“Sammy the Star Whale?”

“Yes. Love me some alliteration. Now off you pop!”

Rose bit her lip, glanced in the TARDIS and then back to him. “It’d take ages for me to find something that looks good with this outfit. I don’t think we’ve got time.”

He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that she’d look good in anything. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference. She already knew he thought that, after all (not to mention it was now likely being repeated). It mattered to her, though, and she was right - the way she could dither around the wardrobe room, it would take ages.

“Alright, c’mon then,” he said, quickly grabbing his coat off a nearby strut and then her hand after locking the TARDIS. “I’ll keep you warm. Run!”

They sprinted through a few back alleys before he found a fire escape that didn’t look to be on the verge of collapse, and they ended up atop a grocers. The sky was already turning a deep orange as he fanned out his coat on the roof for them to sit on.

Rose cuddled into his side, lying her head on his shoulder as they settled in to watch the three suns set on Neghlyvryn. Orange slowly faded into pink and then purple, and six of the eight moons became visible.

“Can we hold hands and watch the sky together, forever?” he asked her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head,

“Forever is a long time to watch the sky, dontcha think?”

“Oh, but not just this sky. All of the skies.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Yeah,” he breathed into her hair.

“Well, that’s alright then,” Rose decided.

“Good.”

Then he realized that they were finally alone, that later had finally arrived. So he kissed her. And she tasted like choots, but it was okay. Well, it wasn’t okay, but he could get past it. Kind of.

Without much thought or planning the Doctor tipped them both over and he was on top of her, tongue exploring her mouth as if it was uncharted territory (and it kind of was, since he had never thought to actually map it the previous times they’d snogged). Rose moaned, pulled him impossibly closer, wrapped a leg around his hip, and he forgot all about mentally charting her mouth.

He was finally able to touch all of the tantalizing skin she’d had exposed all day, teasing him.

I love you, he projected across the bond and he didn’t care how often he told her. She needed to know.

I love you, too.

And maybe he needed to hear it. Just a bit.

He ran a hand up her back and felt her shiver … and then shiver some more.

When he pulled back, Rose was gasping for breath and still shivering.

“Sorry, here,” he said, helping her to stand before picking his coat up off the ground and wrapping it around her before holding her close.

“Y’know you’re not exactly warm, right?”

Actually, he’d forgotten. But really, after snogging Rose Tyler he felt like he was on fire , so-

Oh. Right.

“C’mon, I know just the thing!” he told her with a grin, letting her go and then taking her hand to lead her back down from the roof. 

Soon enough they were back in the city square, where three gigantic bonfires had been lit, surrounded by many smaller fires. The entire area and surrounding blocks we covered in red, orange, and yellow paper lanterns in various star shapes. It was quite warm.

They made a beeline towards the closest big fire.

“This is more like it,” Rose smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder. “Is it just me, or is the fire … glittery?”

“Nope, not just you. They call it ‘bip powder’. It’s also what’s making it smell like incense right now, instead of your usual wood-burning-smell.”

“I like it. We should get some of that, too.”

“Could do. But when do we ever have fires?” He looked down at her, furrowing his brow.

“In the TARDIS library?” Rose reminded him, complete with telepathic images of his own ship.

“Ohhh the TARDIS wouldn’t want bip powder in her grates. It’s … messy … and- and … the smell reminds her of hippies. The TARDIS is not a fan. I was talking about fires outside of the TARDIS.”

Even as the words fell out of his gob, he knew that his bondmate wasn’t going to buy it. Of course not. And it wasn’t really lying, so much as saving face, but none of that could be accomplished with a permanent telepathic connection.

“Don’t need to be in your head to know you’re full of it,” Rose informed him with a light smack to his bottom. She was still smiling, though, and her mind felt calm and happy and warm next to his, so at least he hadn’t upset her.

I don’t think I want you touching my bum in public, he lightly scolded her telepathically.

Says the alien who spent most of the day trying to shove his tongue down my throat?

“I did not!” the Doctor exclaimed, offended.

“Whatever you say.” Rose rolled her eyes and then her attention was taken by the music starting up. It was whimsical and cheery, but with a steady drumbeat that could be felt through your feet. And all at once, everyone started dancing around the fires, the locals doing a specific number with some tourists trying to copy it while others just did their own thing.

She took both his hands and pulled him into the dance, quick to catch on to the different stomping patterns and waves of hands. He was happy to follow her lead. Happy to dance with her. Happy to make this day last as long as he possibly could. Against the background of the fire, Rose looked even more like a goddess.

Doesn’t have to end. We’re on our honeymoon.

Visions of hotel rooms and many things that distracted him from dancing, nearly causing him to trip, flashed across the bond.

“Right you are, Rose Tyler.”

This time he knew better than to interrupt the dancing, dragging her off to the next great idea. They didn’t stop dancing until they reached the furthest bonfire, having moved through the square in a winding line. The dance wasn’t over, would go well into the night, but Rose’s feet were beginning to tire after being on them all day.

So as much as he wanted to run to the nearest hotel, he didn’t. They walked slowly, and she drank the last of their water, listening to the music and watching the seemingly unending dance.

When they eventually found a hotel - the Doctor didn’t feel like stopping to ask for directions - the lobby was empty of other guests, only a lone receptionist sitting at the desk.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?”

“No, no reservation. We’d like to book a room.”

The receptionist blinked.

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no rooms available. We’ve been fully booked for the festival for years.”

“For years? Really? Suppose that makes sense. Do you know of anywhere else in the area-”

“Everyone’s been fully booked for years.”

The Doctor frowned, then had them check the database just in case he did have a reservation - sometimes time travel could get around these things, tiny circular paradox. But they didn’t. Not anywhere in the city.

“Would you like to book a room for the next festival?”

He was about to say no, but then Rose said, “We’d love to. Honeymoon suite, if you can.”

Once everything was settled, they were back on the streets, still hotel-room-less for the present.

“What good did that do us?” he asked. “We’ve a room, but not for 15 years.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a time machine, and apparently countless other honeymoons to go on. Can do the festival again, and next time we play Jikltaii I can wear a wig.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

“Still, what do we do now?”

“May not have a hotel room, but we still have the TARDIS.”

“But that’s not honeymoon-y. That’s- that’s where we live.”

“I think we can still manage to make it honeymoon-y,” Rose smirked, as a bunch of very graphic scenarios filtered into his mind.

They ran back to the TARDIS.

They didn’t make it past the console room.

They didn’t even really make it out of their clothes.

[chefjarredjarred]

Anxiety. (excerpt)

People. “They're the worst,” Jerry once concurred with Elaine. And they are.

So I didn't really want a job as a verification specialist for a background check company,  making a hundred phone calls a day to anywhere in the country, but there was a time when it was a job I needed; it was remote so I could do it from my living room, it supplemented my main income from cooking and barbacking, and I was allowed to adjust my own schedule around that other work and my Tuesday morning therapy sessions.

But Jesus Christ, the people: the combative, the confused, the cavalier, the crotchety; the mousy, the crazy, the stupid, the lazy; the disgruntled, the bitter, the hateful, the bossy; the scammers, the liars, the paranoid; the unintelligible, or, through no fault of their own, the foreign; the mouth breathers, the assholes; the fast food workers, who are always a grab bag. I got them all, every day. And just one nice old lady from Florida, Ms. Charlene.

I got the job in part by cherry-picking some of my old chef experience and molding it all up into a wad of passable bullshit in the interview. Not lies, you know, just bullshit. I sold the personal importance of always speaking concisely and effectively, and of remaining cool and courteous and logical even when being angrily berated by the most ignorant, disrespectful know-nothings. Okay, so that one tiny lie. I made no mention of smashing saucers, slinging sheet pans, or every chef's favorite, smiting servers. (But come on, FOH, y'all know when you're asking for it.) I gave no indication that my rage, anxiety, and feelings of undeserved victimhood and exhaustion were a nest of coiled snakes, something every person who has ever worked in a kitchen around me could sense. Do your job, leave the attitude outside the kitchen doors, and speak only of pith and pertinence during service. Don't fuck with me, don't get fanged.

A bartender I worked with for years once called me unapproachable. It was in the same breath that she called me a dick, proving that the robotic personality of feigned professionalism and phony positivity (every company has their Stepford Wives, don't they?) on which she prided herself—loathed by so many in the restaurant—could be cracked, and I loved that I had been the one to do it. But the part about being a dick wasn't a bold quotable. My being unapproachable became a favorite running joke for years, perverted and perpetuated by me. Y'all think I'm unapproachable? I am. Fuck off.

But that's truncated, for effect and time. Fuck off, I have a job to do, is the real, full statement, and a linchpin tenet of my style of cheffing. I don't need loud voices, loud noises, disrespect, emotional clouding, confusion, excuses, etc., or that irritable anxiety snake could be disturbed. “Just the facts, ma'am.” There's just no time for the extraneous.

Don't disrupt the flow of food.

That's the principle I emphasized in the interview, just folded into the bullshit wad that made it applicable to phoning idiotic, ornery strangers—and Ms. Charlene. Obviously, I had to omit the venom, violence, viciousness, the vitriol. There was already a tiny stumble in there when the interviewer asked if I would describe myself as an introvert, and I, being honest to a fault at the most inappropriate moments, confessed that I would.

“You do know what this job is, right?”

I actually didn't, right up until about two seconds before that question, but I recovered gracefully, explaining some crap about being able to turn on the smiles and pleasantries when I meant business, something like that.

Fake smiles. Ugh. God dammit. I actively campaign against them. A fake smile is the opposite of Fuck off, of the pith and pertinence, the order and efficiency I expected, of just the facts. It's a capitulation, a white flag.

You know what I absolutely hate more than people? The expectation that I'm obligated to give them a fake smile. It's a banner that says you're willing to accept the extraneous, the unexpected, that whatever they are about to say and the way they will say it has some compelling power over you, and that you have all the time in the world to stand there and graciously let it be unloaded onto you. That your anxiety is not there and not real.

That you are approachable.

Fake smiles are blood in the water. That's right, when it goes from snakes to sharks.

“What we always say here is 'Smile and dial!'”

It was a virtual interview, and he couldn't see or hear my feet double-kick-drumming the floor. But what he did hear and what I couldn't believe was the fake laugh I forced through my fake smile. Jesus, Jarred, you're escalating? Allowance is support. “Sure, sure,” I said, as if I were a lifelong brown-noser. You're a disgrace.

“If you can run a kitchen, I have no doubt that you can do this.”

I didn't either. That's misinformation, that anxiety is simply fear. I wasn't afraid I would fail (literally anyone, barring anxiety, can be a verification “specialist”). In fact, I was totally confident I could succeed...theoretically. He said it: If I could run a kitchen, I could do this. The things that worried me were the scheduling, sleeping, caffeinating, eating, speaking, putting on my fake personality with my fake smile, and juggling and maintaining it all every day without falter, without letting on that there was any internal difficulty. I worried not about my actual job performance, but how I might struggle to simultaneously perform and hide my character flaws, i.e. the stuff that I left hanging out in the open when I was a chef. Does that make any sense?

Anxiety, not fear.

So the job was simple, but not easy, and there was a lot to make an anxious person anxious: the people, of course; the never-ending flood of calls; the quick navigating of the system when someone backpedaled or said something inaccurate or swung their mood in an instant; the software glitches; the hold music. Every second of the workday, even your coffee-caused poop break, was timed and factored in to your production average. You were judged and graded by making a ton of calls and/or closing as many cases as you could, which sounds fine, but is actually decided by chance more than some mathematical guarantee. That angered me the most, watching my closes and “touches” tabulated throughout the day, working against each other, my percentage of success being stretched thinner and thinner as I piled up calls that became mere touches rather than closes. It was the opposite of what we really wanted, and the secret little opposite of what we were trained to believe. The pessimist in me knew that the given goals were just out of reach, of course, so we would unknowingly meet the real goals and feel worthless at the end of the day, like we hadn't done enough. The realist in me hated the pretending that we had any control over it. The fatalist in me knew that it didn't matter, but could not force the crippled, anxious existentialist in me to just shut the fuck up.

...Oh, there is no optimist in here, if you were waiting for it.

I knew the fatalist was right after a sweet, timid childcare worker put me on hold to find something useful for me, which would only be a different number or a different person or, if life were easy, the name of a recognized third party verification website. This was 10:40 in the morning, in my first hour of the workday that was already a little too unfruitful. I watched the timer tick away, and when she returned, she had found...an unrecognized third party verification website. That meant I had to type a message into our Teams chat to request a supervisor's review and approval to put the name of the website in the little box and move to the next call.

Eight minutes had now passed as I waited for an answer. I had let the worker, Taylor, hang up already so she could get her eyes back on what wild heathens she may have had under her watch. It was a personal rule of mine to never hold restaurant workers or childcare workers hostage on the phone, because their work was more important than mine. I thought about the time my mom came to pick me up from one of these daycare facilities, walking in at the same time as another little boy's father, together to catch the perfect and precise moment that I socked that boy right across his jaw with full force, superhero super-spinning into that punch in defiance of his superior strength and grip of my head as he had tried to slam my skull into a wooden shelf for a second time. We were bloody, snotty, and sweaty in the throes of killer instinct, but I still caught the looks of horror on our parents' faces. Why the fistfight happened, I don't remember, but how? Well, because someone who was supposed to be paying attention, wasn't. Kids will go feral and push the boulder on Piggy as soon as your back is turned. I let Taylor off the phone for that reason. I waited for a supervisor's response in the chat, watching the seconds count on and that first hour, and thus the rest of my day and any hope of average achievement, drift away from me. They told me the site was no good and I needed to call poor Taylor back and try again. I sighed, copied the number and clicked the button, explained to her what was happening, and with real politeness she placed me, again, on hold. She came back with a phone number but the same uncertainty.

But in the chat, a supervisor had offered another phone number, different from what I was now taking down on the call. I was urged to try that one instead, so I let Taylor go back to the children a final time, and made my third phone call of the case. An automated message finally pointed me to a recognized third party verification website, and gave the particular employer code needed to access it. The anxiety snake and the rage snake were waking and knotted. I clicked the Other Automated Method button...and the system skipped on to complete the case, without letting me input the website or the code. “No, hell no.” I backed up and tried again. Same result, the skip. I went back to the chat and explained, and typed “Can someone please help me before my head explodes” with no punctuation.

A supervisor called me, and I shared my screen with her. “Let's see what happ—Oh, the client put it on hold, so just exit. It doesn't matter.”

It doesn't matter.

11:01. One close, 13 touches. I was white hot.

The anxiety, the rage, the pessimism, realism, fatalism, the whole nest of snakes was awake and wiggling, tossing, tangling themselves up like a... Well, you know. Like a rubber-band ball. I violently ripped the headset off of me, pushing breath through my teeth like the snarling little Jarred who punched that stupid kid in the mouth in the daycare brawl. I thought about that famed image of the snake eating its tail, whatever it's called. I thought about quitting. I thought about how two days before, my therapist and I had tried to come up with a suitable and available grounding technique I could try to prevent this exact, inevitable moment, this kind of anxiety attack. I thought about telling her how I thought that I was failing at everything. You're a disappoi— Shut the fuck up, Jarred—

It doesn't matter? I thought about that, that every moment of the day was part of the calculation of my performance grade for something ultimately shrugged off. That I spent 20 fucking minutes wasting my fucking time to get something that doesn't fucking matter but earns for me a judgment as if it does fucking matter.

But I thought about how I needed that little bit of extra money, and the other reasons for seeking and taking the job. Breathe, Jarred.

And that was not an isolated incident. Every day I fought for the energy and will to tether myself with the headset, log in, and hear the first ring. It came immediately, every single morning. I'd close my eyes and siiiigh through that first ring, just before being snatched along and pummeled by the frenzy.

I tried earnestly the smile-and-dial one time. I felt like Nicolas Cage in one of those especially wacky scenes of Face/Off. A total psycho, unhinged.

The calls were recorded and scrutinized, for quality and legality, and a handful a month were sent back to me to review whatever I had done wrong, or what I could do better.

Ah, yes. So there was another itchy, irritating thread of anxiety even on the less violent days.

Do you ever hear your own recorded voice and you hate yourself and wish you had never been born? Yeah, me too. So I only ever listened to one call and that was enough of that. I didn't want to hear myself. That voice wasn't mine, it was some cartoon-like, nasally Billy Bob Thornton's voice, reverberating somewhere way up high in the sinuses.

A hundred calls a day is a lot of talking. I began obsessing over how I pronounce—among many other things—the number four. There were fours everywhere, embedded, like chocolate chips in cookie dough, throughout almost every case number, and in our callback number I had to recite on dozens of voicemails per day. I wondered if I could trust my own ears in hearing the way I would say it, or if in reality I sounded like I was four. Fohwuh. Every day I ran this mental gamut of self-critique and insult, concentrating insanely on the most minute and deliberate flicks and curls of my tongue and lips. Any word becomes weirdly unnatural when you pay such specific attention to it. But I put so much (too much) effort into working on a competent phone voice not only so I wouldn't sound like a jackass, but so I could be efficient in my work and thus keep up with the production quota. I needed 20 touches an hour, not 13, so I needed people to understand me so I could get in, get out, and get on the next call. My strategy was to try and emulate the radio voice of Christopher Kimball—polite, proper, pronounced, professional. In my dirty pajamas, sitting on a lumpy pillow on a hand-me-down office chair as it was clawed to pieces by my screaming cats, I wanted to sound like I was wearing a bow tie. Like I was in a real office without cats, with a real college degree framed proudly on the wall. Polished and prepared.

It's hard work, if you can imagine. I'm not a talker. I don't like strangers. They're unpredictable. Any unexpected wrench in the routine could prove how fragile the facade is, that I'm actually a wobbly stack of quivering, anxious gremlins pretending to be a presentable person in, I guess, an imaginary bow tie.

It's hard work, if you'll let me say that again. But I thought I was doing pretty well. I hadn't cussed anyone out and I hadn't hurled the computer through the window, at least.

Then one day I called an office in Shelby, North Carolina. A woman answered, lazily, and I stated my reason for calling. She just said, “Hold on,” dismissively, with no practiced professionalism whatsoever. There's a lot of that out there. A rare treat then it was when I spoke with anyone trying to exude the same level of maturity as I, during business hours. My Kimball voice was for your benefit, lady. You didn't care. I know this because instead of really putting me on hold, instead of pressing a button to leave me in that telephonic waiting area listening to one of those overused cheap songs, like the one with the incessant MIDI claps that makes my toes tense and my teeth clench and jarringly reminds me that the anxiety is always bang-bang-banging at the door of the closet I locked it in, instead of just conducting two seconds of mundane business like a normal goddamn person, this woman just set the phone down on her desk and, evidently sickened beyond composure, blurted to her coworker, “God, I hate when someone clears their throat while I'm on the phone with them.” I did?

There I was, exposed, a bunch of phlegmy gremlins, collapsing and scrambling. Instantly I remembered the time my dad and stepmom asked me if I was on some kind of drug, because I cleared my throat “a lot.” Yeah, I don't know what they were talking about either, but apparently this involuntary habit is remarkably frequent. And a hundred calls a day I was doing this. How many of these people find me disgusting, inhuman, or think I'm on drugs? How about people in everyday life? Do my friends mock me? Who taught you how to function, Jarred? My mind spiraled, the snakes squirmed and seethed.

The rest of the phone call was stiff and clumsy, tears welling like a porn star's while I silently packed down the coughs and chokes congesting behind whatever ball of bile bottlenecking at the back of my throat, because I should die right on the living room carpet, sacrificial and blue, lest I irk this absolute cuntbag's social sensitivities, gurgling grotesque and oozing disease.

But am I crazy or...ahem...is that just trivially fucking inoffensive? If I had frog squatted on my desk and—“Verify this, bitch!”—farted into a metal basin full of Cracker Barrel gravy, then sure, be mad. Slam the phone down. Say to the guy by the copier, “Why me?!” and vow to get me fired. But if a natural, nonchalant throat-clearing infuriates you enough to comment on it, you're honestly just an asshole. It's not a frog squat gravy fart, it's not a rude personal affront. It's somewhere way below open mouth chewing, there around unfortunate but necessary nose blowing. I'm gross, you're gross, we're all gross. Get over it, and then, Fuck off, I have a job to do.

I did briefly wonder if maybe she's an anxious person too, a gremlin, maybe her facade is as fragile as mine, but I don't think so, because her attitude when she answered my call had already indicated to me that she never dressed up in a fake bow tie. She thinks she's a normal person: reckless, careless, unprofessional. No phone tone, no Kimball timbre. And because of that, she gave me another thing to worry about, to nag at me, something uncontrollable that I'd be trying to temper, something unconsciously mechanical now made noticeable and manual and clumsy. Thanks.

I was just worried about my goofy voice.

If you're thinking that it's all just a little silly and ridiculously minuscule, then congratulations, you're one of those “normal” people, like Ms. Shelby North Carolina. You make our lives worse.

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: The Boy

Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes, Stucky x reader

warning:  fluff

The First kiss |  The first touch | Moving In | The day they left for war | Found you | The day Stark found out | Big Change | The Train | The Plane | Alone | Unfortunate sequences of events | I know her | The Resturant part 1 | The Resturant part 2 | It’s me | You can keep her | He’s okay with that | Mama loves me | Kissing Captain | Kissing Winter | Healing | Hurt | We’ll Wait | Memories | Prude | Whore | Put in her place | The day Stark Jr. Found out | Now you know |  Nursing | Like a Virgin | Morning After | The Catacombs | Off with her head | Grieving the Insane | Let me make it up to you | Punishment | Spiderling pt1 | Spiderling pt2 | Twentieth-century love | The new we can imagine | Connection | Please, marry me | Walk me | Stand with me | Final touches | I Do | Honeymoon | A moment of Paradise | Pictures from Paradise | The Fever | The bad days | Let’s talk about it | Practice makes perfect pt1 | Practice makes perfect pt2 | Seed | Unknown Stolen | unfulfilled Duties | Talking Emotion | Next Step | Holy Shit!! | First steps to hope | She’s Awake | Nicknames | The Mother and The father | The Boy

The party was really an excuse for Tony to turn up the music and everyone else to eat as much junk food and sugary sweets with out Steve scolding them about dieting and health. The hanging banner saying 'It's a Girl' was a nice touch putting a smile on everyone's face. 

Although everyone tried to talk to her she wasn't really responsive and didn't seem comfortable with all the attention on her so they eventually just let her be sitting quietly in the corner observing everyone. 

"Hey" Peter called out as he came off the elevators " Party! what for?" " A new addition to the family" (Y/n) called out as she handed him a glass of champagne and dragged him over to her " come meet my daughter. Hey, Hey, Pretty Penny this is Peter Parker aka Spider-Man-" "Dude!" "Oh please, she was going to find out anyways. Now and days he spends most of his time at college but he does come visit most weekends. Peter this is my daughter, isn't she beautiful." She blushed a bit at (Y/n) compliant " You know you guys are around the same age you're 20 she's 18. You guys are going to make good friends. Talk" And like that she introduced and left them. At first Peter didn't know what to do she just dragged him here and left him taking a small breath he took a seat across from him . " Hey, I'm Peter-Wait she just told you that. Um.... I don't think- I didn't catch your name." she shook her head " You don't want to say your name?" she shook her head again " you don't ….have a name?" she nodded " You don't have a name. Wait, you don't have a name? How does that happen?" Being away at college now left Peter out of the loop with most missions now. While he was aware there was a new female in the tower that the Avenger were taking care of it that was about it. Where is Tony did message Peter every day he never shared any information about their missions, projects, or jobs over the phone if Peter wanted to know he'd have to come find out.  Seeing as she had decided to be selectively mute and showed no signs of knowing sigh language Natasha had given her a notepad and pen to make things a bit more easier for everything. She hadn't used it until now. Pulling it out she wrote 'Hydra' and showed it to him.  "Hydra? they got you. I'm sorry to hear that..." Peter didn't really know what else to say he was still clueless to her situation and didn't want to talk about it in case it was sensitive topic but then again he didn't know what he could talk about " Hey, do you know Star Wars?" she shook her head 'no' and Peter gasped dramatically leaning back and clenching his chest you would have thought she told him she kicked his dog. " We need to fix that. What else don't you know?" And that started them having a long conversation, well Peter talking and her listening, about what she has missed out on what she need to know and catch up on. Peter had planned out the next five weekends with her already. He was going to educate her on pop culture and everything else nerd.  "Look at them" (Y/n) whispered to Bucky as she leaned on his shoulder they both watched Peter and her in their corner ignoring the rest of the party. " They're getting along well. They're becoming friends isn't that nice." "I think you're looking too much into it he's just talking." "They're best friends now. shh don't ruin the moment" they too she creepily watched them together in their corner. Peter talking excitedly while she listened hanging on to every work. He had her full attention and (Y/n) could imagine he'd have it for a very long time. Steve came by and gave the two things a plate of cakes and sweets the conversation then switched from Stars Wars to baked goods and all she hasn't tried.  "They're getting along"  "That's what I said" (Y/n) said to Steve. "You're really happy aren't you" Bucky asked  "Yes, Yes, I am"  "Sorry to interrupt the moment then" Steve said " But I don't know how to take care of a teenager especially a girl. All the books I read were on babies. Although I'm pretty sure I read an article that said boys were bad so …-" Bucky smacked him upside the head and pulled him back before he could go torture poor Peter. "I think it's a bit early to play the protective dad card. Give it a few more months, yeah" Bucky said pulling him by his collar and into a kiss " Don't worry about it right now. Let her make friends" Polyamorous Poll Take this^ survey and choose the name and gender of the child ....or children.  Her name will be revealed in the next chapter. 

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[authoressskr]

Write Into Your Arms [4]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Thor, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Angst (mostly in and out of last couple chapters), Action (3rd chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here)

Word Count: 11,560   ::   Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next parts will be posted by the end of this week. All will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small-time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

*Note: Endgame happened - kind of. Steve didn’t go back to the 40s. Tony didn’t die. Natasha got brought back with the Bruce Snap. Bruce is not the Hulk mashup they had going on. Everything else happened. This takes place 3 years after defeating Thanos.*

[PART 3]

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Sleeping alone the last few nights had taken forever and you feel it begin to take its toll.

You’re still scrubbing a hand over your exhausted face as you tottle into the kitchen. Happy is making a smoothie, the grinding noise immediately grinding on your nerves at the shitty sleep you had gotten.

What if you screwed up and now you needed someone to sleep with after the attack? With that someone being a certain blue-eyed Sergeant…

You shove that thought away for a later time as you climb onto a barstool.

“Smoothie? Banana and strawberry - got some blueberries in there too. A little protein powder to kick it up a little.” Happy is far too chipper for you this early, but you force a smile at him. It’s not his fault you slept so bad.

“Sure. I’ll take whatever.”

“Granola?”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there, Happy. Only one healthy thing at breakfast at a time.” You push yourself out of the barstool to look in the fridge nearly cursing aloud when you see the milk is gone. All three fucking different kinds. “Ugh. I guess I’ll have some granola, Hap.”

“Yogurt?”

“Yes, sir.” You look around the empty kitchen. Weird. Extra weird. “Where is everyone?”

“Steve, Bucky, Sam, Carol, Hope, Scott, Shuri, and Peter all went for a morning run. They should be back in about half an hour. Tony and Pepper headed to the Tower to handle some paperwork and meetings. Okoye is in the conference room with a call from Wakanda. Bruce, T’Challa, Vision, Thor, Rocket, and Nebula are in the big lab - doing what, I don’t know. Not sure I want to know. Quill and Drax are presumably still sleeping on the ship. Gamora and Wong are sparring in the gym with Natasha, Wanda, and Clint. I assume Strange popped out, but again, can’t say for sure. Don’t have a clue where Rhodey is either. Mantis, Groot and Valkyrie are walking the grounds.”

“Valkyrie?!” You gasp around a mouthful of granola. “When did she get here?!”

“Thor went and got her. Said it would cheer you up after the Incident to see the King of Asgard.”

“Aww. He’s too sweet!” Well, that was beyond thoughtful!

“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Happy leans on the countertop, looking you dead in the eye, “So what are you and Barnes doing? Just ask him out. Everyone is betting on it happening and if you do it today, I get $500 extra dollars from Rhodey and an extra couple grand from Tony.”

“What the hell, Happy?! Not cool, buddy.” You hiss at him, shocked at his words. Not terribly surprised, since there was a building full of bored superheroes who all operate real money like a toddler with a fistful of Monopoly money.

“What? You like him, he likes you. I don’t see a problem. You two shared a bed, he’s been following you around and taking pictures of you, he’s got a nickname for you...the two of you are constantly brushing against each other now. I could go on…” He waves his hand in a forward motion, making you frown. Bucky was taking pictures of you? And following you around? And you hadn’t noticed either of those things? Had he been the one to take your camera?

“Thanks for breakfast, Happy.” You manage not to snap the words out and also manage not to stomp back to your room. But once there, you hover just past the closed and locked door.

What to do now?

You feel a need in your chest. Maybe you need the relief crying brings? And it’s this thought that makes you wonder: Is it the lack of sleep? Is it the back and forth with Bucky? Is it the fact you are seemingly so easy for all of them to read? How had you let this happen?

You let them draw you out of your bubble while mooning over the former Winter Soldier...

Your emotions were too over the place right now but you knew what you needed to do: finish up these interviews and get the hell out before you got your heartbroken.

Although you feared it was already badly bruised by this decision.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Doll?” Bucky draws her out of her thoughts, your eyes just staring out over the empty gym. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been sort of out of it since yesterday. Do you need to, ya know, talk to someone?”

“No,” You give him a tight smile. “Just lost in my thoughts.”

“Maybe you need a break?”

“I need to finish the interviews.” Bucky takes your hand in his gently, his thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. He had barely seen you yesterday and it worried him.

“I think you need a break, beautiful. You were staring off into space and the only reason I knew you were in here was because I heard you sigh.”

“It’s just so much more difficult with them! And I don’t know why!” You flip open your notebook, pointing to the interview with Rocket you just finished, angrily jabbing at the offending page. “Rocket doesn’t remember where he’s from or where he escaped from exactly and he’s defensive about it. Won’t discuss it at all. Which is fine. Really!” Another sigh escapes you. “But every other question I ask he just scoffs at. Plus he’s throwing a lot of alien terms out when he talks about what he does, which I then have to have him explain. That just leads to him complaining and that just takes time from the interview.”

“Rocket might be better with someone like him to keep him straight. I’ll talk to Tony about it, okay? Did you have lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Well we should -” She withdraws her hand from his, Bucky’s chest tightening at the action.

“And I’m not hungry. Thank you though, Bucky. I’m just going to go find Valkyrie. Maybe she’ll be easier to interview.” She collects her things quietly, slipping from the room as Bucky sits there a bit bewildered.

Yesterday she hadn’t really spoken to anyone and he’d felt bad for not spending more time with her. They’d taken extra time on the morning run to help the vineyard owner with their vintage truck that had broken down on the road. And when they’d gotten home and showered, Thor had just been going on and on about his wonderful interview to Bruce, Scott, and Stephen. Bucky had shot the god a dirty look before clenching his jaw so hard he was sure he heard a pop.

Bucky had figured she would have already been up, about and ready to interview. And she had just one interview that day; Quill. 

He’d given her a tour of the ship and then they stayed on board while they did the interview - Bucky seated by one of the big windows closest to the patio forcing himself every so often to unclench his jaw and relax his fisted hands as he waited not-so-patiently for them to return to the compound.

He knows the Guardians are different than the Avengers, a little more avant-garde and rough around the edges - okay, a lot more - but he also knows they’ll do the right thing. Most of the time. And Tony has reminded him that he needs to trust them with her.

But he doesn’t want to.

He exits the gym just as quietly as she did, determined to track Steve and Tony down. You needed the Guardians to work with you so you could do a good job on the interviews. That’s when he passes by the conference room, your voice drawing him from his thoughts and making him pause.

“I’m glad with the results, Lina.” You have the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, scribbling in your notebook with a little frown.

“No, Lina, I’m not going to do that.”

“Yes,” You huff out angrily. “I am aware I don’t sound like myself.”

“No! I’m not going to just throw in the towel and go home!” He watches you run your fingers through your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

“I will get through these damn interviews if it kills me.”

“I’m so fucking tired. My emotions are everywhere. Bucky just found me staring off into space. I need some sleep. I need a drink. I need to stop feeling guilty for badgering them with questions, eating their food and wearing the very expensive clothes Tony got me. I need something else but I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s not homesickness. I just want -” You pause. “I don’t even know what I want.” It’s a whisper, your confession, and it makes his chest squeeze tighter. He stops eavesdropping and continues to go find Tony and Steve, calling out to FRIDAY once he’s out of earshot, determined to make you feel better - like before.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Valkyrie is a blessing from above.

You honestly almost burst out in tears at her calm, concise demeanor and frankness.

She’s whip-smart, unafraid to speak her mind, and witty to boot. She offers you a drink as soon as you sit down, making you shake your head no. You really don’t need to drink in the mindset you’re in right now. Then again… No. No, better not.

“Were the Valkyries on Asgard anything like the ones written about here on Earth?” She snorts at your question, taking a long pull from her beer bottle before tossing herself into the oversized blue chair in her room.

“No, not at all. There are a few similarities, but we weren’t sewing and making bullshit tapestries of the humans ‘great battles’. We were warriors. When we weren’t honing our skills, training Valkyrie hopefuls or drinking, we led normal lives on Asgard. Our leader sat in on meetings with Odin, we helped patrol the city in times of uncertainty, we courted and loved...we were strong.” She leads off, looking away from you.

“And then Hela came?” Your words are soft, the look in your eyes even softer.

“And then Hela came. First, she destroyed my sisters, my family, my friends. Took everything from me. And then she came again. Like a ghost from the past, I had hoped never to lay my eyes on again.” She swallows before pursing her lips slightly, tapping her thumb idly against her bottle. “Only this time she killed our people and destroyed our home. This time she nearly took everything again. But Asgard is a people, not a place. And I survived to see her die, so I feel I was able to avenge my sisters in a way.”

“I think they’d be glad to know she’s gone and can’t hurt anyone anymore.” She nods once before leaning back in the chair. “To think, a lot of things might have gone differently if Odin had been honest.” Valkyrie snorts in agreement before taking another drink. “Asgardians seems to have some pretty big secrets.”

“That’s what happens when you live so long, little poet,” Valkyrie winks before shuffling down a bit more in the chair.

“I suppose so,” You raise an eyebrow at the nickname, agreeing to her words with a little shrug before diving into your other questions. Asgardians nickname you FAST.

Asking about New Asgard, about being King, and about what she misses most about her sisters distracts you from your thoughts of failure on your other interviews and from Bucky, who had been so nice to you, but hadn’t really tried to touch you in the last two days until just before in the gym. He seemed to be distracting himself just as much as you are and it slightly pisses you off that he still feels guilty over what happened. But the anger always dissipates nearly as soon as you recognize it, knowing you aren’t angry - but something else. If only you could fucking figure out what that something else was...

“Something you like about Earth?”

“Variety,” She says with a grin that has some flirty overtones, chuckling when your eyes widen ever so slightly. “Ya know,” She begins, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I could help take your mind off whatever troubles you, little poet. We can get Bruce or Thor if that makes you feel better.” She reaches out to pat your knee affectionately and while this isn’t the first time you’ve been propositioned - by a man or woman - this was the first time others were offered as part of the deal. And unlike the others, you don’t feel leery of Valkyrie. What she’s offering is honest and upfront, with no side agenda like the men always seemed to have. You were slightly shocked you still felt comfortable with her after she suggested that. Now you kind of wish Bucky would suggest that, but you know that would hurt your heart more when you had to leave.

“Thank you for that. But I don’t have sex with people I’m interviewing.” Her grin never leaves her face.

“That’s alright. I’ll ask again when you’re done with your writing and interviewing,” You can’t help smiling at her tone, so self-assured, feeling her hand at the small of your back as she heads towards her bedroom door with you. “I wouldn’t sleep with Thor but I think you’d enjoy it. Bruce, I might be tempted to, but I like the Hulk better, but I know he would see to your pleasure. But I know you’ve got your eye on the metal-armed super soldier.” You look at her, the question must have been crystal clear in your eyes, along with the shock of her talking about Bruce and Thor’s sexual prowess. “We all see it. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. I find it adorable you are so shy, easy going and easily flustered. Not to mention attractive. So I understand why the Sergeant glares at everyone who gets a little too close, touches you a little longer than appropriate here on Earth.” Sort of like now...

“Thank you for the compliments, Brunhilde.” Her eyebrow arching smoothly with surprise. “Thor didn’t tell me - I just did my homework and guessed,” A small sigh escapes your lips after your victorious smile. “I thought we took a step back after the attack but I also thought he would make a move after we smoothed that out. But I’m still waiting. And I’m tired of initiating too. I-I-I’m just not very good at this.” You gesture between yourself and the closed door and then between yourself and Brunhilde.

“Don’t worry, little poet. I’ll help you out. You don’t need to do anything. We can give him the kick in the pants he needs.”

“But,” She drops her hand, lifting it to squeeze your free hand at your soft tone. “I don’t want him forced or coerced. I want him to want me and act on it.”

“And that’s what you deserve, little poet,” And she kisses your cheek tenderly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::xxxxxxxxxx:::

“Alright, listen up, freeloaders!” Every head snaps towards Tony. “Apparently our new housemates aren’t treating our writer well.”

“How is that our fault? You all are the ones who tossed her outside to fend for herself!” Quill shouts back, pushing himself out of his chair to stand before Bucky growls at him across the table.

“Look, we aren’t at a damn cantina in space - so I need you to pull your heads out of your asses and for fuck’s sake stop flirting with her,” Tony glares at Quill. “And stop making her feel stupid for not knowing your space jargon, Mr. Build-A-Bear,” Tony points to Rocket, “or butting into others interviews,” Tony gestures towards Drax who looks to his left at Nebula, who rolls her eyes. “No, not her, Drax. You!” Drax points to himself.

“I didn’t interrupt anyone.”

“You interrupted me! How am I supposed to make a move on her when you’re in the ship butting in?”

“She isn’t here for you to hit on,” Scott clarifies. “She’s here to interview us. She wants to make us look human, make everyone see the sacrifices we’ve been through and you schmucks are gonna drive her to drink!”

“I agree with the Ant. She is too...chipper for myself but seems more than competent. More so than these morons,” Nebula’s rough voice disturbs the quiet after Scott.

“Okay - fine! I’ll try not to hit on her anymore and Rocket will try to be nicer. I can’t fix Drax -”

“I’ll try to keep them more in line,” Gamora agrees with a nod, tapping her forefinger against the heavy wooden tabletop.

“You should all be responsible for yourselves. Be nice. She’s nice to all of you. She was so excited you all were coming and so far her favorite person is Valkyrie of New Asgard. On Earth.”

“That really can’t be helped, she is rather wonderful,” Thor smiles at Tony who fights an eye roll. “Both of them.”

Bucky nearly snarls at Thor, gripping the arm of his chair so tight he feels the metal buckle beneath his grip.

“We will all be better behaved. Even if I must make them, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“Thank you, Mantis.” Rhodey gives her a nod. “Everyone go ahead and go about the rest of your day.”

They all file out except Bucky and Thor who are staring each other down.

“I am not after the little rose, Sergeant.”

“She’d be better off with someone like you. But I just can’t let her go, you understand?”

“I do. But she is already taken with you. She does not look at any of us, nor talks to any of us as she talks to you.” Bucky nods, releasing the metal from his grip and resting his hand on the table.

“I’m-I know I should ask her out but yesterday and today...makes me think that she’s trying to stop herself from getting hurt.”

“You won’t hurt her, Bucky. It is not in your makeup to harm her nor anyone you care about. You are more different than Steve then I realized, but I like it. Remind me of myself after I learned some hard lessons.”

“I’m glad we are on the same page then.”

“Oh, my friend, we are not on the same page at all.” Thor begins with a deep chuckle as Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I agree you might deserve her and I agree I will not pursue her now, but you need to make a decision or release her. Valkyrie and I both already have a soft spot for her. And are waiting eagerly in the wings, as it were.” Thor stands with a bright, happy grin, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’ll see you at dinner then!” And he walks from the room like he fucking owns it.

“I hate him,” Bucky mutters to himself before leaving the conference room in a huff.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

Natasha comes into your room while you’re parked in your usual spot, laptop playing the opening chords of ‘All My Life’ by K-Ci and JoJo as you switch between typing and adding notes to your notebook.

“Did you find your camera?”

“What?!” You set your laptop to the side, focusing all your attention on the redhead. “You had it?”

“Yes. I wanted to see what pictures you had taken.”

“You could’ve asked!” Natasha pauses for a nano-second before shrugging.

“Sometimes I forget you are so open. With no ulterior motives.”

“Natasha, you honestly have no idea how much it hurts that that is how you live your life. Always suspicious.”

“It’s kept me alive.”

“I’m sure it’s kept many people alive. But what a terrible mindset to always be thinking ‘What do they want from me?’ or ‘What information are they after?’” You turn back towards the window, pulling your laptop back into your lap and staring resolutely at the screen. “Thank you for returning it, Natasha. Did you need anything else?”

“No, I suppose not. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you for the concern, but I’m just dandy.”

“And you’re still a terrible liar. I just wanted to let you know that Rocket and Groot will be ready in an hour to interview. Well, re-interview for the trash panda.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Natasha. I’ll get on that.”

“Come see me afterward,” Her voice leaves no room for argument so you just nod, the door closing softly behind the redhead, the sound nearly covered by the sound of your heavy sigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rocket is faaaar better behaved this time around - and that makes you suspicious.

Thor comes in about halfway through and whispers that he’ll review the recording with you later if you’d like to make sure Rabbit is translating correctly. You thank him, giving his hand on the back of your chair a squeeze. He then pulls a chocolate bar from his pocket and hands it to you.

“For your patience,” He says with a wink before leaving.

“Nice. Didn’t bring us anything.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, ‘course he likes her.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know - you ask her.” Groot looks at you, gesturing from the closed conference room door to you.

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, I like him too. He’s sneakily sweet.”

“I am Groot.”

“No,” Rocket chuckles. “Quill never stood a chance. She likes Bucky, with the arm.”

“I am Groot.”

“I do not have a problem! Mind your own beeswax!” Your sigh draws Rocket’s attention. “Sorry. Sorry,” He holds up his little hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m on my best behavior.”

“And I thank you for that, Rocket. I really do.”

“Yeah...yeah…” He waves his hand again. “Go ahead with your line of questioning.”

“So kind of you, sir,”

“Can the sarcasm, smartass,” He smiles - or grimaces, you can’t tell at the moment - but you do as he asks (tells). But not before giving him a mock salute and continuing with the questions.

“Describe to me, please, how you two met.”

“This one got himself arrested,” Rocket points to Groot. “I happened, through no fault of my own,”

“Of course,” You murmur in agreement.

“To be in the prison they tossed him in. They couldn’t understand him, so I told ‘em he kept asking what the charges were. They told me to shut up and shoved - well, shoved as hard as they could, but he went willingly - into the cell - wait!” He snaps his fingers. “What’s that word? It’s one of your religious-based words to describe an idiot.”

“I am Groot.”

“I agree with Groot, Rocket. He isn’t an idiot.” Groot nods while Rocket rubs under his chin, ears not as perked up as before as he thinks.

“Putty!” Rocket exclaims finally, grinning at you like he’s proud.

“Putty is a compound. I think you’re looking for the word putz. It’s Yiddish and I’m pretty sure it means dick, not an idiot. Yutz means foolish, I think.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, Quill is a putz sometimes. You’re a yutz.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know Yiddish, how am I supposed to know?” Rocket shifts his attention back to you. “You know more Yiddish words? Groot wants a word for informative.” Frowning, you reach for your phone, quickly typing in Yiddish words.

“I don’t see one a non-Jewish person would know...another word maybe, Groot?”

“I am Groot.”

“Confident,” Rocket supplies as you scroll.

“Chutzpah. Nerve, confidence, brazen, gumption.”

“I am Groot.”

“He said that works. He likes it too.”

“Good, I’ll grab a couple of Yiddish dictionaries and we can learn some words together.”

“I am Groot?” You look from Groot to Rocket.

“He said, even in Space?”

“Yeah! I’ll have to ask Tony for a way to talk to you in space since average people don’t have that tech.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah - don’t worry, kid, I’ll fix you up with something.” He winks after he says it, sharp little teeth showing as he grins, Groot sporting his own toothy (bark-y?) grin at you.

“More questions alright?”

“Go ahead then,” Rocket gives a wave of his furry hand while Groot nods and settles more comfortably in his chair.

And so you do, with glee igniting in your veins once again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Drax and Mantis’ joint interview is monitored by Carol, but Drax doesn’t seem to care about who is monitoring him, he just says and does as he pleases. Which includes leaving after he believes his part is done.

“Did you get what you needed?” Carol asks, draped over a black velvet upholstered chair sideways, tapping on her wrist device before pinning you with her intense gaze. You review what he’s answered, tapping the pen against the paper while you purse your lips and go over it again.

“Yeah, I think I have enough. He answered all the big questions...I can just pester him later if I need to. Thank you though.” Carol just nods as Mantis scoots a little closer in her wooden chair, a bright smile on her face.

“You seem much happier today.”

“I’m feeling a little better, thanks.”

“Maybe once you are finished with the hard part of asking us all these questions, it will feel like a weight has been lifted?”

“I’m not sure. This is the biggest project I’ve ever taken on. I think not having a break from the chaos just sort of exacerbates it since I’m usually pretty solitary once I’ve finished interviewing. Just get lost in making it as good as I possibly can. It’s been difficult to do since I have to keep interviewing. I get a break to do a sort of layout, but that’s it. I only managed to get Pepper’s done because it was just...pressing. It just poured out once I finished her interview.”

“Chaos is a good word for it,” Carol comments with a little smile.

“It’s not bad!” You clarify, a bit over eagerly. “I’m just not used to it.”

“None of us are used to it,” Mantis says wisely, hands resting so demurely on her lap as her smile soothes your nerves back down. “We are simply glad to be all together.”

“Without bloodshed,” Carol’s mouth downturns in a sort of comical way. “Mostly without bloodshed.”

“Which I think is appreciated at every family gathering.”

“Yes!” Mantis agrees with enthusiasm.

“Want me to get the murder sisters?”

“Nah. I’ll finish up the interviews tomorrow. That way Pepper can coerce all of you into the group interview Friday and then, um, I’ll leave on Saturday.”

“Now I feel sad,” Mantis’ face falls with her words, reaching out to pat your hand accordingly. Her eyes become more intense as she sifts through your emotions. “We will all miss you too.” You nod numbly, smiling through the tears. That’s when you feel two sets of arms around you.

“I’ll kick Stark’s ass if you aren’t always welcome here. With us,” Carol pauses before squeezing you and Mantis tighter in her grip. “Although we could always take you away to space…”

“You would love space!” Mantis says excitedly, pulling away a little to grin at you.

“Maybe my next vacation should be space. Got any good beaches?”

“We could find you one!”

“Well then, of course, I can’t turn down a vacation in space!”

“Name the time and we’ll try to accommodate,” Carol confirms, laying her cheek against the top of your head.

“No leaving me alone with Quill. Unless you want me to hit him.”

“I say we give the odds to fur face - he’d looooove to see you knock Quill on his ass.” You chuckle, relaxing in their arms. “And I’d love the payout.”

“Carol, sweetie, you won’t be getting a payout. No one is gonna bet on Peter winning. Everyone on the ship can kick his ass.” Drax’s deep laughter booms through the room, drawing all your gazes. He puts another handful of gummy bears in his mouth.

“IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT IS TRUE!” He bellows before shoving his hand back into the bag.

“Why’d you come back?” Carol asks over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes. The woman spider says the writer is needed in her quarters.”

“All good things must end,” Mantis says with a happy sigh, all of you pulling away. Carol hands you your laptop and notebook with a bright smile.

“Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Thank you, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory reference.”

“I do what I can,” She says with a lighthearted shrug as you all head for the door of the study that Carol had found a few days ago. You take a deep breath as you walk through the door, mentally girding your loins at whatever Natasha has planned for you.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Your patching all of today’s interviews together, trying to make it as cohesive as possible - prepping it for your rewrites and tweaks - after the two hour session with Natasha.

She had wrangled you into a massage chair, tugging your shoes off as a woman who looks like someone Pepper negotiates with daily, comes into the room with a giant metal case. She hadn’t given you an option, she had simply painted your fingers and toes in a sparkly midnight blue, with your middle fingers painted metallic gold. Not something you’d choose for yourself but, honestly, you couldn’t remember a time in the last few years where your hands and feet had both felt so soft.

And while the executive-looking woman had worked, so had Natasha.

Natasha makes it seems as if you are just discussing your life, but it’s an interrogation. A pleasant one if any of the other stories you’ve heard about her are anything to go on… She slips in tidbits on Bucky, what Steve’s told her over the years, several of those little stories making your heart clench. Natasha always makes sure to follow those up with more cheerful or funny ones.

You weren’t born yesterday - you know what she’d been doing. Subtly (or not so) talking Bucky up.

Running your hands through your hair, you try to refocus on the words floating on your screen.

You need to sleep.

Three more interviews. Just three more.

Jesus, where did the time go?

After the three interviews tomorrow, Pepper will orchestrate the group interview with your questions and a handful of submitted ones she somehow got. Pepper and Tony’s methods are like the various branches of the military since the 90s - Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Then you’d be gone. And it wouldn’t matter how wonderful Bucky is...cause he didn’t make a move. And you’re just as lost in your head as he is, second-guessing most everything...so you can’t blame him for not moving forward when you are just as hesitant to get involved in something too good to be true.

There is a soft knock, causing you to pause. Dinner wrapped up almost three hours ago, so you weren’t sure who it could -

Bucky, your mind supplies unhelpfully. You tell that nosy bitch in your head to shut up when lo and behold, in walks Sgt. Barnes himself.

“I couldn’t sleep. Do you, uh, would you like company?” You scrub your hands down your face, save your work and click the laptop closed.

“Yeah, I can’t focus on the screen anymore without going cross-eyed. What did you have in mind?” You lean backward, palms flat and braced on the plush carpet, staring up at the man before you.

And, dear lord, what a man.

You barely stifle a giggle as Whatta Man lyrics start flashing through your thoughts. Bucky qualifies for most of those damn lyrics.

“Whatcha smiling so big for now, doll?”

“I’ll have Wanda explain it to you later.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because I don’t want to,” You pout, making him shake his head ruefully.

“Let’s get some sleep, then, since you won’t tell me your secret,” He holds out his hand, lips quirked in a crooked and easy smile. Taking his hand is easy, warm and safe, making you return his smile full force.

You move to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and shuffling under, only to be met in the middle with Bucky’s open arms.

“Tell me a secret,” His soft breath moves a few pieces of your hair before his fingers brush them back as you settle in his embrace with a soft sigh.

“My great-grandma’s step-sister was a nurse in WWII and so I grew up cuddling well-worn bears. A Captain America one,” Bucky groans good-naturedly. “A Dum Dum Dugan one. And a Bucky Barnes one too.”

“Not the whole unit?”

“Nah, her kids kept the others. My grandfather was the only boy out the bunch, so he was gifted Captain America’s bear. His sisters got Dum Dum and yours. And since I was the first grandbaby - and was the only one for about seven years - I got all three.”

“I can’t even believe any of those survived the war.”

“You and Steve did - God knows the bears were treated a whole lot better too,” Bucky snorts but tightens his arms around you. “Tell me a secret.”

“I don’t want you to leave the day after tomorrow. I want you to stay.” You pull away enough to look him in the eye, emotion making your throat tighten.

“What would happen if I did?”

“Dinner. Dancing. I could be convinced to throw in a couple of kisses,” You sigh over-dramatically, snuggling back in his arms.

“I don’t really know how to dance.”

“I could teach you.”

“For a couple kisses?”

“Holding you close is more than enough payment, doll.”

“Ah-ha! You say that now but once I’ve stepped on your toes for the tenth time, you might feel different.”

“Even my toes got the super serum. They’ll be fine.”

“Tell me a secret,” You try again.

“You scare me.”

“Bucky, I am the least scary person in this entire compound.”

“That’s what makes you the scariest. You’re the softest, most caring and gentle-hearted person...but feisty. Quiet but strong. All in this pretty and shy little package. All that adds up to a truly dangerous person.” You can hear him swallow, his heart beating quickly in his chest at his confession. “Tell me a secret.”

“I want to stay,” You whisper against his chest, a stray tear escaping from your eye to be quickly absorbed by the pillow.

“Then stay, doll,” Bucky whispers against your hair before he presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Stay with me.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

When you wake up, Bucky is gone.

You push down the unease at waking up to an empty bed before dragging your ass out of bed.

The shower is over quickly, blow-drying your hair lightly to help along the drying process before getting ready to plonk down in your customary spot when you pause, your stomach growling loudly.

“Okay then, breakfast before working today…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“I am Groot.”

“No, flowers ain’t gonna help.” Rocket heads into the kitchen after Scott, Groot following behind.

“I am Groot.”

“He’s got a point there.” Bruce and Rhodey stare at Thor. “Oh, right. He said a puppy might work…” Thor nods as he strokes his beard.

“Help what?” You ask, startling the trio as you enter the lab with Valkyrie, Peter, and Vision.

All five of their gazes drop or wander upward to the walls.

Uh-oh.

“What is it?”

“Well, see, uh - we got a call about a small arms deal by the Canadian border,” Rhodey answers, leaning his hip against the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, um, Steve, Clint, Tony, Natasha and, um,” Bruce stumbles over his words, looking at Thor then Rhodey.

“Bucky,” You supply as Bruce nods.

“Yes. They all went.”

“They left already?” They all hear the disappointment in your voice.

“I am Groot.” Groot holds out a piece of paper for you, smiling softly down at you.

“Thank you.” You unfold the paper, noticing Bucky’s neat handwriting.

     Babydoll -

           It’s just a quick mission. We’ll be back hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.

           I’m so sorry.

           Just - just promise me you’ll stay until I get back.

           Please?

           Promise I’ll be safe.

           And I’ll owe you [1] good night’s sleep, doll.

            -- Bucky

You fold the letter, tucking it into your pant’s pocket.

“You need a drink!” Valkyrie soothes happily, shooing you from the room with Thor and Rhodey following behind.

“It’s not even 9 am!” Scott shouts, following behind with an eye roll and head shake.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah. Hey, Bruce, where do we find a puppy around this planet? Is there a shop?”

“First off - I’m not sure about the puppy. Secondly - we do not shop at pet stores. They’re usually from puppy mills. Need to look at reputable places to adopt.”

“Good. Show us those then,” Bruce groans as Rocket jumps onto the table by his laptop.

“Fine.”

“I am Groot.”

“That’s true. He might need a friend to keep him company.”

“Dear lord…” Bruce huffs as he typed in local dog adoption places in New York before his face softens at all the little doggy faces that flash across the screen.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re going to leave. You aren’t going to come back. After this morning, you won’t want anything to do with them. Especially him. Bucky shoves the dark voice back deep down as he glares down at his plate.

“You look real nice in the mornings,” Quill says loudly around a mouthful of waffles, gesturing with his fork at your hair. Bucky bites back a growl, shoving the majority of his omelet into his mouth in one go.

“Thank you,” Your voice has an edge of curtness, but still polite...totally unnoticed by Quill.

“Of course, I’m just bein’ honest,” He continues, smiling widely at you before shooting you a wink, which makes Bucky snap his fork in half. He tosses it in the sink with a huff before grabbing another, fighting the urge to stab Star-Dumbass with the new fork.

“Listen, Peter, I’m not interested. Thank you for the compliments but right now I’m just not in the mood to deal with your whole ‘trying to get laid constantly’ bullshit.” Steve nearly chokes on the piece of sausage he’s eating at your words, T’Challa giving him a hard thump between his shoulders as he tries to hide a smile.

“Every time I think, well, I don’t think I can like her any more than I already do - she makes me. Go on, tell him how you really feel,” Sam’s warm chuckle seems to reassure you, Bucky watching your shoulders relax a little.

“Let’s hurry up everyone - the video photographer will be here within the hour.” Bucky nods at Pepper’s words, shoving his last forkful of eggs in his mouth and grabbing his shitty cup of coffee. Even though it was the fanciest coffee Tony could buy, it was crap compared to the coffee you’d been making him. You’d showed him how to work the machine but he knew it wouldn’t be the same.

He had talked himself out of sneaking into your room late Sunday evening. Of nuzzling an unheard apology against your shoulder before gathering you tightly in his arms, fully prepared to grovel come the morning.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t want him to grovel. When he had mentioned it in his mind, you had nearly punched him. He’d easily had kissed away the flash of anger, happy to soak up the ease he always felt in your presence.

Bucky shakes himself out of his dreams, willing himself not to think of the memory of your bare legs wrapped around his and your warmth as you two were pressed so tightly together.

Now you’re seated on the couch beside Shuri, plate balanced on the tops of your legs as you finish working your way through the huge pancake you have left, and giggling at a picture she’s showing you on her phone with Clint leaning over your shoulder to peer down at it too.

Pepper and Happy had wrangled you into staying an extra two days since the mission ran over, and she still wanted desperately to give you the video interview and glamor shots of all of them for your going away present.

Which Bucky wasn’t going to think about.

“Hey.” Bucky looks startled for a second before he nods at Shuri. “Do you want what’s left? I can’t finish it.” Bucky shakes his head at the question, but nerves kept him from really enjoying his breakfast. He watches as you lean back on your hands, the mauve shirt your wearing riding up just a bit above where your black leggings sat. Teasing him with the tiniest peek of skin.

He commits the image to memory, knowing you’ll be trying to leave on the jet when this interview concludes… He also knows that Tony, Steve, and the others will all convince you to stay for lunch at the very least. He knows you’ll accept - you’re too sweet to deny such a request. His sweet, smartass, torturous babydoll.

“Okay, the stylists are here! Remember to dress nice but not gala event/black tie nice!” Pepper barks as she takes the plate away from Rhodey, shooing him towards the small army of men and women standing just inside the living area as he sighs heavily. Bucky isn’t the only one to notice you slip Rhodey a piece of toast with jam, nodding towards were the trays of mimosas were on the counter with a big smile.

‘I love you, kid,’ Rhodey mouths, grabbing a flute of spiked orange juice and taking a healthy bite of toast as his stylist guides him from the room.

When the gentleman assigned to him came to get him, Bucky silently trailing after him, not noticing the sad, longing gaze you shoot him as you watch him leave.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Lunch is a lot jollier than they all feel, trying to send you out on a high note.

It’s lighthearted and full of laughter as you all drag out this time as much as possible, making you look around and finally take the time to truly appreciate the expensive wallpaper of this room, the actually silver silverware that glimmered dimly in the natural light - as if it doesn’t want to draw attention to its elevated status.

Your gaze has circled the room innumerable times since sitting down, each time slower than the last, soaking in every minute detail of the group of people around you.

Thirty wonderful beings sit around the long, long table around you - beings who had opened their lives, their pasts, and their homes to you in the past two weeks. They’d given you nicknames, built little inside jokes with you, and (mostly) given you their trust; knowing you aren’t going to use the information given against them.

You’ve caught Bucky’s gaze twice so far with your roaming looks, with each time more heart-wrenching than the last. You have so much you want to say and he seems to be trying to communicate the same to you with those storm blue eyes pouring out every emotion from the last two and a half weeks in their depths.

And you’re trying not to bawl from those drowning blue eyes fastened resolutely to you.

So you keep talking. And nodding along. And laughing...because, if you don’t, you don’t know what you’ll do. Yes, you do, you’ll break. Thanks, inner monologue!

You lean over the arm, showing Peter a TikTok video of a girl howling and her cat mimicking her, Shuri hanging over Peter’s shoulder to watch it before you all let out a little howl as it replays. Gamora is on your left side, Carol beside her, as Gamora whispers something from the interview - making all three of you burst out laughing.

You think about your purse, already settled on the jet, with your messy notebook carefully placed inside...basic stats were long forgotten in all the wonderful personal things you’ve discovered along the way. How Drax has a thing for gummy bears and chocolate pop-tarts. How Nebula tried to shoot Clint’s bow and almost broke it by pulling it back too hard. Pepper keeping chili chocolate bars in her desk drawer for a long day in the office. Peter talking to DUM-E just like Tony does, the three of them lost in stuttered conversations late at night. Rocket napping cuddled up under Groot’s arm in the garden.

“We’ll miss you,” Tony hides behind a tight smile after he draws everyone’s attention with his words. “And I’ve loved the emotion.” You can’t fight back the tears anymore, your lip quivering as you nod, nails digging into your palm to stave off the sobs.

“Big picture,” You affirm with a watery smile.

“Big picture,” Tony agrees as he gives you the most heartbreaking smile. By now, there was no more Iron Man between you...just Tony Stark doing his best by his adopted family.

“Boss, the jet has begun its standby. Ready for Miss Y/N.” The only sounds after that are soft shuffles as everyone seems to shift and tense at the AI’s words, reality settling even more harshly around the room.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” He seems to whisper, but it comes out louder because of the silence the room is ensconced in. “At least we added a few more AFI 100 Greatest titles to your list. Got you some new duds,” Tony stands up and everyone follows suit. “Got you a nifty new hair cut,” You can hear some chuckles behind you as you all head out of the mess hall. “Anything you’d like to let me know before you go, kiddo?”

You nearly run into Rhodey’s back as he stops just inside the hanger, dreading 30 goodbyes.

“Invite Wong and Strange over more often - I know, I know,” You hold up a hand in a stop sign. “Even if they decline. Gamora needs more fruit to tempt Nebula with to be less stabby on long missions and Nebula now, surprisingly, loves those chocolate-covered blueberries, so those as well. Gamora also needs a few more t-shirts since she loved the one I gave her from the store you have a tab at - the black, extra soft t-shirt one? Carol won’t admit it, but she needs to be asked to visit here more too. I know she’s busy, you all are, but asking is sometimes just as important as the actual visiting.”

“FRIDAY and I are making a list, don’t worry. Continue.”

“Steve and Bucky deserve a dog. There are more than enough people to help take care of it - take the stick out a little on the dog matter. Please. Make Clint drink something not caffeinated. And don’t make Natasha be the one to make Clint do it. Add a little salt lick or something out in the clearing for the deer. Don’t let Shuri attempt to hijack Redwing when she leaves, it’ll upset Sam. Make Steve eat a few Oreos. I don’t care how, but I would enjoy the video evidence. Go easier on Peter when needed, he’d trying to do his best and live up to you. T’Challa needs to let loose some too, go hang out in a giant donut together. Okoye needs some Starbucks delivered sometimes - the sweeter, the better. Have family-style dinners more often. Invite everyone, even if they can’t come. And get some fucking sleep, Tony.”

“Is that all?”

“Have Scott do your Christmas lights at the Tower. I’ll come ‘cause I know it’ll be hilarious and beautiful. Let them babysit Morgan more - she’s in the safest hands. Put a damn cover or grate or something over your incinerator pit!”

“Now, see, little miss writer, usually it does, per law. It had been emptied into the fields and hauled off to the vineyard and it hadn’t been put back before dark. Check that one off your mile-long list.”

“Just keep doing what you all are doing. And thank you, thank you all for everything you’ve done.” You fight back tears again, huffing out a deep breath, focusing on Tony before you. “And Bucky and Steve deserve a dog. Oh, and tell DUM-E I’ll write to him.”

“Noted,” Tony snorts at the DUM-E comment before grumbling, reaching forward to pull you quickly and tightly against his chest. “See you later, sweetness. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Pepper steps in when Tony steps away, inhaling a shaky breath as you wrap your arms around the red-head.

Wanda is next, kissing one cheek and then another before hugging you tighter than you were hugging her.

“Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază.”

“Little kisses to you too, Y/N. Take care.”

T’Challa wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you gently before Shuri throws her arms around you as well.

“Say hi to Nakia and your mother for me, please.”

“Of course,” T’Challa agrees immediately before stepping away to reveal Sam, holding up a crisp $20 bill.

“You were right…” Sam grins out as you pocket the money before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him to you.

“I usually am,” You reply with some cockiness, pulling away slightly before you feel his lips against your cheek.

“Stay outta trouble.”

“I was just about to say that to you!” You chuckle out before you feel Peter’s tight embrace nearly smothering you. But, you know, in a good way. “I’ll miss you too, Peter. Next time I’m here we need to go have one of those Spider-Man ice creams.”

“And I can introduce you to Aunt May.” He pulls away with a bright smile, making you cup his face.

“I’d love that, Peter.”

Scott steps up next. “Ya know, in prison, we got hit by the biggest, meanest guy as a goodbye. All in good spirits, of course.”

“Of course,” You agree with a serious nod. “But don’t worry, I think the girls like me too much to hit me.”

“Oooh. I see how it is. Praise my lighting skills and - well, I mean, you aren’t wrong.” A wiggle of your eyebrows makes him shake his head before hugging you tightly, giving your back a few hard pats before squeezing you.

“I just told Sam that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He mutters before he delivers another squeeze, backing out of the way for Gamora.

“I know a couple of beaches...you finish up with these articles and barring anything stupid from that one,” She gestures her head to Quill who shoots you two an unconvincing ‘Who Me?’ look, rolling her eyes before continuing. “We’ll come kidnap you for a break.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll bring some fruit and some junk food.”

“Deal!” Drax bellows out behind Gamora, picking you up from the ground as he squeezes you before promptly putting you down. “Goodbye, author.”

“Goodbye, destroyer,” You boop his nose before Steve clears his throat behind him.

“Don’t be a stranger, beautiful.” You feel small in his embrace, digging your nails into his shoulders to bury your face against his chest, letting a couple of tears fall against his dark blue shirt before he kisses the top of your head and let’s go.

Wong is next, giving you a brief hug before stepping back and giving you a small bow, which you return with a smile.

Clint pops up, gathering your hands in his.

“Our time together has been so special to me,” You roll your eyes playfully. “Thank you for not being one of those rabid journalists and for always thinking of me in black thong.”

“It’s an image I will always treasure, Clint. And I’ve tried to be as unrabid as possible for you.”

“Marry me already.”

“Pencil me in.”

“Will do, calendar girl,” He concludes with a wink, handing you off to Hope, who runs a hand over your hair before sliding her hand down your arm and pulls you into a tight embrace. She doesn’t say anything - much like Pepper - just holds you in her arms.

Rhodey is next, kissing your forehead before tucking you into a hug.

“Thanks for everything. I’ll let the Roomba know you think of him too,” You sputter out a laugh, slightly muffled against his shoulder.

“I’ll think of him often. Maybe you if I have the time.”

“That’s appreciated, you little shit.”

“Thanks, Colonel. I try.” Rhodey scoffs, gently pushing you towards Quill with a stern look shot at the outlaw.

“I wish we’d had more time together,” Quill begins, his face soft and open, as he shakes your hand. “I see now you just wanted to get to know me. Un-romantically.”

“What tipped you off?” He moves forward for a quick hug.

“I love a smart-ass though.”

“If your hand so much as moves a millimeter down Quill…”

“Several people would attempt to break my hand.”

“Starting with me,” You chuckle as he squeezes your right shoulder, dropping it with a small grin to move aside for Vision.

“I shall miss you and all your questions.”

“I’ll email you some, just so you don’t get too sad.”

“I would like that.”

“Take care, Vision.”

“You too.” Happy is next, straightening his suit jacket as he steps forward, a soft smile breaking on his face just for you.

“Kid, you’ve been interesting.”

“I’m glad you’ve had time to come to terms with my boring nature, Hap.”

“Next time you’re here, I’ll buy you a churro,” You sniffle lightly against his jacket as he hugs you.

“Take care of them,” You beg, unashamed.

“Always.”

Bruce is fidgeting with something in his hand before presenting it, a little black box.

“Open it.” He gestures to the box, Rocket standing beside him with his arms crossed. Nestled in the box is a half glass sphere with a silver base, about the size of your palm as you cradle it in your hand.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, we used the piece DUM-E gave to you to help build it.”

“And this is for our language lessons and my interrogations?”

“I am Groot.”

“I love it! Thank you all so much.” You carefully hold it out for Rocket, who flips it upside down and shows you what to push.

“Red means we aren’t on the ship. Black means we’re busy, ya know, being Guardians or stealing,”

“Rocket!” Gamora hisses, frowning at him.

“And blue,” Rocket continues, completely unperturbed. “Means you’re good to pester us.” You kneel in front of Rocket.

“Bring it in, you yutz.” He rolls his eyes but complies, patting your sides in return.

“I am Groot!” He says loudly as he wraps his arms around the two of you, cradling you both against his chest.

“I am Groot,” You repeat, making Rocket chuckle.

‘That was completely correct, kid. Good job.” Groot set you down, Rocket climbing up onto his shoulder as Groot gives you a little pink flower and a smile.

“Thank you, Bruce,” You lean forward and kiss his cheek before his arms wrap around you.

“Don’t be a stranger. You can call us with that too. The yellow color will connect you to the lab - whichever one we’re in,” Bruce hugging you lightly then nodding.

“Okay,” You manage, fighting back another wave of tears.

“Goodbye, little writer,” Strange gives you a tight smile before he gives a quick hug, moving to make room for Mantis.

“I will make sure to call you. To make sure you take a break from the rest of the writing,” She beams at you before you two embrace. She steps away and Nebula is behind her, holding out her hand. As you give it a firm shake, she yanks you forward for a stiff hug and a rough pat on the back.

“I will tell the fox to send your calls to me about the fruit,” You hold up a finger with a bright smile, withdrawing a small bag of chocolate-covered blueberries.

“For you,” You lean in, “I also put some chocolate-covered espresso beans and dried mango slices in that compartment you showed me on the ship by Gamora’s room.” Her serious gaze shifts from your face to the blueberries and then gives a sharp nod at your whispered words.

“As you should,” She jokes, face so serious if you hadn’t spent most of two days with her, you might have missed it - which just makes you smile all the wider.

Okoye hugs you after Nebula moves out of the way, bag tucked securely in her grip as Drax and Rocket peer down at her goodies.

“Remember me and Olenna.”

“Wakandan sunsets are on my bucket list now.”

“And you will see it. Uxolo lube nawe, sihlobo.” [Peace be with you, friend.]

“Did you just call me a friend? Cause that’s the only word I semi-recognized…” She presses her forehead against yours.

“Yes, friend. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Okoye. Yomelela ngonaphakade.” [Strong forever.] She pulls away with a chuckle. “Hey - I tried! Was it wrong?”

“No,” Shuri says from behind you, “It was good.”

“Princess approved!” You laugh out as Okoye hugs you tightly.

Carol is next, her arms spread wide for you to walk into. “Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Give me a smile.”

“Let that sunshine show!” Carol skips a few lines as her thumbs come up to wipe away the few tears that have managed to slip out unbidden. But you do as she asks and smile through it all.

“Stop making her cry!” Natasha admonishes, tapping on Carol’s shoulders to cut in. She raises an eyebrow before pulling you close. “I’m gonna miss you,” She says this part loud enough for everyone to hear, leaning in closer to whisper the next part - so low even the super-soldiers wouldn’t be able to hear. You hoped. “You and Barnes are gonna be the cutest couple. Name your firstborn after me.”

“I already promised Valkyrie that honor,” You whisper back, watching her pull away and only catching the end of her eye roll.

“You’re always welcome here for interrogation and nail painting.”

“My feet are still so soft - it’s amazing!” Natasha shrugs.

“I know.” Natasha tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and goes behind you to join the others.

“My little rose,” Thor begins, his hug tight and bear-like, lifting you from the ground. “I am sad to see you go. Sad that we did not get to know each other better.” You shake your head at the drop in his tone.

“I guess Brunhilde mentioned her offer to you.”

“Oh, yes,” He confirms with a wide-cheeked grin.

“Both of you are little shits.”

“Oh, yes,” He agrees, the smile never leaving his handsome face, blue eyes full of mirth. You brace your hands on his forearms, kissing his bearded cheek.

“I’m going to miss you, warrior Pikachu of Point Break.” He groans before hugging you again, this one leaving your feet planted on the floor.

“My turn!” Valkyrie shoos Thor, kissing one cheek and then the other before cupping your face in her hands. “My offer stands,” And she fucking winks at you before brushing her lips gently over yours. Your fingers brush over your lips afterward, looking at her with eyes as big as saucers. Her laughter echoes in your ears as she hugs you, her grip is tight around you but comforting.

“You are the weirdest juxtaposition...but I’ll keep your offer in mind. Far in the back of my mind, but there.”

“Good! Come visit New Asgard, I’ll give you a grand tour.”

“Okay, okay - calm down, sister!” Tony shouts as Valkyrie winks again, leaving Bucky standing before you. Of course, he had to be the last…

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep the same without you, doll.”

“Ditto, Sarge. No sugar cubes?” He rubs the back of his neck before dropping his hand, biting his bottom lip.

“Nah, you’re sweet enough,” You move forward, nearly closing the space between the two of you.

“My soft, handsome, thoughtful, smart dumbass…” Bucky closes the rest of the space between you, metal fingers sliding around to the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna miss you so damn much, babydoll,” He whispers against your lips, his flesh hand cupping your cheek. His lips press oh so innocently against yours, a tightness in your chest as you sink your fingers into his hair and press his lips closer, feeling his smile at the action. When he pulls away, he links his flesh fingers with yours and throws the vibranium one around your shoulder. Pulling you as close as possible, he kisses your forehead and then the top of your head when you drop your forehead against his shoulder. “Safe travels.” He whispers before stepping away with a nod, hearing your sniffles as you hurriedly climb aboard the jet.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

2 WEEKS LATER

“What do you mean the Avengers jet is here for me?” You ask the person on the phone for what seems like the nineteenth time but is probably only the third. “I just don’t understand...aren’t they in Siberia or something?” Amelina looks at you quizzically as she comes into the tiny office space you share with two giant cups of iced coffee, slipping into your desk chair as she listens in. Nosy.

“No - I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t understand why? It’s been two weeks, we’ve only posted one interview after I left. Carol’s will be posted tonight at 7 pm EST… I just-just don’t understand WHY?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yes, I can be ready within the hour. Thank you.”

“Oooh - they want you back so soon! Well, I bet a certain blue-eyed soldier at least…”

“Yeah. Whatever. He hasn’t texted, called, emailed, hologrammed, carrier pigeon-ed...nada. The whole thing between us is the equivalent of Sandy and Danny at the beach. Summer lovin’. And now it’s fall.” You take the lighter colored ice coffee with the caramel drizzle, taking a hearty sip as you rest your rear against your desk edge. “And now I gotta go pack for whatever the heck this is. Jesus... I swear I cried the whole way home.”

“And the day after. And while you were proof-reading Thor’s interview before posting it.” Amelina ticks her fingers off as she goes. Ass. “While we were going over Carol’s. When someone sent an email about Pepper’s. When you were picking out pictures to go along with the stories...I don’t see how you have any tears left at all. You’re just so damn sensitive.”

“I can’t believe you’re still so blase about my anguish. What a friend you are!”

Amelina tosses her long black hair over her shoulder with an eye roll. “Listen,” She peers down at her watch. “You’ve got forty-five minutes left to get ready!” The traitor sing-songs with a bright smile.

You return her bright smile.

“Guess that means you’re holding down the fort again! All by your lonesome!” You chuckle before wrapping your lips around the straw once more, bending over to pick up your purse from under your desk. “Hasta la vista!”

“You’re a little shit, do you know that?!”

“It’s been mentioned!” You call over your shoulder, heels clicking down the hall with your thoughts running a million miles at the possibilities of what this means.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

When the jet lands at the compound, Bucky is a ball of nerves.

He’s been carefully planning since you left and it’s taken this long to muster up the damn courage to execute it.

The compound was mostly empty - operating with a skeleton crew - so Bucky didn’t feel as foolish standing in the hanger bay for the last couple hours letting his nerves suffocate him.

And when you step off the jet, it takes his breath away. God, you’re gorgeous.

He waits until you’re halfway across the hanger before stepping from his spot, smiling through the butterflies and moths fluttering chaotically in his belly. “Hey, doll.” Dear God, your eyes widening and the little gasp that accompanies it made his chest tighten.

“Your hair, Bucky! I love it!” Bucky runs his vibranium fingers through his newly shorn locks, neck and cheeks flushing under your scrutiny. “Is this - is this your calendar outfit?” He watched you take in his outfit. “God, you look even better than I imagined!”

“Th-thank you, gorgeous.” Bucky gestures you towards the door, following a little too closely behind.

“How far do I go?”

“All the way to the living room, please.”

“Oh, Bucky.” You were born to break him, he was sure of it. How you said his name - fuck, he was a goner. Bucky moves so his chest is nearly brushing against your back, inhaling the scent of your perfume like he’d been itching for it.

“I owe you a couple of dates. Some dancing. And a few good night’s sleep.”

“Is this how you treat all the girls you like? Show them some woodland creatures, make them cookies, reel them in with those big blue eyes, toss them to what you hope is safety, run off to go keep civilians safe, and then make a romantic dinner with all the trappings?”

“No. Most women will look at me but once they recognize who I am, they aren’t very interested anymore. And we both know - you aren’t most women. Plus I’m not interested in picking up any other women. Just my babydoll.” You turn to face him with those kissable lips pursed slightly.

“You know, Sergeant, speaking of picking up - I think I should pick you up and toss you into the trash bin, just to be fair.” You’re grinning when you say it, which lightens all the flutters currently in his belly and makes him automatically smile back.

“I don’t think you could pick me up, doll,” He chuckles out, gesturing towards the plush red upholstered chair closest to you both while he lets you lead.

“You don’t think I can pick you up?” Her eyebrow arch high as he shakes his head ‘no’ as he pulls out the chair and waits for you to sit before taking his own across the little wooden table. “Is that a dead rabbit in your mouth? ‘Cause you’re a fox.” His forehead furrows as he pours you both some wine.

“What - what are you doing?” He chuckles out, his eyes watching yours dance with mirth.

“Obviously I’m trying to pick you up, Sergeant,” You fucking wink at him when you finish saying that before leaning a little towards him, reaching for the wine glass. “Do you need more convincing?”

“Bring it, beautiful.”

“Was your dad a boxer? Because, baby, you’re a knockout.” Bucky’s heart stutters when she calls him baby, especially the way you say it, with your eyes twinkling but there is a hint of uncertainty there...one he needs to chase away.

“Can I follow you home? My ma told me to follow my dreams,” Bucky purrs out, watching her smile widen before her head tilts just so.

“Bucky - what is this?”

“Well, so far I got dating, dancing, sleeping...Hell - I’ll throw in some kisses too.” Bucky reaches across the small table, flesh palm face-up, anxiety riddling his thoughts now. “I wanna date you. I wanna cook with you. I want you to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I see in the morning. I want to hear you singing and watch you stick your tongue out when you concentrate on finding the right word or the right angle for your pictures. I’ll even pretend you don’t have ice cold feet in bed.” Your fingers tangling with his is pure magic even Dr. Strange couldn’t conjure.

“Well, are you going to come over here and kiss me or leave me hanging?”

Bucky nearly topples the chair he was just sitting in, in his haste to get around the table. His metal fingers feel cool against the warmth of your skin, his thumb stroking along your jawline as he leans in slowly, gently bumping his nose against yours before pressing his lips against yours softly. So softly. When you press against his lips a little more firmly, he takes it to mean more. So he gives it to you - his tongue gently pressing it against the seam of your lips, the both of you giving a little sigh as you open for him. God, you taste amazing. His other hand cups the back of your head, leaving you nowhere to go while he plunders your sweet mouth. Not that either of you has plans to go anywhere now. He can taste the tang of the wine and something he bets is distinctly you as your tongues meet, a soft groan escaping him at the reality that hits him just then. You’re his girl now. You press a hand gently to his chest and he reluctantly pulls away but rests his forehead against yours since he can’t bear not to be touching you right now.

“Stay with me,” Bucky whispers, barely pulling his face away from yours.

“You’re pretty good at convincing.”

“I made cookies.” He offers with a smirk.

“You think I am so easy?”

“I’m that easy for you.”

“Well, then...that’s perfectly okay. Sold, Mr. Barnes.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @transcendent-heroes @jotink78

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

===== THE END! THANKS FOR READING MY FIRST LITTLE SERIES!! =====

[onomatophia]

My Heart’s Been Borrowed and Yours Has Been Blue

Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke Pairing: SasuSaku

Summary: “Hey, do you want to get married?” Sasuke asks casually as if they’re out walking leisurely in a park instead of being in the middle of a fight with rogue ninjas. (Blank period SS, fluff)

—

“Hey, do you want to get married?” Sasuke asks casually as if they’re out walking leisurely in a park and not in the middle of a fight with rogue ninjas.

And okay, that’s not exactly how he wanted to propose to the love of his life. Sasuke may suck at this romance thing but he knows well enough that proposing in the middle of a battle while sounding nonchalant about it isn’t exactly one for the books. 

In his defense, he did spend a lot of time thinking and planning how to propose months before this. It’s just that today, fighting with Sakura, her having his back and always making sure he’s not severely injured and simultaneously taking down their enemies with just a single punch to the ground just left him in absolute awe. Suddenly, he was hit by this sudden urge of wanting to marry her and keep fighting enemies with her until they grow old that his throat just closed in on him and the words stumbled out of his mouth. How he kept calm through it all, was a mystery to him as well. 

Sakura throws a punch effortlessly at an enemy running toward her before replying, “I don’t think now is exactly the best time for that, Sasuke-kun.”

It’s been a year since they left Konoha and started to travel around Fire Country. The past year was spent in bliss, learning each other and falling in love all over again. Getting acquainted with each other didn’t really take that much time because of the history they shared and before they knew it, they’ve already familiarized themselves with the other like the back of their hand. It certainly wasn’t long before they stopped the pretence of having to sleep in separate rooms or tents and decided that sleeping together was inevitable and long overdue.

They complement each other so well that they only have to share one look and they’d immediately understand what the other one is thinking. Sasuke thinks that if he had taken Sakura with him in his quest for revenge against Itachi years ago, maybe he would’ve accomplished things sooner. 

If Sasuke were a better man, he would wax poetic right there and then of how he couldn’t live without her, how she’s the sunshine of his life, how he’s never loved anyone as he much as he loves her, and how he probably wouldn’t bear it if he ever loses her. Even after having moved on from his past and having rid of his lust for vengeance, he is still not well equipped to handle these things called ‘emotions’. 

And because he’s Sasuke and he’s an idiot, he just points to a nearby establishment with an ad that says “50% OFF PROMO FOR NEWLYWEDS!” written in pink ink and inside a heart shaped wreath. “We should take advantage of that promo,” he says as he throws a couple of shuriken to their enemies jumping out from the trees where they were hiding. 

Sakura aims another kick at the ninja running toward her before she turns to him, mouth pressed in thin line. “You’re saying you want to get married just so you could enjoy a luxurious night in an inn?” 

He just shrugs, “That and the tax benefits, I guess.” His mouth twitches as fights off the urge to smile.

Sakura just rolls her eyes at him and blows the bangs off her face. For someone who’s fighting a dozen or so ninjas in the past hour, she looks absolutely pristine as if she just started her day and Sasuke might just pass out because she’s so pretty it should be illegal. 

“Okay,” she shouts as she jumps away, dodging the series of kunai thrown at her by their opponents.

“Okay?” Sasuke blinks. 

“Eh, I suppose you’re not bad in the eyes. And I could do with your fortune inheritance, I guess.” Sakura retorts to which Sasuke snorts. “We better finish off these thugs as soon as possible so we can still make it to the government office in this town then.”

—

By the time they reached the town hall, it is almost sun down. They both look disheveled with their clothes all wrinkled and smudged with dust, not exactly the perfect attire for a wedding. The offices are about to close and night establishments are starting to open.

The civil servants are just about to leave and so Sakura had to resort to deception just so the town official would officiate their ceremony.

“Please, I beg you. I only have a few weeks left to live and I don’t want to waste any more time that I have left not being married to this man,” Sakura chokes out, letting the tears flow down her face. And to add to the dramatics, she then buries her face in her palms and wails her lungs off. 

Sasuke had to suppress the urge to laugh as he sees panic-stricken face of the town official. 

The man, Zenitsu-san, raises his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. Just stop crying. I will marry you both right here, right now.” He then walks back to his office while grumbling not-so-discreetly, “Goddamnit, I hate this job.”

Sakura’s face immediately breaks out with a grin when she glances at Sasuke and starts pulling him by the hand to follow the town official, her excitement evident with every skip in her steps. Sasuke had to hide his smile because he just knows how dopey he looks right now and he can’t have Sakura seeing that because he’s got a reputation to maintain.

However, he stops her right before they enter the office when he is suddenly reminded of Naruto’s wedding. He puts his hands on top of her shoulders while Sakura stares at him, confusion written all over her face. “Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke takes a deep breath, “Are you sure you want to do this? We could go back to Konoha, you know. Have our wedding as grand as Naruto’s if you want. I want you to be with your family and everyone important to you on our wedding day and-”

Sakura cuts him off with a kiss before he could finish what he was saying. “Sasuke-kun. You’re my family and the most important person in my life.” She then smiles at him, a smile reserved only for him, and places her hands above his. “Whether it be in sewer or in a dump site, I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

Sasuke really, really, really loves this woman. He must’ve done something great in his past life to deserve her, to have someone like her love him unconditionally after all the stupid shit he pulled.

He was about to lean in and kiss her when he was interrupted by a loud groan coming from inside the office.

“Really? Really? You haven’t even signed any marriage application forms and you’re already kissing the bride? God, get your asses in here and fill up this forms so I could go home already. Ugh.” Zenitsu-san whines. 

— — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — —

                            Certificate of Marriage

This certifies that Haruno Sakura and Uchiha Sasuke                             were united in marriage

             on the 30th day of July in the year 1980

— — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — —

Sakura held up their marriage certificate in one hand as her other hand is currently occupied holding Sasuke’s hand while they walk to the direction of the inn they saw earlier.

“That was surprisingly quick,” Sasuke comments.

Sakura nods then proceeds to roll up their marriage certificate. “Well, it is way past his work time so he was rushing us. And apparently eloping is the trend nowadays, according to the grandmas I gossiped with around town. So the government had to be efficient as more and more couples are doing this.”

After filling up some marriage application forms and presenting their identification cards and birth certificates, the town official proceeded to marry them in his office with his secretary and a janitor as their witnesses. In just a half hour or so, Sasuke finally attained the greatest achievement of his life; marrying Sakura Haruno.

He is now a husband. He can now refer to Sakura as his wife. Holy shit.

“Ah finally, we’re here!” Sakura exclaims and enters the inn with Sasuke in tow. Sakura then brandishes their wedding certificate to the woman in the reception area. “We want to avail that 50% promo now.”

The woman smiles at them and hands out a pamphlet to Sakura. “Good thing you were able to avail our promo as we only have it until today.”

It was then that Sasuke saw the banner from their earlier fight, “50% OFF PROMO FOR NEWLY WEDS! UNTIL JULY 30 ONLY! (Includes a romantic dinner, spa, mud baths and other activities!)”

Sasuke narrows his eyes at Sakura, “Is this why you are adamant that we get married today?”

His wife just smiles cheekily at him, “What? You’re the one who suggested this in the first place, old man.”

“Can we get the key to our room now?” Sasuke asks the receptionist and practically hauls Sakura in his shoulder. He’ll show her who she’s calling an old man. 

— 

Sakura practically melts into the pillows and the blanket after Sasuke gently laid her down the bed who promptly joined her.

“I thought I’d be getting some action after all that,” Sakura says.

Sasuke gathers her into his arms and buries his face in the crook of her neck, “Mmmm so tired.”

Sakura pats his head and laughs, “Ah the ripe old age of 22, where our bones creak and our backs ache.”

They stay like that for a while, reveling in each other’s presence and feeling content with everything when Sasuke suddenly raises his head as if he remembered something.

“I forgot,” he says as he fumbles in the pocket of his pants.

Sakura just frowns at him and then gasps when Sasuke pulled out a small black velvet box from his pants. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s inside that box.

Sasuke opens the box to reveal a simple ring with a gold band and a small emerald diamond in the middle. Simple and subtle, like their love for each other. He takes it out of the box and gathers Sakura’s hand. “Can I?” 

Sakura nods, tears welling from the corners of her eyes.

“Sakura Haruno, is it okay if you spend the rest of your life with me?” he asks quietly while slipping the ring on her finger.

Sakura just laughs as the tears fall from her eyes, this time they were real. She caresses Sasuke’s face and looks at him fondly, “I can’t believe you would propose just after we got married.”

Sasuke wipes the tears from her face and hugs her once again, “Just covering my bases, is all.” He then turns off the lamp next to their bed and settles them both in a more comfortable position. He yawns, “Good night, wife.”

Sakura sighs contentedly and burrows her face in Sasuke’s chest. “Good night, husband.”

—

Notes: Anyway, I have no idea how civil weddings work. I’m just basing things from the tv shows i’ve watched lol. And I don’t know Sasuke and Sakura’s exact wedding date so I just put on the first date I could think of which was Harry Potter’s birthday haha.

[cryptidhero]

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

diigo sits nervously in the small restaurant, mask removed and hair free to fall in his face as he looks at the menu. he's glancing at the prices, but the hawk before him is giving him that stern "get what you want" look and he ducks his head a little more. oof-- busted. okay, okay. he sighs, clearly a sign of defeat before settling on some sushi. he hasn't had that here lately and it's a nice change of pace from the constant red meat he devours. would three orders seem like too much? no, he had waved the white flag for his comrade and when the nice waitress came back, he held on his promise and ordered three helpings of the sampler platter. she blinked, looking between the two of them before shrugging and making a comment about "putting some meat on those bones!" ugh, he hope he didn't roll his eyes too hard.

"not the first time ive heard that jab... won't be the last."

he grouses, nose wrinkling as he lifts his mug of warm tea. hawks chuckles, wings ruffling before there's a noise on the television in the corner. they both turn, the bright red "breaking news" banner catching their attentions. that's when there's a flash of a video: someone recording with their phone and diigo wished they would stay the fuck still. squinting, they zoom in before the back of a truck door is all but fucking melted before being kicked outwards and there in all his glory is that blue-flamed villain, tongue running over his bottom teeth as he exhales steam.

"hawks?"

the wendigo pauses, glancing at his friend before noticing how stiff and still he's gotten. those wings of his aren't twitching and fluffing like they normally do. instead they're froze in place and the blonde has his attention focused solely on the image of the dark haired flame miser. oh-- it's clear that those two knew each other? maybe? he's never seen hawks this tore up; he's pale and his lips are in a thin line but a small fang is biting at his bottom lip. those golden eyes are glassy, almost unfocused and his chest is rising and falling as if he can't get air. oh -- oh that's a panic attack.

"k-keigo."

he muses softly, deep voice gentle as he tries to talk to the second ranking hero. his hand is white knuckled and gripping the edge of the table with every intent of breaking off the material if he wasn't careful. the taller male stands carefully, walking to his side before kneeling down at his side. he's not entirely too sure what to do in these situations; he's never seen the young hero so tore out of frame. he won't judge him though-- whether the memory was a good one or a bad one, he carefully puts a blackened hand over his trembling hand before coaxing it to let go of the tablecloth and release the tables edge from his grip.

" hey. hey its okay..."

he purrs quietly, left hand holding the successfully retracted hand while the other slips up to his cheek, gently urging him to look down at the cryptid instead of the television. it takes a bit, but the blonde finally does look at him, a confused look coming over his face as he blinks; it's almost as if he was coming back into his own body. wings finally flutter, puffing out in an attempt to scare off anyone who came close before thick lashes blink rapidly. diigo gives a sympathetic look to the other hero, thumb gently stroking over a high cheekbone.

"welcome back there, birdbrain... thought i lost ya for a minute."

[jean-and-ali-liveblogs]

Ali, I know it's not comfortable to talk about homophobia, so you don't have to, but I was wondering if there was a time when you were ever worried to say to your family or to friends like jean that you are a lesbian? do you think things are better in Poland for LGBT than in countries like America?

(You asked easy question and I went of and just rambled about stuff, sorry. You can kinda skip the start of it and start reading from “I did go to one Pride parade once“ to get a feeling for how it feels in Poland)

Ali: I can’t really talk about Poland overall,  because I had a lot of luck, I think. I already talked about that in one post during CYM liveblog 

https://jean-and-ali-liveblogs.tumblr.com/post/182872527674/ali-ughgh-but-you-could-maybe-just-maybe-just

So, adding to that, I don’t really want to say “Poland is great for LGBT!”, because I can’t really know for everybody. I was lucky enough to find myself in environment that was supporting of me, but I am sure there are people who didn’t have that luck, and I don’t want to predend there aren’t people who suffered, that just seems ignorant and offensive. In the end I think it’s a mixed bag. There will be always people who won’t care what or who you are, there will be always people who will hate you for who you are. 

As to Jean, uh, what went down with him many many years ago was a bit complicated. The way he found out I am gay, well, it was a long and complicated and messed up story in which everybody involved got hurt. We were 14yo and we didn’t know what we were doing and I, ugh, I kinda cheated on him with a girl. And I am kinda putting myself in a really bad light here, summarizing it like that, but well, I did fuck up back then! And you know how now Jean is like “Connie and Steven should stay as friends, falling in love with your friend always ends really badly”? I kinda think that’s my fault. Still, after half a year in which our friendship was completely obliterated by us, we worked things out and apologized and forgived each other. This days we just laugh about all the idiocy we cominted when being teenagers. And Jean is friends with that girl too. She is not with me anymore, she now lives with her kinda wife and they are raising kid together. Also, that whole tragedy taught me how important communication in any kind of relationship is! That one day when we sat down with Jean in coffee shop and spent five hours rehashing everything I did wrong and he did wrong and what to do to never have it happen again is one of my most cherished memories. 

As to my parents, I was worried, I was worried a lot. I didn’t really have any reasons to be though. My mom just figured out stuff on her own, and asked me if I am gay, so I told her then. It changed nothing. Oh well, it changed one thing, now she had another thing to fret about over me! Whenever I was going out somewhere with my girlfriend, my mom would be always like “Be careful, don’t hold hands outside, people can be mean to you”. I always found that heartwarming,because it wasn’t “Don’t show who you are, because it’s shameful and what people will say?”, it was “Don’t show who you are, because I am worried you will get hurt by people who don’t understand”.

To my dad I came out by myself, but that was rather ridiculous discussion of me asking “So, dad, did you know that girl who used to visit us was my girlfriend?”

“Yes”

“Oh. Um. Cool!”

The end. 

I do think he was somehow umcofortable with that. But never made me feel bad about it. And I honestly don’t even know if he was actually umcofortable about the gay part or just “I don’t know how to talk about love with my daughter”, because he was never too good with emotions. 

I did go to one Pride parade once in my life, when I was in high school. Totally by accident. I was just in city center and there was a parade getting ready to start - which I had no idea was planned. I was just going to ignore it, but it turned out my classmates were there so I “marched” with them, more for the sake of hanging out with them rather than for the sake of parade itself. It was curious experience. On one hand we passed a lot of people who set themselves with banners saying “Homosexuality is evil”, “You are dirty” etc., on our way. On the other hand, when we were passing apartaments people were waving and smiling at us from windows, and some old ladies threw flowers all over us from balcony. So, like I said, “mixed bag”. 

When I went to Uni, I didn’t really plan to come out to anybody. But it all kinda happened by itself? One girl asked me if I am lesbian, so I didn’t see a reason to lie. She was like “YAY, I KNEW IT!” and I was jealous because I can never tell just by how somebody looks like. And since I am studying psychology, homesexuality is talked about by professors rather regularly. 

In fact, there were three situations that really stayed with me. 

One was when our lady professor derailed her own lecture for 15 minutes to tell us about her “dream wife”. She would need  to know how to cook! Because our poor professor doesn’t know how to cook. And she would love to have a breakfast served to bed by a beautiful and loving woman. 

Other one was when our genetics professor spent half a hour preaching about a “homesexuality gene” . He was really passionate about it. “We should not predend we are all the same! We are born as white or black or straight or gay or woman or man and we are all different and it’s beautiful! Why do we get so hang up over that? It would suck so much if everybody was the same. How boring that would be!”

And the last one was during a practical exercises about communication. Our taks was to “think of something somebody did to you, but you never told them about it and compose a speech you would give them to tell them how you felt about it” . 99% of the group just spoke about things other people did that hurt them. Things  they were never assertive enough to admit to those people. But one girl stood up, looked at another girl in the group and went “You are always there for me, and I appreciate you being in my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. All those ways you help me through the life are worth more than anything else. When I wake up by your side in the morning, there is no greater feeling in the world. I love you and I don’t tell you that often enough”. And everybody started clapping and professor had the biggest dumbest grin on her face. 

I think that’s just something about studying psychology. We all are there to learn that it’s normal. Even small things, when we are on lecture about family and professor corrects himself “So, when a woman finds a husband then… or a wife, of course, then blah blah”

Well, I guess all that actually paints quite positive approach of Poland towards LGBT stuff. But I still don’t find myself being comfortable to talk about the whole country. In the end we are a “religious” country. It’s just that there are some places, towns, universities, school etc. that are more open minded than others. Like everywhere else. 

Bad stuff happens too. Few months ago there was this thing, it was called “Rainbow day”, I think? No, it was “Rainbow Friday”. All schools all over the country were supposed to come together and spend one whole day teaching about acceptance, diversity and tolerance. And it did work in some towns and places. In others parents protested or schools backed out at the last minute. There was even a group of people who threatened to attack or raid schools that would take part in it. 

People seem to feel safe overall though. Every day when I go outside I see at least one woman or man caring shopping bag with rainbow colors. I know of at least one queer coffee shop in the city center and I know for a fact there is more. I regularly see that one person - who has body of a man and the most amazing, well-kept, beard I have ever seen - walking around in the stunning dress and high heels and not even once I saw anybody react to them in any negative way. The one time I actually saw somebody approach them was when some lady really wanted to know where they got those boots. I remember when I was still working in shop, a client, a boy had painted nails and it was so pretty purple color, so I had to compliment him, but I drawn attention to him and some kid went “Mom, look! This boy has so pretty nails! Can I ask him where he bought the nail polish?” and the mom was totally unfazed, just smiled and let her kid ask.

So, yea, I think it’s that, even though government itself may be a bit shitty when it comes to dealing with all this, most of the people you can meet on streets are pretty awesome. 

[everythingjonsa]

Collecting my thoughts after watching the Season 8 Jonsa hug - AAAAAAHHHH

After hearing the disappointing news just yesterday about Game of thrones season 8 coming back only in the second half of 2019, @kitten1618x gave me the best gift of my life by sending me the twitter link of the Jonsa hug. Although my initial thoughts were continuously interspersed with internal and external screaming, after about a hundred re-watches, I began to have many questions and just too many thoughts. 

(Gif Credit: @stark)

My shipper-self needs to comment first. THE LOOK ON HIS FACE!! His eyes are drinking in her face, his mouth is slightly parted and of course there is that moving camera angle as he’s walking towards her, which is mostly used for romantic couples. Full credit to Kit for this scene. His expression kinda says it all - I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH/ I’M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU ALIVE AND SAFE/I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SEEING YOU AGAIN.

So many emotions in just a second. AND SO MUCH IN CONTRAST WITH HIS SCENES WITH D in season 7. His eyes have such goosebumps-giving intensity when they’re focused on Sansa’s face. 

Whether you ship Jonsa or not, it’s blatantly clear that Jon cares about Sansa -  his family - far more than he cares for D. The best part about this scene is that, they are in public. Their banner-men, their soldier, their subjects and newly formed allies are all in all standing right there (i’ll get to that bit in just a while) but Jon has eyes only for Sansa. It’s almost as if the entire background has faded and he can see only her. He’s emotional, it’s obvious!!

(Gif credit: @stark)

In this frame we can see Jon rush into Sansa’s outstretched arms and I could be mistaken but from her brief side profile it appears like she has a smile on her face. Also, she’s still wearing the season 7 wig, I think. 

(Gif credit: @stark)

And then we have this glorious shot of Sansa, with a single curly lock of Jon’s grazing her cheek. I couldn’t help but think that Sansa has the - he’s mine, bitch and I’m not sharing him look - on her face, lol. 

I died and came back just like Jon did, after HBO gifted us with this glorious gift and my Jonsa heart just exploded!!

Whatever I write next I’m trying my level best to not be influenced by my shipper self. I think it’s safe to assume that this scene is Jon and Sansa’s reunion after separation in season 7 which had that angst-filled goodbye. I’d slot this in season 8 episode 1. 

It appears like Sansa - like the true lady of Winterfell that she is - has come out to welcome Jon and party in the courtyard of Winterfell (or whatever it is called) in spite of being pissed with Jon for his rash decision of bending the knee to Dany. COURTESY is a lady’s armour and looks like Sansa Stark is proving that. We can see her banner-men and others standing in the background as Jon and Sansa hug. 

However, Sansa’s expression as she looks at somebody from over Jon’s shoulder - is a powerful one. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that she’s looking at Dany with a great deal of skepticism.  She is a queen in her own right and especially after that look I think it’s going to be wonderful to watch the dynamic between D and Sansa play out. Sansa’s look - takes one back to her scene with littlefinger where she is being informed about the possibility of a Jon and D marriage. She has definitely NOT warmed up to the idea in season 8 either. 

Side note: SOPHIE LOOKS GORGEOUS!! AND KIT HAS HIS MAN BUN ON!!

The first teasers of every season of game of thrones has always been about the starks. Last season we got Arya, Jon*, Sansa (*From their conversation about #thejoffreybit and he once again had that soft look on his face and we were hoping he’s talking to Sansa which he was) and once again this season Jon walking towards Sansa with that soft glowing expression on his face and this time there’s no doubt about whom he’s hugging/talking to. What does this suggest?

THE STARKS ARE CENTRAL TO THIS STORY.THEY ALWAYS WERE AND THEY ALWAYS WILL BE. 

Anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves. Winterfell is where it all started. It will probably be the place where it all ends. 

HBO’s reason for this clip

If I try and analyse this from a non-shipper’s POV - they definitely couldn’t show Jon and Arya or Jon and Bran’s reunion. Jon and Sansa’s was the easiest to show because it’s expected and it’s not new. Also because of that look that Sansa gives in the current promo... just like she gives one to littlefinger at the end of season 6... it is possible for them to tease a conflict between Jon and Sansa and create a hype about a power struggle between them, ONCE AGAIN. Also, it’s easier to tease a dark Sansa, ONCE AGAIN.  

 Nope, not falling for that, but IMO most casual viewers will. 

If you ask the shipper-me, I’ll say Jon walking to take Sansa into his arms and then them focusing on the hug with the tag line - Final season, speaks volumes or perhaps is a subtle nod towards endgame? I dearly hope so. 

Also I have a feeling that when Sansa hugs Jon, she’s smiling, in all probability, like I mentioned earlier, and then, when she looks behind him her expression changes, turns cold. She doesn’t trust Jon’s allies especially not the dragon queen. 

Random thoughts - I’m over analyzing but what the hell?

We know Jon is going to be devastated this season. His whole life is built on a lie and everything is going to come crashing down. Will the Starks - Sansa especially - be his rock? I’d like to think - him rushing into her arms is foreshadowing of sorts??

Anyho, I can almost see a trend with the HBO promos. First with the #whatdoyoulove poster, the stamps, and now this Jonsa hug. I mean if you think about it, they could’ve shown us random clips, closeups even,  of Jamie, of Cersei, of Dany, of Jon. They could’ve shown the clip of Jon walking towards Sansa but then not shown her part of the hug like they did the last time round and instead shown us a scene of her talking to brienne or someone else. 

BUT NO... they gave us a part of THAT HUG. Can’t wait to see that entire scene. 

UGH... Can it not be next year already???

It means a lot, IMO... What do you think?