#waited till now to post it because its been exactly a year since i first came up with their designs <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[drbased]

I am sickened by your symbolic state posts because at the moment I’m still living at home, a place that is generally unpleasant for me. I’ve been living in a near permanent state of maladaptive daydreaming since I was a young teenager and its only this year, with moving out on the horizon, that I’m trying to move from my head into reality again. It’s difficult and I don’t exactly know how to live 😂 like with your video game post especially. I don’t know how to live in the moment by following urges. I think: I want to write later, but I don’t plan what I’m to write. Instead of following the urge to do one certain thing I seek out a mindset for the future and then never get around to it. I’ve bought countless items, like necklaces with symbols or woven bracelets, allways promisimg myself that they will be special and lifechanging only for them to be empty. How do I get out of this? How do I stop myself from turning my life into feeings instead of actions?

(if you’ve given a similar answer I apologise. I’m scrolling through your symbolic state tag rn)

So, I've been having a hard time responding to this one. I still haven't been able to finish this post in a way I'm happy with but I really do want to respond so I'm going to have to keep my answer short and hope that I can produce something more valuable at a later date. But anon, your message has really stuck with me. Here's the answer I started writing some time ago:

How do I stop myself from turning my life into feelings instead of actions?

People keep summing this stuff up better than I can and it's driving me slightly insane; all younger me wanted was to be Known and now I have random anonymous strangers I've never met reaching into my fucking Soul like how is this possible. first the yearning anon and now this.

So the Bad, Irresponsible answer is to do what I did, which is sit in a room and hotbox it and ask myself questions and wait till my brain answers them. Weed is what allowed me to blow this whole thing wide open for me. But now I don't do weed anymore I can say that you achieve Inner Peace(TM) the 'hard' way just as well - but dear god with or without drugs this IS A PROCESS. And it HAS to be a process, because there is only process, no destination. After all, there is no 'you' in the future - there is only the reality of now, and the reality of 'you' in the now, and that is what is awe-inspiring and beautiful.

The entire process of re-engaging with reality has so many interconnected parts and requires so much analogy and explanation that I have been seriously considering writing a book about it. I struggle with PDA (pathological demand avoidance), and I believe it and depression are all wrapped up in my symbolic mindset. But since I don't have any background in clinical psychology I would feel like a hack writing a self-help book. So I'm probably going to end up talking about it here, instead. And maybe one day collate it all into some sort of book or series of essays.

The core of all of this is acceptance. Defining acceptance is hard; I best describe it as wanting to, say, move your arm - the moment you've wanted it sufficiently, the moment it has happened. There is minimal causal relationship between wanting it and it happening - sufficient want becomes action, necessarily. That sufficient want becomes action is something I learned to recognise during this process - the symbolic mindset is disengaging with the mundane reality of cause-and-effect such that said cause-and-effect is re-evaluated with a narrative structure instead, utilising symbols to generate meaning with an agenda in mind. So returning to reality has to involve strengthening the relationship between cause-and-effect, and the most sustainable way to achieve this is to recognise what you want moment-to-moment, and then immediately do the thing.

So, I refer to this really irritating (complimentary) comic:

When you struggle to do things for mind-based reasons, the claim 'it't not that simple' comes from a place of being unable to recognise that part of you doesn't want to do it. And this is where the acceptance comes in: being able to recognise yourself as messy, imperfect, finite, human, and a product of your environment - instead of a glorious, infinite source of potential - will result in you feeling less fragile, more complete, and less reliant on symbols to drive a narrative about yourself so you can feel comfortable with existence. Acceptance of yourself and your wants will result in more authentic actions, which will result in less of a need for everything to 'go right'.

The process of acceptance is something that happens within you, and you will feel it when it happens: acceptance is when something goes from simply being theoretically true (I can state that I am wearing blue trousers) to being something I believe (I know that I am wearing blue trousers). Said acceptance is much less fragile, because my belief of the colour of my trousers is something I no longer need to be true - if someone says my trousers are red, I can say 'oh, they probably are' and I can look down at them and make another judgment. If they're red, I don't panic, because when I believed they were blue, that was an innocent belief that came out of my flawed human mind. I am, in short allowed to make decisions, I am allowed to believe things, to think things, without them needing to be correct, without them needing to be more correct than the reality in which I exist - the reality that came before me, and will exist regardless of my ability to percieve it, Descartes be damned.

If you want to write, but find yourself unable to write, you might have to confront something embarrassing about yourself: that you don't, actually, want to do the process of writing; instead, you want to have written something. But believing of yourself as a conduit to, and obstacle in the way of, achievement, posits said achievement as a metaphysical construct of greater importance than the literal reality of how many hours you sacrificed for said achievement. There's both a humility and a sense of responsibility in all of this: you're the one who generates meaning and feels the feelings, so you must prioritise yourself over some percieved obligation to 'the universe' - your achievements are your own and do not exist in the ether first. But reality itself exists first, and you must engage with the physical world in order to strengthen that causal relationship. There was a post I read a while back about how if you're struggling with gender dysphoria, then exercise can really help - this works because it operates under the same principle that without a natural interaction with cause-and-effect, the brain constructs a narrative to fill in the gaps, kind of like phantom-limb syndrome.

The realisation 'it is that simple' comes from the moment of acceptance. The moment 'it is that simple' is the moment you understand that writing a book is the same as moving your arm - if you want it enough, you will do it. There are many things that you may want *in theory* - but those are infinite, metaphysical, symbolic. There is only the reality of who you are and what you experience, moment-to-moment. Until you go and make that sandwich, your hunger isn't even proof that you need to eat anything. You show your depth of self through directly interacting with the real world, whatever form that takes. Symbolic thinking is what happens when you stop interacting with the real world, including the reality of your own selfhood, and the result dissatisfaction will have you sunk-cost-style retreating further and further back. Breaking out of it is hard but it's all a testament to just how much what we want is who we are.

I've barely scraped the surface here of what it takes to do all this - but this is the fundamental basis of the principle that I developed and still use to this day. It's the principle I used that got me starting to write on tumblr - instead of pathologising my desire to analyse, I decided to start getting my thoughts out into the world. Instead of waiting till I can achieve a known symbol of completion - instead of writing a book - I decided to engage in a much more immediate form of writing by directly writing out, with zero plan, what I think and publishing it instantly to the world. Because of this, my thoughts have ceased to exist as some testament to my big-brained genius - and will vanish along with me when I die - and representative of my fragile ego, but rather something I use to directly engage with other in the material space. My ideas now generate meaning because of their relationship with reality, not in spite of it. And it's infinitely more satisfying.

[destinygoldenstar]

I think it’s important of a reminder that I personally think it’s fair to critique for what a media DID do, not what they didn’t do. Because what you expect could not be the writers goals at all, and you only end up disappointed when it doesn’t do exactly what you expect.

Cause if I had a nickel for every January release of a third act of a franchise season I’m into that I’ve been disappointed by when the rest is otherwise really good…

Blah blah two nickels.

I already talked about the Total Drama Reboot ending. In all honesty I think the reception is understandably more split than anything else. Either you love the third act or you don’t. I just happened to fall in the latter category. I loved the first 8 episodes though. It’s more of a ‘This was great until it wasn’t’ situation.

And what do you know, there’s another show that also had a January third act that had me sum up that season.

Hirogaru Sky Pretty Cure.

This season was GREAT. Until it wasn’t.

I think that’s the perfect phrase for this season.

Now for context, though I don’t talk about it much in my posts, I follow all kinds of magical girl tags.

Magical Girls are my special interest. I’ve written more magical girl stories than I’ve published online. My OC, GoldenStar, can be classified as an OC if you wanted. Magical Girl shows just press my autistic buttons so much and I can never get enough of them. (Except Magical Girl Site, that show can burn in my memory and never come back in my head)

You don’t know what the genre is, it’s a sub-superhero genre that’s (most of the time) female centric, that involves (usually) a team of girls finding powers, having beautifully animated transformations into superhero personas with big hair not suited for combat, and they, with the power of love and friendship, kick ass and save the day.

Think Winx and Lolirock if you’re western.

So naturally, I couldn’t get enough of Pretty Cure back in the day. As it was basically the perfect ‘magical girl obsessor campsite’. As every season of the show has the benefit of having a brand new cast of characters each time, and therefore different lore that keeps things fresh.

I guess best way to explain it to western users is ‘Power Rangers but magical girls, and animated’

Which is an ironic way to explain it cause Power Rangers is actually an American Adaptation of a franchise called Super Sentai… made by the same company that made Pretty Cure.

I kinda had a falling out with the franchise though. That’s because, and let’s be real here, the newer seasons are kinda lousy.

Now, hold on, it’s not all bad these past five years. I loved Healin Good and WILL defend it. Tropical Rouge was decently fun and had some great episodes. But compare the seasons these past five years to some of the older ones like Heartcatch and… yeah, there’s a noticeable writing dip.

Especially when you get into Delicious Party…

That was the first time I ever downright hated a Pretty Cure season and got angry at multiple points. And if I wasn’t angry, I Aw as bored to tears. Not a good combination. Just so so SO much wrong with this season from beginning to end. (And saying that opinion got me blocked from Fandom.)

But then Hirogaru Sky was next, and yes, wow, it started out PHENOMENAL. I was blown away again and completely invested again. This season seemed like it was doing all kinds of shake ups to the franchise and taking the entire structure in new directions. While also paying homage to the first season with the duo team structure. I loved its main characters and their dynamics throughout the show. The designs are gorgeous. The first half is thrilling and intense and some of the best of the franchise since Hugtto. Back then, I was about ready to call this an S tier season and in my top 5…

This is why you wait till a season is done before you go say stuff like that. I learned that now.

Now, I’m not actually going to dunk on the ending this time. Because bottom line is: It’s one very stupid plot twist after another to the point where it’s like they can’t make up their mind what they want, none of the build up throughout the show amounted to anything, and the final battle is horrifically paced and completely botches the character arcs of certain people. Sora in particular.

Not THAT Sora. That Sora had an amazing payoff. I’m talking about Pretty Cure Sora, not Ninjago Sora. Dragons Rising was really good and actually stuck the landing.

But I do think we’re hating on this season for all the wrong reasons. I know we all made predictions about where the story was headed, and almost all those theories became wrong.

Like, I know we all predicted, myself included, that Shalala was the twist main villain. This turned out to be wrong. But they didn’t have to do that if they didn’t want it.

It’s the same thing with Total Drama. We all predicted Damien was a finalist and that turned out wrong. But I chose not the criticize that show for not making him a finalist because, well, the writers didn’t want him to be a finalist. That’s okay. Instead I criticized how they handled the role in the story they gave him. You know, what they intended.

Just because your theories were wrong, does NOT make it the end of the world. You can definitely claim that your theory would have been the better story route than what we got. BUT fact of the matter is, you’re not the writer. You don’t get to decide what the writers want to do with their story. And saying you do cause you’re a fan is just entitlement. (Go make a fanfiction if you’re gonna be that petty about it)

I keep saying, don’t criticize what the writers didn’t do, criticize what the writers DID do. Try and see what the writers were going for. Not what you wanted.

We all expected going in that Hirogaru Sky would be this epic hero-ideology season. This big philosophy on what it means to be a hero and the ups and downs that came with it. Kind of like a Kamen Rider Kuuga type of story. There was all kind of foreshadowing that Sora was going to endure quite a bit of an arc upon realizing her hero idealism was kinda trash.

We got that about the first half, then nothing. What we got instead was NOT a morally grey complex narrative. We got a simple black and white world where Sora’s hero idealism turned out to be pretty much perfect from the start, and the villain is literally just as ‘evil for the sake of evil’ as you can get. It became ‘I don’t know if I scan grow up to be a hero’ instead of ‘being a hero kinda sucks’.

So when that wasn’t the theme we got, and it wasn’t this morally complex story that we all hoped for… yeah I can see people getting angry.

But that’s not the problem for me. Because they wanted a black and white story. So they did a black and white story. So we gotta judge it by what they were going for.

Now yes, Shalala being the villain instead of who we got would’ve been preferable, if only cause the villain we got is just awful as a character and fails as a villain in almost every front. The hero role being muddied out would’ve been juicy in angst. But it’s not what the writers wanted to do.

So instead of criticizing what it’s not. I’m choosing to criticize it for what it is. That the villain was horrifically built up and a terrible character, and the final battle is horrific pacing that leaves no satisfying conclusion for Sora because of bad pacing. She gets slapped with dark energy juice and all it takes to snap her out of it is Deus Ex Machina from her BFF? Seriously? You couldn’t think of a better way to resolve that?

Just because it didn’t say stuff about being a hero that you want them to say, doesn’t mean they said anything at all. And if you want to rewrite this season to say the stuff you thought it should have, then go ahead. No one’s stopping you.

Basically, I think the third act distaste for Hirogaru Sky is justified, but people are pointing out the wrong reasons why it’s distasteful.

I said it once, Ill say it again:

You HAVE to have a solid third act. Because that’s what people will walk away from. If you try something fancy and screw up, people are gonna remember the botched ending rather than the whole story. Even if the rest of your story is fantastic.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.���

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[tommyspeakycap]

“I know no one asked” consider this an open invitation to post whatever you want whenever you want, you’re incredible !!

Reunions and Surprises

“Daddy look silly!”

The sound of the little girls teasing makes Ben smile hugely, his eyes crinkling as a laugh bellows from his chest.

“Daddy was wearing a suit, baby. You’re right, it was different.” You join your daughter in her taunt, scooping the two and a half year old up into your arms along with your phone from the bed where she had been laying. Ben wants to force a frown in retort, but his smile is far too big to even begin to dip. It actually hurts his cheeks with its force.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Ben retorts, “I’ve worn a suit before.” After the words leave his mouth, his eyebrows furrow together as he attempts to remember when the last time he did that actually was. He was most commonly adorned in shorts and a t-shirt, in fact almost always dressed like that. Even lounging around the house, he looked exactly that way. For charity balls and pre-season banquets he could be found in suits occasionally, depending on dress code. However he hadn’t had one of those since the beginning of the pandemic, so his kind wandered in thought.

“Not in front of her you haven’t,” you quip, “well, not since before the pandemic, when she was too little to remember.”

The thought makes Ben chuckle. That attempted date night when your daughter was only 7 months old. You hadn’t had a date night in so long you both attempted a fancy restaurant dinner with the candle lit aura and waiters wearing tuxedos serving expensive wine that both of your would buy, taste and never drink. The first suit he’d put on had been baby-vomited on not five minutes later. You had a huge, hormonal cry because only one your pre-baby dresses still fit you now and Ben had to calm your cries after he handed your daughter over to his mother who ordered him to remind you how bloody beautiful you were. 20 minutes into dinner, a colleague brought their newborn baby in to visit all the other members of staff and you literally had to just sit and hope the baby didn’t start crying.

Of course, the baby did start crying and the breast material of your dress was soaked right through. The night ended with Ben you changing into one of Ben’s spare training shirts and track pants from his boot while he ordered at the McDonald’s till still wearing those fitted slacks, missing his tie with his top buttons undone and the back of his shirt untucked from when he was driving. You ate your McDonald’s in the car and then had both looked back at that care seat sitting in the backseat. “Wanna go home to our baby?” You’d asked, turning back to Ben who was staring at you with eyes full of adoration and a smile on his lips. “Yeah, let’s go home to our baby.”

The look on your face tells him you were replaying the same memory that he was. “Wild night, huh?” He grins cheekily, quirking an eyebrow. You laugh heartily with a nod, “you think that’s wild, you should hear what your clan got up to last night. Finger paints at 12am and Cheerios for supper because your girls missed our guy.” You explain, eyes darting off the FaceTime screen to look over at what your young daughter was doing in the middle of the room. You turn back to his slightly sad eyes when you’re satisfied she’s only playing with her toys from her suitcase. “I miss you guys too, so much.”

He’s genuinely not sure what else to say because if he even begins to try telling you just how much, he knows he’ll start crying right away.

“We’ll see you tonight though, we can’t bloody wait.”

As excited as Ben is for the Euro final, there is that little part of him that knows he’s more excited about the fact that win or lose, he can finally pass those stupid blue barricades sections of Wembley that you’ve had to stay on opposites sides of for the past 6 weeks. His heart physically hurts at the fact he hasn’t been able to hug you and hold his baby girl for such a long time. It’s the longest he’s ever been away from the sweet little girl who holds his whole world in the palm of her tiny little hand. He cannot wait for the moment he gets to hold both of you again, tight to him without a care in the world for who’s watching.

It’s all he really thinks about during the training and towards the end of the game he can’t take his mind off how close he was to seeing his family.

The final penalty broke his heart. He was destroyed by the fact they had lost, but the second he spotted you holding that three year old and both of you waving hysterically his tears bleed out from his eyes as he laughs in glee. You descend the stairs, allowing Gareth to let you through the barricade to step onto the pitch where you could let down your daughter to sprint across the grass towards her favourite man.

Ben drops to his knees, tears streaming down his face as his daughter collided with his body. His arms wrap around her so tightly, his chest jumping with his sobs as you come back into view from the crowd of players gathered. He stands up, holding the little girl to him with one arm with her little legs clinging to him as he opens his other arm for you, desperately. He needs to have both his girls. Needs.

You walk into them happily, his arms finally closing around his little family tighter than he ever had. He keeps kissing your head and his daughters head over and over again until he shifts the little girl to his hip, still clinging onto his neck with her tired head resting on his chest. It was way past her bedtime, but neither you nor her would’ve dreamed of letting her sleep through this and not get to see her daddy for the first time in nearly two months.

“Daddy kiss mama!” She instructs, just as bossy as she always ways.

Ben pulls back so he can use the hand not supporting his daughter to bring your head to him, pressing a long kiss on your lips. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still wet and red and yours glisten with the same tears but instead with the pure emotion of seeing him again, being able to hold him physically and have him kiss you. It was so perfect. You missed him so much.

“We need you for the interview, Chilwell.”

He turns around, face sinking as he looks at the man wearing a headset looking rushed and holding a clipboard while looking at him expectantly. Ben sighs heavily, looking between you and the awaiting man. “Go on, it’s alright.” You say softly, rubbing his bicep. Selfless as always, it’s his career above everything despite how much he hates it being that way. He loves the game, loves his job but he hates this aspect with everything he has.

“Look mate,” Ben starts, but the employee just holds up his hands as Gareth enters the scene. “He can have her with him,” Gareth says, gesturing to the child still clinging to him neck. “I could use (y/n) for a chat with Saka anyway.” He adds, looking at you almost with pleading eyes. He doesn’t regret putting Saka up to the plate, but he regrets that the young man is so torn up, so heartbroken and he knows you can often give an uplifting chat better than anyone else he knows. It’s undisputed. It’s why Ben’s been doing so well recently. You’re a force of nature with those inspirational pep talks.

“Alright, okay. I’m coming. I’ll meet you back by the goalpost?”

You nod to Ben and follow after Gareth.

The whole nation falls in love even further with the Chelsea left back the second that interview begins with his little girl still clinging onto him, happily enjoying her daddies company and waving off to some of the cameras when their operators smiled at her or caught her attention. She was bloody and that wasn’t just you and Ben being biased. That was fact. Undisputed.

The stadium is pretty much barren of fans by the time you and Ben end up together again. Alone this time, your daughter having found her favourite appointed uncle and subsequently fallen asleep in Jack Grealish’s tight hold as he sits chatting with family.

“God I’ve missed you.” Ben hums against your lips, your back leaning against the goalpost as he clears the stray hairs out of your face. “Missed you and our girl, missed watched you be a mum.” He admits, albeit a little sheepishly. It makes you giggle. “You’re so good at it and she loves you so much, like, did you know how much we love you? Do I show you? I’m not around enough to do as much as I’d like but-“

“Ben it’s alright,” you coo, stopping his words in their tracks before he lets tears spill from those beautiful eyes again. “You do so much. A lot more than I know a lot of people in your shoes do. Some of the girls were actually surprised by how much effort you put in.” You shrug softly. You weren’t surprised at all. From the moment you got together you knew Ben would be a great dad and he was even better than you could have imagined. He’s perfect. Even when he’s away, he calls, he texts, he asks for photos and always checks in to make sure you’re okay. He’ll send people round to check on you if he can’t get in touch or your tone through messages is a little off and he’ll make sure you know who to call if you can’t reach him and you need him. He’s careful and sure and he’ll almost never miss anything important. He’s perfect.

“I love you.” He hums, pressing his lips down onto yours. “I know,” you return, smirking again him to incite a chuckle.

“Can’t believe how big she’s gotten.” Ben notes, referring to the little one he spots sitting on Jack’s lap in the stands, still snoring away. “Makes you miss them being so little.” You agree, also turning to face the direction of your daughter as Ben wraps his arms around you from behind.

“We could try for another?” He suggests.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” You snort, shaking your head. He knows he’s away a lot, but he hadn’t expected the idea to be shot down like that.

“Really? Not even one?” He almost whines.

“It’s a bit too late for that.”

“How?”

“Can’t try for one if we’re already having two.”

You literally feel his body freeze and react, his eyes bugging as he spins you around. “No way!” He cheers, searching your face for any sign of a joke. You nod. “Yes way. Six weeks on the dot.” You note.

“Oh we’re good.” He holds onto your arms, eyebrows raised.

“Indeed.”

You giggle and he chuckles loudly, more tears again rolling over his cheeks as he pulls you into his chest, pressing more kisses onto the crown of your head. That very passionate, noiseless night six weeks and one day ago before he was off for the England camp had notably not included any form of protection. Be that from the heat of the moment or the fact you were both desperate for sex considering it wasn’t a common occurrence with a toddler to look after all day who often found her way between you and Ben at night when she realised she preferred your bed hers.

“I had a whole thing planned like a shirt for her and a big reveal but you sounded so hurt and whatever fabric cleaner the camp uses on your kids is seriously going to make me spew, so figured the cat would get out the back before anyway.”

He laughs again, allowing you to pull back from him so you don’t have to take in the scent that was making you nauseous anymore. You smile with him, raising your wrist to your nose to smell the perfume from there instead as as to get that smell out your nostrils for good.

“Don’t care how you tell me, we can always surprise everyone else?” He suggest, prompting you to nod almost cheerfully. You played it off, but he knew you had wanted to surprise him more than you would say. It was part of the not so great amounts of fun that one gets from being pregnant. “Yeah,” you smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

Ben nods, offing out his hand to you from a reasonable distance. You hook your pinkie finger around his so you can walk in the direction of the stairs to get to your daughter.

“Twins?” Ben breathes, almost in disbelief as the fact hits him. You nod, concealing your snigger at his shock sticken features. “Yup.”

“Just as well the football pays good eh?” He chuckles, “if they’re anything like you, god it’ll cost me a fortune putting them all through school.”

You click against your teeth, raising your eyebrows, “and if they’re anything like you, it’ll cost you fuck all.”

Ben definitely missed the sharp witted pregnancy snap he almost forgot you had last time.

[loostssoul]

if you kissed me - Rodrick Heffley | 1.9k

Yeah yeah i know i haven't written since a million years ago. and yeah yeah i know this is my first real fanfiction i posted on tumblr. fair warning, i'm not the best writer, i honestly just do this for fun and i'm totally up to criticism because i do want to make my writing better. if this is literally inaccurate, im sorry its been like 5 years since i've read the books. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest that I created in the span of a few hours.

paring: rodrick x reader genre: fluff. lots of fluff

Credits to the maker of the picture! 15 Days till the Contest | 9:42 PM, Saturday

Plick, plick, plick

My speakers were blasting so loud I almost didn’t hear the sound of pebbles hitting my window.

Plick, plick, plick

I rubbed my eyes and slammed my laptop shut, walking toward my bedroom window. Peering down, I saw a figure a few yards down from my second-story bedroom, looking back up at me. Dark brown, messy hair that stuck up around his face. A red and black flannel, black ripped jeans, and, (of course) a tee-shirt with “Loded Diper” clumsily written on it. A grin spread on his face as he saw my face come into his view, causing me to blush. Rodrick Heffley, Crossland High bad boy, and my boyfriend.

I unlocked the latch to my window and stuck my head out, taking in the cool air and letting the neighbors enjoy the music I was playing (they never did). I looked down.

“Y/N!” He whisper-yelled

“Evening, Heffley.”

“I need to tell you something!”

“What’s so important that you have to scratch my window instead of using the power of modern technology to call me?”

His mouth opened to give me a response, but nothing came out. I smirked, “Come on up.”

I opened the window wider as he climbed the trellis that lined the back of my house. I backed up to my door and locked it. Precautions, my parents liked Rodrick but they definitely wouldn’t approve of him in my room at night. I looked back and I saw him, every feature of him illuminated by the light of my room. His cheeky smile and chocolate brown eyes. He slowly closed the window and walked toward me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. I still got butterflies whenever he touched me.

“Hey, Spiderman. What did ya climb in here to tell me?” I asked

“I got Loded Diper into a contest.”

My eyes widened, Loded Diper, my boyfriend’s rock band, wasn’t exactly known for being the best. It was mostly known for his mom’s insane dance moves during the Plainview Talent Show. But of course, i'll never say that in front of his face.

“You did?! That’s awesome Rodrick!”

“Yeah! It's a battle of the bands contest, we’re going against two other bands. I really think this is gonna be our big break!” His eyes sparkled in excitement.

His happiness was contagious, he was like a goddamn puppy. I pulled him into my arms. “I’m proud of you Rod.” I muttered and smiled into his collarbone. I felt him inhale the scent of my hair and twirl my locks around his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the hug. “I’m having practice tomorrow with the band, you wanna come?”

“Sure. I go to every practice anyway, why miss out on this one?” I shrugged.

He chuckled and looked at me. Really looked at me. That’s one of the reasons why I fell for him. It never seemed like it, but he paid attention. We’ve only been dating for 4 months, but he knew me like no one else did, and I knew that in the way he looked at me. I felt his hand cup my face, his thumb rubbing my cheek in small circles. I looked up at him, noticing how tall he was, how close he was. Was I the one who leaned in? Was he the one who leaned in? Did we just do it subconsciously? Did he want this? Was he ready? Was I ready?

The ringing of Rodrick’s phone filled the room. The daze we were trapped in was gone and we separated, our faces red. Rodrick picked up the phone, it was his mom.

“Yeah, mom? Mom...I’m in the middle of something. I’ll do laundry later, ok? Now? C’mon… Alright, fine. Bye.” He hung up. “Sorry, I gotta blast.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked him as he started toward my window.

He looked back at me and planted a kiss on my forehead, the farthest we’ve ever gone with physical touch as a couple.

“Tomorrow”

~~✰✰✰~~

14 Days till the Contest | 1:22 PM, Saturday afternoon

“Should we take it from the top?”

Practice wasn’t going so well. I could feel the nervousness, the tension. Drums were slightly off beat, the guitarist’s fingers would fly to the wrong places on the fretboard, lyrics would go all over the place. The contest was two weeks away, and Loded Diper was already feeling the anxiousness. I sat on the floor of the garage, on top of a picnic blanket I found. To Rodrick’s dismay, his mom forced him to let Greg watch band practice, as a form of “brother-to-brother bonding time.” Greg sat next to me, mockingly covering his ears.

“Oh thank god, it's done.” Greg said with an immense amount of sarcasm and uncovering his ears.

Rodrick threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head, “Shut up.”

“Both of you, be nice.” I laughed. “I think you guys should take a break for a while, maybe shake off the nerves.”

“Good idea Y/N, 20 minute break everyone!” The lead singer said. Everyone spread out, grabbing a piece of pizza ordered earlier and laying down. Greg ran out of the garage, yelling, “I’m free!”

Rodrick stood up and began gulping down a bottle of water. He wore a black tanktop and black ripped jeans, sweat dripping down his forehead. I ran up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He turned and faced me, running his hands through my hair, lost in thought.

“You ok, Rod?” I asked him.

He sighed, “nerves”

I leaned my head on his chest, “You’re gonna do great, you’ve done so many gigs in the past. Think of this as one of those!”

He smiled at me, “You know what would make me feel a lot less nervous?”

“Oh god. What?”

A really common thing Rodrick did was try to bargain a kiss on the lips from me. It's been an ongoing joke, a meaningless bit he did all the time. I’ll do my homework if you kissed me on the lips. I’ll smile in the picture if you kissed me on the lips. It still hasn’t worked.

“I might be less nervous if you kissed me on the lips.” He whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes, “If that’s what it takes then I think you’ll lose the competition.”

He let go of me and laughed, my favorite laugh. “Worth a try.” He shrugged, going off to join his bandmates and the pizza. But as I watched him smile and laugh with his friends, I lost myself. I thought about the previous night. The way we fit into each other, the closeness, the fact that was so close that I could see my reflection in his eyes.

Maybe I should just say yes.

~~✰✰✰~~

The Day of the Contest

For the past 2 weeks, Rodrick has given me the “kiss-bargain” joke 9 times. Every time, I deflected it with sarcastic remarks, and every time I regretted not agreeing.

I sat on the front steps of my porch, waiting for Rodrick to pick me up. I regretted the jean shorts and plain black tee-shirt I had on, as a cold breeze brushed my skin. I pulled my black leather jacket on, which I painted “Loded Diper” on the back in white paint. Then, I heard it. The echo of heavy metal turned to full blast, and… the faint sound of something big getting knocked over. Oh god, they’re here. The white van with “Loded Diper” written in huge words screeched to a halt in front of my house.

The window rolled down, revealing my boyfriend and his excited grin. “Get in.”

~~✰✰✰~~

30 minutes till Loded Diper preforms

It felt surreal to be backstage, and really exciting. Energy was flowing through the room, as all the other bands talked and played. The rest of the band members seemed excited, full of adrenaline. Except for Rodrick, he’s been nervous ever since soundcheck. His leg was bouncing,he twirled his drumsticks around, drumming them on random objects, and his eyes stared into nothing.

“Rodrick, you want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Huh?” He didn’t take his eyes away from the ground, his voice seemed far away.

I lifted a liquid eyeliner pen I had in my pocket, “Eyeliner. I just did mine, we can match!”

He lifted his head and noticed me. I had my eyeliner smudged, just like he always does during a gig. He grinned, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”

I’ve done his eyeliner many times in the past, and I loved doing it because I had to be as close to him as possible. So I hopped onto his lap, pressing myself close to him, trying to comfort him with my warmth.

“Close your eyes.” I ordered.

As I applied his eyeliner, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was heavy, and fast. I’m pretty sure I would still hear it if I wasn’t as close to him as I was, even though the loud music blasting through the theatre.

“Done”

He opened his eyes, and butterflies flooded my stomach. We were close. Very close. Should I do it? Should I lean in?

Rodrick probably sensed my flustered-ness. He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

I rolled my eyes, blushing hard. “Shut up.” I said, playfully punching him.

~~✰✰✰~~

“5 Minutes until Loded Diper performs!” A man exclaimed to us.

Rodrick was as nervous as ever. We’ve been standing on the left wing of the stage, watching the other bands play. It felt like a bunch of Loded Diper copy-pastes. A bunch of high schoolers, weird names, very aggressive playing. But they were still pretty good. Rodrick was biting the nails of one of his hands and tapping his other hand on the wall behind him. I looked up at him and held his hand, stopping it from fidgeting. He smiled nervously.

Now or never Y/N…

“Hey, you said that if I kiss you, you won’t be as nervous. Right?”

He looked at me, wide eyed. He seemed to be trying to compute what I said.

I stood on tiptoe and put his face in my hands. It was that night all over again. Every detail of his face, of him was in full view. His eyes, his eyeliner, his scent, his lips. I leaned in.

His lips were soft against mine, but they were tense, flustered. I was terrified, It was the wrong place, the wrong time. Until I felt one hand in my hair, another on my waist, pulling me closer.

How long was the kiss? A few seconds? It felt like minutes, hours. Sparked ignited. Butterflies flew in my stomach. His scent was the only thing I smelled, his warmth was the only thing I felt. The music faded away. Everything faded away. It was just him and I. Until we broke apart, taking in deep breaths of each other. We wanted more, but Loded Diper was playing in a few seconds.

“Hey, Rodrick.”

“Yeah?”

“If you win I’ll kiss you again”

We both knew I would kiss him regardless.

I didn't edit this because editing is for wimps (just kidding be responsible and edit your work)

please like and reblog because it gives me serotonin and i need that

[deputyjuyeon]

JUMPSHOT ✢ HYUNJAE┇13

how y/n got her flowers pt.1

❊ warnings: profanities

wc: ±480

the other day after going to the mall..

Y/n pov

"Y/n, Hyunjae, we're gonna head home first yeah? You two have fun," Yujin linked her arm on Wonyoung's, "But don't do anything stupid kay?"

Hyunjae chuckled and waved, smirking at her comment.

"Wait that means I gotta go too. Yujin wait up!" you panicked, imagining all the possible scenarios that would happen if you hadn't gone home with the two of them.

It wasn't late at all, they'd just finished lunch, but you were desperately trying to avoid being alone together with Hyunjae.

But wait.. don't I like him? You're probably wondering. Yes, you do, that's exactly why.

"Y/n, Hyunjae literally lives two floors below you," Yujin's sudden glare made you startle.

"It's one floor actually," Hyunjae added.

"That's even better!"

While keeping her gaze stuck on you, Yujin reached for her phone and sent a text message.

A ring was heard from inside your pocket.

Frowning at Yujin's text, you blurted out, "But he wants to go somewhere else first no?" you turn to Hyunjae only to be disappointed by his answer.

"No, I can take you home," his eyes turned into crescent moons and his cheeks looked extra adorable that you felt like pinching them.

You melted from his smile till you realize you weren't standing straight.

Hyunjae was quick to catch you in his arms. Concerned, he asked a million questions, "Y/n, are you okay? Are you not feeling well? Should we go home? Do you need me to carry you?"

Holy shit. You're so fucking gorgeous.

You were still out of it. You couldn't hear anything or see anyone but him. Your faces were merely inches apart. You experienced a light tingle when his breath came in contact with your lips. Your heart skipped a beat—maybe even two. Good thing you hadn't forgotten how to breathe.

"See, I think it's pretty alright to leave you both together. We'll be going then, bye!" Yujin saw her chance to escape and she did, leaving you two together at last.

The both of you turned to Yujin while you were still in Hyunjae's grasp. Soon, you two realized that the position you were in was awkward and he let go, still making sure you were feeling okay.

"Are you sure you're alright Y/n? We can go home right now, if you want."

"No, it's okay, I'm okay. You still have a place in mind?"

"I think there's just a park outside. Wanna go? You're a hundred percent sure you're fine right?"

Nodding to his question, you take a few deep breaths to prepare yourself for whatever this boy could do to you. Be it puking from a single smirk from him or passing out just because the Lee Hyunjae is walking together with you, alone, because he wants to.

Yeah, I'm fine. As long as your pretty face doesn't stare at me for too long.

❊ synopsis: for years of being a basketball prodigy, everything seemed easy for you, but things change when you need to take on a whole new challenge on the court: to face 12 men with immaculate talent for sport and unbelievable good looks.

❊ pairings: fem!reader × tbz!ot12 (this is the path for hyunjae's ending! if you'd like to read other's endings, check out the masterlist at the end of the post!)

❊ a/n: don't really like this chapt but what can i do 😭 also its been a while since i posted a written chapter and ive gotten suckier UGH i hate this

❊ taglist: send an ask or a message to be added in the taglist! (or if you're shy form's here 😉) @suzy-rainbow @jaerisdiction @zvae @mingiandbaconjam @friendshipbear @minsikluv @sunjae1924 @plonys @givememunjang @svtfilms @s0ngk4ng @grassbutneo @stealanity @sanghak-enthusiast @jumilzzz @sofie296 @hidejeon @justalildumpling @paralumanniluna @planethyuka @moonieric @skylions-den @djmalikzayn @en-sun @sunwoahkim @taem-min @i6hoons @yunkiwii @allorysayshi @theskzvibe @en-boyz @teti-menchon0604

❊ permanent taglist: @cottoncandy-kiwiin @wooyoung-a @grassbutneo @justalildumpling @kyswoo @yourjaylaks @cloudykyu @zvae @taem-min @en-sun @allorysayshi

❊ can't tag ☹: @yannew @liahjyeonz @jujucloudz @princessmingiuwu @my-summer-night @fluttering-tbz

↺ | masterlist | ↻

[egcdeath]

hook, line, and sinker

summary: steve was never meant to be anything more to you than a check, a basic mission. but somewhere along the way, things had veered from that.

pairing: steve rogers x spy!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, bad decisions, betrayal, unhappy ending

author's note: it has been a minute since i've posted a fic! i hope you enjoy :)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Despite the different rooms you found yourself in, the harsh morning sun was always the first thing you saw in the morning. Its bright rays would peek through the room’s shades and land right onto your face, intruding on some of the more vulnerable moments of your life.

When you finally angled your face away from the beaming star, your tired eyes fell upon the man next to you. The man you should’ve never taken things this far with. A man on the run, who you were sent after.

You sighed softly as you became a bit more conscious, and a now slightly more awake Steve threw a large arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled softly against your ear. You nodded and relaxed further into the slightly stiff motel mattress, mentally snapshotting and framing this moment in time. Yet another to add in the five month scrapbook of your time with Steve. Time that you recognized was quickly running out.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes once more, to listen to Steve’s soft breaths as he inhaled the scent of you. It made your heart hurt knowing that within the next week you would no longer get to be in those arms. Knowing that you would have to wake up alone in a new apartment in a new country and wait for a new mission while the news on the television droned on about the nomadic Captain America being flushed out of hiding. That Steve was no more to you than a mission. That it was your fault that you had fallen so hard and so fast.

So you treasured it while you had it. Hummed contently as Steve massaged your side before peppering little kisses against your neck. Tried to absorb the stubborn tear that threatened to fall down your face at any moment.

“We have to leave today,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Natasha wants to meet you.”

Your eyes shot open and your brows momentarily furrowed, something you quickly attempted to play off with a wide smile. There was no way that she wouldn’t recognize who you were— despite being declared ‘dead’ years ago, you were one of the more esteemed spies in your community. What that also meant is that you had even less time with Steve than you’d expected.

“When are we leaving? Am I gonna have to get used to another time zone?”

“Probably a few. Nat’s already with Sam, but we heard there’s something weird going on in Scotland with Wanda and Vision.”

“Should I really be getting involved with this then? It sounds like some pretty intense Avenger business if the parts of the team you still communicate with are getting together. I can just stay here ‘till you guys are ready to come back.”

Steve gave you an ‘are you serious?’ look before breaking into soft laughter, “are you serious?” You nodded wordlessly in response. “Oh, you’re serious. I promise that you’ll be fine.”

“Well, things better not get weird,” you giggled right along with him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s face so that you could look into his eyes. You took another mental picture of him. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to be the last.

——

After you prepared yourself for the long car ride ahead of you, you slipped your second burner phone out of the hidden pocket of your suitcase, you were met with several missed messages by the man who sent you on the mission in the first place.

What is the wait?

I was referred to you for a reason

Have you even found him yet?

I’m not paying for you to sit around and go to brunch all day.

Do I need to send more money for a plane ticket or something??

No, I’ve got it. He’ll be in custody by tonight.

He better be. Or else you won’t be around to see tomorrow.

You swallowed thickly. You wouldn’t be dealing with this in the first place if you weren’t so irresponsible. And if word got out that you were falling in love with your targets, your reputation would be in shambles. You should’ve known from the start that this could never end well.

Steve stepped back into the bedroom area, a goofy smile on his face at the sight of you sprawled out on your back on top of the dingy motel bed. “You ready?” he asked, sounding chipper. You assumed he was ecstatic that you were finally going to be able to meet his friends, which made your heart hurt even more.

For a moment you considered the possibility of not going through with it. Of going along with Steve, work, prestige, and that hefty bounty be damned. You would still be living life on the run, but you’d have Steve, and everyone else on his side on your side too. You’d have some semblance of a family, and maybe someday you’d have a real family and someone to grow old with.

You chastised yourself for getting soft before sitting up, “I’m ready.”

——

You weren’t ready.

You knew you had to move quickly, the sun was going down, and you’d made a promise that needed to be fulfilled, or god knew what would happen to you.

You reached for the volume dial on the radio portion of the car, and turned down the song that Steve was currently humming along to.

“We should probably get off on the next exit that has a gas station,” you prompted, “the tank’s getting pretty low.”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to the dashboard and he nodded in agreement, “you’re right. Good catch.”

Steve pulled the car off and drove you to the nearest gas station, humming pleasantly along to the music once again. Your stomach was twisting and untwisting knots with every foot you got closer to the station, knowing exactly what you would have to do once you arrived.

Somehow, this was the most nerve wracking moment of your career. Not infiltrating secret government operations, not pulling the trigger on a mark, not even seeing the message from Tony Stark asking for you to find a way to bring Steve in.

You hurried into the main building of the station, making up an excuse on the spot to go inside. You made your way into a bathroom stall, and slipped the phone you hid away earlier out of the extra pocket in your pants.

Your hands shook as you dialed the first two numbers. You took one last deep breath as your finger hovered over the final number. You had one last chance to change your mind, to go back out to the car like nothing had happened because nothing had happened. You would drive a little longer before staying in another shitty hotel, and think about how you made the right decision as you curled up next to Steve’s warm body.

But you couldn’t. You were given this mission, and you needed to complete it.

You pressed the last nine, immediately connecting with an emergency service operator. You gave them the tip that you had seen Steve Rogers pumping gas into a black Honda Civic, and provided them with your location. With every word, your voice trembled a little more. You were grateful for your proximity to a toilet, as the lump inside of your throat threatened to force the contents of your stomach up with every passing moment.

You hung up the phone and looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You could barely recognize yourself now, and you weren’t sure if that was from the flagrant betrayal of your partner, or the undermining of your own personal rules for the past five months of your life.

After reflecting on what you’d done for a few minutes, you made your way back to the car. You sat down in the passenger seat, lip trembling as you thought about Steve, and the fact that you’d laid a trap for someone you had such strong feelings for.

Steve sat down just a few minutes later, a smile on his face, and snacks from the gas station in his arms. As he passed you a water bottle, he couldn’t help but notice the tears slipping down your face.

“Hey, what‘s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the rest of the items on his lap and leaning over the middle console to console you.

You began to full-on sob now, each tremble of your body filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Steve. I am so sorry,” you repeated.

“No, no, you’re okay. What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I- I had no other choice,” you wailed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased and he pulled away from you, betrayal evident in his features, “oh.”

You swallowed hard and shook your head.

“So this was the plan all along?” he questioned. Your lack of response seemed to answer the question for him. “Was any of this real?”

“All of it was, Steve,” you all but whimpered out.

He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn’t quite put together what he truly wanted to say. It was silent in the car for a moment, aside from your quiet sniffles.

“I loved you,” he finally said, hurt evident in his delivery. The admission shook you to your core. You almost couldn’t believe that the first time you were hearing it was after you had put him into such a terrible situation. After you turned in someone that you cared about for your own gain.

“I know,” you looked away from Steve in shame, the look of hurt on his face now permanently imprinted in your mind.

The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Not too long after, you noticed the unmissable blue and red of emergency vehicles approaching your own. It was time.

You unlocked your door and exited without another word. You refused to look back to the car, keeping your head down and your eyes squeezed shut, knowing that if you had to see Steve being taken away, you might never get over the permanent sick feeling you were currently in the midst of.

You walked right inside of the building, stopping in front of an aisle of chargers and finally looking back at the mess that you had made.

“What’s going on out there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter, peeking out the large glass windows.

“I don’t know,” you feigned ignorance and casually shrugged, ignoring the fact that the sight of about a dozen police and SWAT vehicles was tearing you up inside. What were they going to do to him?

You turned away from the scene once again, pretending to browse through the low quality electronics next to you. You heard some yelling, a bit of a struggle, then it was all over.

The coast was clear. Your mission was over.

You left the store without purchasing anything. You moved sluggishly as you got back inside of the now abandoned vehicle.

You started the car once again. This time without the radio playing overplayed pop songs, and without Steve happily humming along. You stared blankly ahead of you, feeling numb above anything else. Steve's words resonated in your mind, bouncing around in your head as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

Guilt was beginning to creep up on you in a way that you’d never experienced before. You immediately felt haunted by the ghosts of your memories with Steve. Of every entry in your mental scrapbook, of the final image of the hurt on Steve’s face as he confessed his true feelings for you. Of all, you were left with one terrifying thought.

You loved him too.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Hi! How are you doing? ^^ ☆

Just wanted to know if you could make a headcanon about how would it be like after an argument with Armin? Please

Tysm for reading me, I love your work ♡♡♡

You're so sweet and nice ♡ of course I'd love to do one and tbh we must be on the same wavelength because i was just thinking about that yesterday!!!

I really liked your idea so imma do both a scenario and a headcanon! Hope you don't mind?

After an argument with Armin

{ Armin x reader | tw: hurt/comfort, self-image issues | angst with happy ending | modern }

{ "Moonlit View" byOscar Kleineh 1846 - 1919 }

Being with Armin had its many, many perks, one being that he's really empathetic and understanding, he doesn't assume things without evidence and knows misunderstandings happen.

When facing problems or disagreements, he thinks of a solution, not argue. He rather you work together against the problem than against each other.

Whenever you were in a bad mood he'd assume the best and think of what might have caused it instead of taking it personally, he knows you still love him, he knows you're just stressed. Maybe comfort could help? Maybe a lovely cuddly evening? Or maybe you need some space?

He's just really good at reading people's emotions and handling these situations, thanks to his efforts you both successfully managed to avoid any kind of arguments or fights most couples go through.

Which is why it was a shocking surprise to everyone when Eren got a call from Armin late at night, asking if he can stay over because you two just had, what he described as, the biggest fight.

Eren almost didn't believe him at first, he thought Armin was playing a prank on him. But then he heard the quivering in his voice and the hiccup that followed. Armin was crying, things were serious.

The last thing he said to you while putting his coat on was "I'm sorry, I'm weak, you and I know that."

Him saying that, in that tone, with those tearful eyes, made you want to get up and yell at him that no he isn't. He shouldn't just say that about himself like it's a fact and not just the results of years of self-doubt.

You wanted to hug him, to pull him closer till all those awful thoughts leave his head, till he sees at himself like how you see him, incredibly brave and determined.

But you didn't, you stayed there on the couch as he put his shoes on. His eyes pleading for you to say something, anything. To tell him to stay, to come sit near you. He even looked at you one last time before opening the door.

As you stared at him in silence, the realisation that you don't even remember what you were fighting about hit you, you can't, how could you? The minute the door closed behind him is when you realised how real the situation is.

How quiet the house is.

Has it always been this cold?

And just how much worried you are about him.

It hasn't been a full minute and you're missing him already.

—

It's 4am

It's hours since he left, how much exactly? You can't even remember.

Still haven't moved from the couch, you're not sure what you're feeling, you've been going through different emotions each hour.

Guilt, sadness, regret, anger, denial, pessimism, you name it.

It doesn't matter, none of that really matters to you right now. It's Armin who you've been worried about for a while that matter.

You know for a fact Eren and Mikasa aren't the most emotionally open people, you know Armin is already struggling with letting out his emotions without feeling needless guilt or shame.

You know he needs someone right now, he needs a shoulder to cry on and a reassuring voice. You've been both these things for him since even before you got together.

Just like he has been these things for you too. You need that someone just as much now. You didn't even know it's possible to feel this lonely.

Is he also thinking about you? Is he sleeping soundly on Eren’s couch? Or is that one stain from last week's party bothering him?

...is he just as miserable as you are right now? Probably not, you think. He's far stronger than he gives himself credit for, you know that better than everyone else.

Your thought process gets interrupted by a buzz from your phone, a text. Your eyes light up, you pull the blanket you dragged from the bed tighter around you, it's Armin.

[ hey ] it said, [is it okay if i call you?]

You reply back, he starts typing again, you stare at those three dots like your life depends on them.

[Okay, give me a minute please ]

You pull the phone closer to you, it's brightness contratsing against the dark living room. Some minutes pass...nothing, you feel your heartbeat rising. Phone still clutched in your hands.

It rings, it doesn't get past the second ring before you've pressed the accept button. You can hear the wind on the other side, alongside the distant sound of passing cars. Your heart only slows down after hearing the fimilar and oh so lovely sound of soft breathing

Suddenly the world doesnt seem so dim anymore.

"Sorry, it took more time than i thought, Eren keeps his keys in really weird places...I hope i didn't make you worry"

Oh If only he knew..

Dozens of possible replies run through your mind.

I missed you, did you miss me too?

Please come back, I hate feeling this lonely.

How does it feel to take my heart and run away?

Was your voice always this captivating or am i just high on sleep-deprevation?

I miss your kisses, i wish i could feel your lips against mine. Could you kiss me through the phone?

...in the end, you settle for "It's okay" you say, "It's alright."

"That's good...hey listen." You listen, "I'm not going to skirt around the subject, i called because" he takes a deep breath, "i want to apologise for how i acted, for what i said, both to you and myself."

Hearing him admit to his faults and own up to his mistakes, fills you with courage to do the same. You apologise, you mention how you've been thinking about him, you leave out the embarrassing parts.

You tell him you love him, and miss him.

You're met with silence. So you call out his name.

"Wait..you're not mad at me?" He says.

What? Mad? You?

"No." You say. "Why would you think that?"

You hear a chuckle that evolves into a laugh, it's contagious.

"Fuck...oh god I'm...im so stupid, i left because I thought you were mad and didn't bother you more by making you look at me." Even he seems to realise just how ridiculous that concept is.

It's 5am now, you're both laughing over the phone. The world is good again.

You ask if he's mad at you.

He instantly replies with a no.

"I could never be mad at you..." he says, "I love you so much it hurts. I love you like I've never loved anyone else before that it terrfies me, I'm scared one day I'll wake up and you won't be beside me anymore, you've made me love myself in ways i never though i would, you made me believe in myself because you believed in me."

{ Headcanons }

After an argument, Armin tries giving both of you space to calm down.

It doesn't last long because he will approach you after and talk about his emotions and explains why he did the things he did. He will also apologise for the things he did wrong like yelling or saying something hurtful.

If you give him the okay, he will instantly hug you. Physical touch is a great comfort for him so don't expect him letting you go anytime soon.

He will hold your face gently, tell you how much he missed you despite it being only hours.

Doesn't even care about the argument anymore or attempt to bring it up, he just wants to make up asap.

You're both gonna have a heartfelt conversation and actually process your emotions together. As a result you two come out stronger and closer after each argument.

He doesn't hold grudges, so he won't ever act passive aggressive after an argument. if he's got a problem he will tell you.

Just 100% honestly and transparency with this golden boy.

Will want to spend more time together post argument, he will really love it if you watch something together or you let him read you something.

Give him love and affaction, he loves you deeply it's actually rare these days.

When you go to sleep on those nights, he will hold you tighter and stroke your back.

He doesn't hold grudges yet he still remembers each fight you had and instead of it being a sour memory, he thinks of it as a learning block. Just a step towards understanding each other more.

Pamper him more after an argument and he will feel so loved, hearts in his eyes as you brush his morning hair.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

HIi!

Victor and MC are a couple? If so, do you know when they started to be and if they mention it in the game?

thanks for answer :3

and sorry for my bad english jajaja

Hello dear anon!

Thank you for the question. I'll answer your question under the cut, in case I mention some spoilers! (・∀・)

-

Umm... I'm not sure if you're asking about if they're a couple in the main story or the dating timeline(?)

◕✧◕ If you're asking about the main story: No. In the main story they're not couples in terms of “romance”. In that regard => romance always takes the backseat in the main story. So, MC is not in a relationship with any of the guys in the main story. They're all really close friends, love in its purest form with some shades - each with their own dynamic with MC (as of S1 CH 36. The scenario becomes different in CH 37).

Although it can get confusing when you notice elements regarding a specific date being mentioned in the main story (For instance: Victor's Dance Date, Airplane Date phone call etc). However, if you follow closely you'll see those dates are from the time when they were getting to know each other. So in terms of main story: you're free to consider them as events behind the scenes or a date in it's entirety, whichever you find more comfortable!

To sum it up: Regarding S1, Victor is head over heels for MC- that doesn't leave a room for ANY question I'll be holding off the essay. I shouldn't be talking about MC's feelings because I don't think even if I do I'm not saying it in an ask. You can slip into my DM and we can discuss LOL PG would ever dare to project that MC cares about one guy more than the other. However I'll say this, by the time we hit the ending of S1, you can see them working together as partners throughout the most part of the story- especially the later chapters. They're ready to sacrifice themselves for the other without a second thought, AND they DO. They trust each other about.... everything. They work through everything they can, together. (and all these get emphasized to the MAX in S2.)

Few of the many notable main story moments and calls:

You can refer to this post for more: ♡

And this bonding results in a very beautiful and angsty ending for the S1 part of their journey, paving the road for an even more powerful and steady “mutual journey” of S2-- without spoiling much.

-

◕✧◕ In regards to the dates: You can consider the dates as a separate timeline with nuances from the main story- since the game has already confirmed the existence of multiple timelines for S1.

In that dating timeline- YES! They've been together for around 3 years now- according the CN timeline. It's hard to estimate exactly when they got together though, since PG never gave us a proper “confession” date. But I suppose I can give you a rough idea of how their relationship progressed.

For some obvious reasons, their relationship took the longest time to hit the road among the other guys x MC - which gave their relationship a VERY steady base though.

Rooftop Date: Victor lets MC know that she has always been the ONLY one, and he will wait HOWEVER long it takes for her to see the light.

New Year's Date: MC visits Victor's parents house (because of an unfortunate event though). She gets to know more about his inner world, and starts to realize she has special feelings for him too. Victor kisses on her eyes.

Lantern Date: MC invites Victor to the lantern festival, although she isn't still very sure of her feelings. Victor once again lets her know how he has searched for her for 17 years and how his wish has finally come true.

Doomsday Date: MC tries to figure out about Victor's feelings for her and he makes the promise that he'll be with her till the end of the world. *AND HE KEEPS THAT PROMISE TILL THE VERY END SOBS*

Discovery Date: In this date we get the first hint that they've started dating. The ending of the date and it's epilogue:

Qixi Festival Date: We get the confirmation they are already dating, and MC kisses on Victor's *Adam's apple.*

Rainy Date: MC takes Victor to the Taoist Temple to pray for her fate of love and Victor once again promises to be with her *forever.*

Maze Date: They tacitly reach the conclusion that they'll always walk towards the same destination and end up with each other. No matter how rugged the path is, they'll find each other in the end and walk through it together.

Warm Winter Date: The first date where MC uses the word “love” (爱) to define her feelings for Victor. And another promise that- any amount of time or space cannot separate them.

Dazzling Date: MC takes the initiative for their very first kiss. After making sure MC really wants what she started, Victor reciprocates her action.

And thus~ the intimate part of their journey together officially hits the road!

And this got way too longer than I expected it'd be. I sincerely apologize for that. But I hope it answered your question. And your English is fine!~ (◠‿◠)♡

[fluffi]

SARCOLINE SUNSET I: WELCOME HOME, OUTSIDER :: SOOBIN

pairing: soobin x gn!reader, platonic!ot5 x gn!reader genre: fluff, some subjective angst, bits of humor, enemies-to-lovers, childhood friends word count: 4002 event: #summerscape for @kpopscape credit: @enha-woodzies​ for making the gfx for this series! show her some love <3 author’s note: i accidentally deleted this post so here is a rushed reupload. it might not be as good as the original because it isnt proof read as well but i still hope the algorithm picks it up, maybe this’ll be good for the post. Also, the second part will be coming out in 15 days. warnings: people disappearing, mentions of burning and fire (further warnings will be released in the next parts as the story gets darker)

THIS STORY IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT DICTATE JAY OR NI-KI’S PERSONAL LIVES AND/OR FAMILY.

part two ->

The blonde stared up at an intricately designed structure in awe, walking forward to touch the sides of it and running his calloused hands up and down its rusted carved wedges. It seemed oddly cliche and unrealistic, but he could feel its story. Every touch of the ceramic pillar provided him with emotion that he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The sun hadn’t set yet, but he could make out the faint reflection of it settling in the background. The huge pine trees around him were making conversation with each other; their faint whispers and rustles providing peace to his veins.

So entranced in the scenery of such a mystical place, he forgot to watch out for his younger peer. Kicking back into his senses, he nervously called out, “Riki! You there?” His voice, usually strong and boisterous, laced fear today.

“Don’t worry about me Jay, I’m right behind you. Just climbing this fence..and..there!” Riki let out a grunt as he jumped onto the soft grass, looking at his older friend with an innocent grin.

At the sight of his buddy, Jay visibly loosened. It was clear that he didn’t feel safe in this environment, yet felt entranced to it in some way. Riki caught up to him in a quick jog before standing next to Jay, in awe at the magnificent view that they were spectating for the first and possibly last time.

“Is this…the place you were talking about?” Riki was out of breath from running after his peer. He pats the grassy patch below him before slumping onto it, crossing his legs afterward.

Jay took a seat next to him, setting his canvas satchel and leather jacket next to him. “According to the maps and books, this is the right spot. I just want to see if the myth is true.”

Riki clapped his hands in excitement and turned to face Jay. “We’re staying till the sun sets right? I want to see what the carousel looks like at night! This structure is so fascinating. It must be beautiful out here at night.”

“No, we’re walking back as soon as the sun goes down. I do not want to risk being out here at night. People have disappeared from staying too long and I wouldn’t want to worry your mother.”

Riki visibly slumped and turned back in time to see the last drop of orange dip. It was quiet for a while. The singing birds stopped humming their soulful tunes, yet the whispering trees grew louder, their inaudible gossip echoing in the ears of the two boys.

At nine at night, Riki’s mother would call Jay, heeding no response. She would do the same for his parents and his friends. The only piece of information they could provide was that Jay had brought Riki, in his words, to “a magical place”. With no other vital details they could draw from their son’s peers, Jay and Riki’s family agree to call the local police, reporting two missing people: two minors, one last seen in a brown leather jacket, and a taller one tailing alongside him. Both their hairs were dyed in a striking shade of blonde.

Summer’s heat-blasted onto your skin as soon as you stepped out of your sleek white Toyota. It was good to be back, you supposed. Although it was something that not many people would fawn over, you were ecstatic to be home in town.

Leaving at the mere age of sixteen wasn’t easy. After your parents decided that you were too good for a mediocre high school where people cared more about their body count than grade count, they immediately sent you off to a prestigious boarding school in the big city. You were given three days to pack and say goodbye to your friends, the rest of your family, your world. As excited as you were to study in the evolutionary epicenter of technology, you didn’t like how you had almost no say in this decision.

You didn’t return home from high school even after four years of studying at that mentally draining institution. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to come back, you were just so accustomed to life in the big city that it seemed pointless to return to square one. With the rest of the world finally in your grip (or so you thought), you enrolled in a highly expensive university and received a full-ride scholarship.

Perhaps that was your breaking point. Piles of work that could never be cleared must’ve got to your head. No one out there seemed to care about your mental health and well-being. The only reason you were allowed to take a break from the university and return was because of your constant breakdowns that your lecturers called “distracting” and “unethical”. You were hoping that this drop-by in town would give you a physical and mental cleanse.

There was no place as hot as home, from where you had been. The blazing sun scorched onto the road. Carrying baggage by itself was already hard enough, but this heat was immensely torturing. You struggled to carry your belongings while trying to close the car boot at the same time. Oh, a pity. You had just returned home and you were slowly turning into a bundle of disorganization, unlike your previous methodical attitude.

“Need a hand?” A familiar suede voice behind your shoulder sounded like music to your ears as you dropped all of your luggage and turned back to see…

“Taehyun!” Child best friend number one. You were looking at a once-innocent boy with doe eyes who had matured into a fine young man. His hair was dyed platinum blonde and, although younger than you, possessed a flair that was completely unlike his past self. His facial features were more prominent than ever and you wondered if all of your friends had developed as well as he had.

You locked your arms around his neck and embraced him as he took your baggage from you.

“You’re so tall now!” You gasped in awe and looked him up and down.

“Of course I am! A boy has to grow, doesn’t he?”

Speak of the devil(s), four people tagged behind Taehyun, waiting for you to notice their presence. All of them were just as tall (if not taller) than your blonde friend and stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t just the height, their hair was also in very...exciting colors.

“Can’t believe you forgot about us just for Taehyun.” Ah, that nasal voice was so recognizable. Choi Yeonjun, second-best friend. You cherished him like he was your secret weapon, a power waiting to be unleashed into your industrial world. Although older than Taehyun, they seemed to be the same height now. You couldn’t tell because his new neon pink hair was waxed slick and puffy which made him look a teensy bit taller than his younger friend. You had seen him around on social media and he was a hair-changing chameleon.

Alongside Yeonjun was Hueningkai, better known as Kai in the friend group. He was the youngest one, constantly babied and spoiled, you could say. He was probably influenced by the rest of his friends too, his hair now in a mossy shade of blonde. 

Poor Yeonjun, you completely disregarded his existence and dashed over to Kai instead, eagerly standing next to him to compare heights. The kid had grown so much, you couldn’t tell if you were contented that he was now taller than you or dejected that you had missed so much when you weren’t around.

“Hey, wait up!” Someone from behind called. With Hueningkai and Yeonjun blocking your view you couldn’t see who that one person walking next to Choi Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu, the last friend who joined the friend group. He was always a comedian and never failed to make your day. Although, he didn’t seem so smiley anymore. You figured that it was school stress and adulting getting the best of him. We all had those days; you regrettably knew them like you knew the back of your hand . Unlike the rest of his friends, Beomgyu’s hair was kept in a natural shade of ivory brown. He had never been swayed by the rest of the crowd.

There were so many things to do, so many people to see. You had missed out on most of your growing: having fun with friends, staying up late at night just to watch the stars, dancing on your balcony. You had missed the people too. The town felt different from when you had left it.

“Soobin! Don’t just stand behind, meet our friend! They just returned from the city, right?” Beomgyu ran over to you before giving you a little squeeze.

Who’s Soobin?

“Hey, I’m Choi Soobin. Twenty-one this year. I moved here a few years ago. You must have left before I showed up.” A simple and concise introduction from the blue-haired man. Maybe he was the root of this hair-dyeing trend in town (pun very much intended), as well as the height trend since he was just as tall, if not taller than the rest of the boys.

You briefly introduced yourself but that was about it. You didn’t know how to create small talk, nonetheless with someone completely unfamiliar to you.

Later that day, you wondered if he had replaced you, become another guardian in the friend group. As one of the oldest, you and Yeonjun were always known as the parents of your three “kids”, but Soobin seemed to take care of them equally well. Throughout the day, you watched his every action, how he helped Beomgyu with homework, how he styled Kai’s hair, how he treated Taehyun to his favorite meal, exactly like what you did when you were still around. For once, you felt like the outsider.

Marshmallow Night had always been a tradition here. It was a five-of-you kind of thing, well, the six-of-you now. It had always been the go-to celebration whenever one of you hit a milestone, or was just held for fun. The days of joy where the only thing you had to worry about was whether your smores were burnt.

It had changed a lot over the years, you guys would add some new events to it and remove the ones you guys outgrew, like hopscotch.

You had missed most of its evolution.

Instead of being the main catalyst for today’s event, you resorted to sitting at the side as Soobin took the lead, carrying tables back and forth as well as setting up the fire in a method that the five of you had never used.

Oh, how much you loathed him. You hated his innocent-looking face that spurred out words of authority and boastfulness. You couldn’t stand how he looked so obnoxious with his bright blue hair, his dark brown eyes that held an impeccable gleam. He looked so cheeky, so mean, and worst of all, he had made all of your friends convert to mini spawns of him. Even Yeonjun, the oldest member, no longer felt like the Choi Yeonjun you once knew.

If you could, you would throw him out of your hometown, except that you seemed to be the outsider here. Anyone who walked past would see five people sitting on a huge log, helping each other light marshmallows and biscuits. They would barely notice the one person hunched over on the other side, sitting on the ground, eyes dazed and uninterested.

Occasionally one of the boys would call out to you, either hand you a s’more or ask if you were alright, to which you responded, “I’m alright! Don’t worry about me, I’m having fun.”

Anyone could also see that you weren’t in the zone, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and be a party pooper. You ended up spending most of the time scrolling on your phone, checking school emails, and such. It didn’t feel like you were back home, it felt like you were on a vacation, on your own.

The commotion had died down, for the most part. Everyone else was either discussing school gossip in hushed voices or making the most of use of their electronic device. You were tempted to join the little heated conversation that Soobin and Beomgyu were having, but you didn’t know who this ‘Chaeyeon’ girl was and either way, you wouldn’t want to voluntarily speak to Choi Soobin.

It wasn’t long before both of them went to do something else, the only sound prevalent being the wood crackling from the bonfire and the occasional chirp of evening birds.

It was a loud, sucked-in breath that drew the attention of everyone, eyes pinned onto the instigator.

Choi Soobin, once again disrupting the peace of this curated environment. He ducked his head in apology and you were about to return to your world when Kai’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Why did you just do that?” His booming voice resounded over everyone else.

You weren’t going to lie, you were curious too. It wasn’t every day you heard a gasp like that.

Soobin looked back up, eyes wide and awake. He was excited about something but seemed to be masking it for the sake of..suspense?

“Okay. You guys know Yongsam Park right?” He put his phone down and tapped his hands on his thighs in a state of urgency.

Now that statement got everyone’s attention. “It’s the flower place outside our town, everyone passes it when they enter. Of course we would know where the place is. Why are you so adamant about it?” Taehyun inquired.

“Well, have any of you gone inside the park? Or near the landmark in general?”

“No. Why would we? There’s nothing to do there than to take pictures of boring flower statues.” You stated.

“See. You guys don’t know anything about the place.” He smirked tilting his head upwards and proudly crossing his arms.

“Could you cut to the chase and tell us what it is already?” Thank Yeonjun for his smart, impatient mouth.

Soobin didn’t answer and merely flipped his phone so you could see whatever was on it. The only words you could make out were “Yongsam...missing...carnival” and something related to the park before he turned it back, away from your view.

“You can’t just say that we don’t know anything about this place then proceed to give us nothing about it.” You rolled your eyes, disinterested in the conversation once again.

“Fine. I’ll send it to you.” Soobin rolled his eyes back as four of the other boys snickered. They loved seeing the two of you bicker.

In courtesy of Beomgyu who gave Soobin your number (without your consent), you received a news article and skimmed through it with eager eyes:

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

YONGSAM PARK CURRENTLY UNDER INVESTIGATION, AUTHORITIES SAY 3 days ago

What’s the deal with Yongsam Park? Insiders say that, although bland and boring, Yongsam Park is currently under high-level investigation for the disappearance of a few citizens. The flower-decorated park is the perfect place to take Instagram-worthy pictures and is quite harmless in itself, so visitors were shocked to arrive at the park only to find it surrounded by heaps of yellow tape.

Yongsam Park was developed by Kim Yongsam, director of My Flowers, a multi-million florist franchise that has now spread to Japan and Taiwan. In a 2015 Interview with the millionaire, he mentioned that he had created the park in the inspiration of the rising ootd picture trend, also known as the outfit-of-the-day trend, which he had initially discovered from his teen daughter. 

“I wanted to create a welcoming park for people of all ages, but I couldn’t find a suitable place to do it without the budget being drastically high. In the end, my team and I found an abandoned site and decided to build a simple structure with lower costs up there. Props to my team for the discovery of this landmark. The scenery there, especially in the evening, is stunning .” He stated in the 2015 interview with Soup Magazine.

What’s the abandoned site? With the evidence that is still standing, Yongsam Park is rumored to have previously been a carnival. Said evidence is a worn-down carousel in the back of the park, along with piles of other burnt carnival decoration and equipment. With research, Yongsam Park’s site may have once been an abandoned carnival that perished from an unknown wildfire. This may have been the primary cause of the drought that ensued in the 80s, leaving only a carousel and ashes behind. When questioned, Mr. Kim said that he had decided to leave the carousel standing behind the park due because he felt ‘drawn by its alluring glow’, as quoted.

Investigators and the local police have only enclosed the flower section of Yongsam Park because that was where the victims were spotted. They believe that disappearances took place there and are currently trying to find evidence to back up their stance. Most of this new information is not known to the public, however, Kim and his team are trying to keep it that way. The current disappearance count is seven people, the most recent case being two high-schoolers.

The carousel is still open and does not require a visitor ticket, but visitors are advised to take precautions and leave before the sun sets.

RELATED

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

FAMILY OF TOURISTS DISAPPEAR AT YONGSAM PARK, INSIDERS SAY THIS IS THE SECOND CASE OF DISAPPEARANCE HERE 2 weeks ago

JAPANESE COUPLE DISAPPEAR AT FLOWER PARK, NETIZENS CALL THE NEWS A POLITICAL DISTRACTION 3 weeks ago

“Are you seriously...telling us...that we should visit a place where people have been kidnapped?” Yeonjun gawked. “Dude, that’s so stupid. What if we die or something?”

“Don’t say that! I was just curious if you guys wanted to go since it’s so near and since your old friend is back home.”

“It’s a dumb move. I’m not risking my life just so I can celebrate the return of my friend. Not worth it.” Beomgyu huffed.

“Hey! You’re worth it, right?” Soobin glanced at you, waiting for a response.

He was...defending you? His ulterior motives were questionable and you weren’t sure if he was protecting you because he cared about you (cue the puking) or solely because he wanted to go to Yongsam Park that bad.

You didn’t reply and chose to drown out the wailing and chaos that ensued with your friends. You clicked on a related article below, curious to learn more about this lesser-known part of the park.

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

Park Jongseong (20) and Nishimura Riki (15) mentioned to their friends that they would be heading to ‘a magical place’, before disappearing for around a week. They were last spotted walking through Yongsam Park, according to anonymous witnesses. This is the third case of disappearances at the park and both teens are the sixth and seventh people to go missing.

Both families reported their children missing just two days after their disappearance. With this case being the last straw, local authorities forcibly shut down Yongsam Park despite protests from staff and management.

Parents of the two minors refused to respond when called for an interview and HYBE reporters resorted to interviewing the victims’ friends instead.

“Jay’s never been a bad kid. Yeah, he might be late here and there, but he wouldn’t skip class or fly across the country for vacation during school. I just don’t understand why he’s not here with us. He wouldn’t voluntarily disappear.” Park Sunghoon (19), a friend and classmate of Jongseong (who is better known as Jay among his friends) said.

“Although I’m not close with Jay, I know Riki personally and I know for a fact that both of them wouldn’t run away like that. Why, Riki was gearing up for a dance competition that he’s been excited about all year, and now he’s just gone? Like that? Riki has always been like my little brother, and he’ll always be. I just want him back at my side.” A teary-eyed Lee Heeseung (20) says.

Netizens have been complaining about the lack of coverage on this issue.

“Maybe Mr. Kim spent all his money on covering this story up from the mainstream public. That’s why he had to build the stupid park on an abandoned sketchy site.” An anonymous netizen commented.

Regardless, we’ll be keeping our prayers for Jongseong and Riki, as well as the five other victims, to return home soon.

“...you guys are such wimps.” That was the first thing you heard Soobin say when you tuned in to the conversation again.

How dare he say that? How dare he have the courage to call you, someone who moved out on your own at 16 to live in the big, scary world, a..wimp?

“Look, Choi Soobin. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a wimp. I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested on this trip.” You stand up and blurt out without thinking twice.

The rest of the boys are gawking at you, their mouths open wide in awe and shock. Yes, you weren’t a wimp, that was for sure, but they had known you all their life as someone who could not stand going out into the wilderness. Maybe the big city had really changed you.

“At least someone wants to go! Perfect. We can leave tomorrow at noon, bring your camping stuff!” Soobin grabbed his things and began walking away.

“Camping?” The five of you exclaimed in unison.

Taehyun, the rational member, gasped. “I, personally, wouldn’t mind going to the carousel thing..or whatever it is, but I am not staying the night. Dude, are you nuts?” The rest of you nodded your heads in agreement.

“It says in the article that we are advised to leave before the sun sets.” You point out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible in fear of breaking this mask of false confidence, when in reality, you were terrified of this place.

Soobin turned back and eyed you down disinterestedly. “Conclusion is that we’ll bring a small backpack, or whatever you guys want to pack, and we’ll stay there until eight. Deal?”

“Seven.” Hueningkai timidly said.

“Whatever you guys want.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It wasn’t due to fear of the place you were going, rather, you weren’t too excited about having to spend half of your day around Soobin.

What were you going to say to him? You were definitely overthinking at this point.

You know, they always say that the person one hates the most is the one that they also love most. And when Soobin flipped his blue hair back or cheekily smiled, showing his endearing dimples, you couldn’t help but…

No! You loathe Choi Soobin. You couldn’t stand his smile, or his hair, or his height. That evil moonwitch.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Speak of the devil (or moonwitch), you spotted a fluff of blue hair in your peripheral vision.

You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back at him, merely nodding your head while staring at the white wall.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? Are you...scared?” You could see him wiggle his eyebrows as he made that statement.

That was it. You turned back at him. “Yes I am. I’m absolute terrified. I can’t stand the fact that I have to forcibly spend my precious time around you. It’s like I’m about to voluntarily live a nightmare.”

Woah there, calm down. You had smoke spurting out of your ears at this point.

Soobin’s once excited face fell into one of disappointment. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare having to be around you too. Gosh, the immaturity.” He left the room in haste as your eyes shot lasers through his well-toned back.

Maybe you had gone too far with the insult. He hadn’t been mean to you at all, really.

Then again, he had been mean. He took your place when you weren’t around. Suddenly, you were determined to get it back.

“Hop on the magic school bus!”

“Shut up, Yeonjun.” You deadpanned before leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you were finally falling back into routine and you couldn’t help but bask in this nostalgia.

You also couldn’t help but notice how Soobin kept on looking through the rearview mirror at the both of you, pupils darting away once you locked eyes with him.

Man, this was going to be a long ride.

2021 © fluffi

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sam Holland - Don't Tell

A/N & WC - This is not meant to glorify or condone adultery in any way. I do not know Sam, nor do I claim to, this is a work of fiction. This was written before Sam posted about a new girlfriend: no disrespect is meant towards her. I do not believe Sam would do this: it is fictitious. 3.5k.

Warnings - Adultery, explicit smut, unprotected sex, swearing, reader is the other woman, swearing, brief allusions to SA. 18+.

Summary - When Sam booty calls you, you can't deny him, but will sexual satisfaction be enough? Or will you always want from him what you know you can't have?

THIS WASN’T HOW YOU’D PLANNED to spend your Saturday afternoon, but Sam called, and who were you to deny him?

‘Come over at 3.’ He texted you. ‘She’s leaving then.’

No kisses, no emojis, no frills, no sign off, nothing. You’re just a nameless number in his phone. You knew what it meant. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so you know the drill, it’s just not exactly pleasant.

With ample time, you left your house, your new place only a couple of streets over from the Holland household, and you walked as inconspicuously as possible. Your coat wrapped tightly around you, you refused to make eye contact with anyone on the whole walk there.

You know the drill so well by now that you know not to stick to the front of the house, but instead to head around the back—straight into his bedroom window—via the bins. Theoretically, with no one home and Sam in the living room, you could walk in the front door, but his room is safest since she has always refused to enter—’just in case.’

Your heart thuds against your chest while you hold your breath, praying not to be heard downstairs the second your feet land on his floor. You press yourself flat against the wall behind Sam’s door, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in your body clenched to the maximum. You’ve trained yourself to stay so quiet that the only sounds are your pounding, racing heart and the blood rushing in your ears.

Thankfully, before cramp can override you, you hear the words that give you the all clear.

“Bye, love!” he calls down the driveway, followed by a half hearted air kiss, a deafening crunching on the gravel driveway, and the front door at last clicking shut.

Your body finally relaxes, limbs falling loosely around you while you release one of the longest held breaths you’ve ever had.

You creak open Sam’s bedroom door, ready for him to meet you, and shrug your coat off, throwing it on the floor alongside your converse when you hear him coming upstairs. He gets like this, heavy steps and heaved breaths like they’re a strain on his body, and it usually means he’s extra horny.

“What took so long, lover boy?” you tease, standing scantily clad in his door frame, leaning against the painted wood.

His eyes darken with lust as he approaches you, his shadow from the landing already overpowering.

This isn’t like any sex or ��relationship’ you’ve ever been in before. It’s risky, and that risk makes it so much hotter. Always leaving the door open just a crack so that the two of you could be found only by those closest to Sam, the chance of being caught together in the street on the off chance you go for drinks; after all, your reputation precedes you. But it’s the adulterous element of your relationship that makes it so fun. The fact that it’s usually after his girlfriend leaves that you’re called over to relieve his not-so-little ‘problem’, the little marks you trail across the hidden parts of his body, occasionally being risky enough to plant one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder just to test the waters.

After being together for over two years, she still refuses to do anything with him. Of course you respect such a thing: if she wants to wait till marriage and is able to resist Sam for that long, props to her. It’s just not always ideal for all party members. Sure, they’ve kissed, a little groping, but by this point, with how little Sam's lass has done with him, he’s immensely riled up.

He really likes his girlfriend, of course he does, and he’s spoken to her about this time and time again, asking why they couldn’t just do something more than a PG-12 touching session. She simply shook her head and smiled every time, “I’m saving myself for marriage, Sammy.” This infuriated him hugely. He’s been with a girl or two (or ten) before her, so is very expectant, but being twenty-two has its burdens. He isn’t anywhere near ready for marriage, but is increasingly sexually frustrated. So after an insane year of getting by with absolutely no action apart from the rare lap dance and make out, he knew he had to do something besides use his own hand to relieve the tension that was making him a complete prick.

He respects his girlfriend enough not to pressure her. Sam isn’t a bad person and so he isn’t going to coerce his girlfriend into sex she doesn’t want, seeing it as utterly immoral, so he did the only thing he could think of, and turned to the girl next door, quite literally. Not that it’s any more moral, but here you are.

As soon as he reaches you, the smirk etched upon his face is perfect, just what you expect, and his hands grip your waist tightly.

“You think you’re so cheeky,” he smirks, and his lips crash onto yours the next moment, his hands spanning your sides. His affection halts as he smacks the side of your ass. “I’ll show you cheeky.”

You don’t let him get another word in before you’re kissing him again, furiously this time, hooking one leg around his waist as the other flies to his neck, your clasp anything but gentle.

You’ve known of the Holland family for a while, living a street away, going to school with the boys and your mother having ‘neighbourhood meetings’ with the family. You, however, had had nothing to do with them, never getting involved in their ordeals, not really.

Keeping a resolutely ‘good girl’ demeanour all through school was difficult, especially when you wanted to rebel so earnestly. The first step was house parties, beginning when you were in year ten, everyone getting shit-faced and ending up giving sloppy hand-jobs in someone’s downstairs loo. That much you weren’t a fan of, so you waited until the end of school, A-Levels secured to be who you wanted to be. Trench coats, docs and chucks at every turn, short shorts and fishnets. Lots of hair dye came next, followed by a ‘scandalous’ collection of piercings, and a significant body count for someone your age, or so conservative old women perceived. Fuck them, your body your choice.

Times changed in a year and a half, though not that much. Mid way through your rebellion, you got a good job, your own place, and became a call girl, essentially. Sam’s call girl only, considering your regrettable soft spot for him.

You couldn’t care less though, even though it’s adulterous, Sam is incredible in bed. He frequently tells you the same.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, “even when she was kissing me I could only think of you.” His lips are inches from yours with your breath mingling in the confined space of his doorway as you pant.

He hasn’t touched you yet, or even moved you to the bed. You feel yourself blush a little, scared fractionally by what he’s saying but mostly flattered. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It makes you feel like your old self is creeping in again, the girl next door that no one fell for.

“I like it when you get all shy on me, really naïve, shows me you’re a human and not just a sex goddess. My sex goddess.”

You pull his lips to yours with a burning passion, desperate to feel him up against you. Your palms settle this time on Sam's cheeks, angling his face to get the most out of the kiss, and your hold remains resolute so that he can’t pull away easily. This isn’t your dominance though, simply a ploy to hide your flushed cheeks from his prying eyes, the blush that’s been caused by his kind words. You want to keep him here long enough that you can claim the blush is from the breathlessness and the actions of his tongue slipping inside your mouth with an urgency you haven’t felt with him for a while. Is this the day that changes everything?

He backs you to the bed, walking unsteadily, and pushes you down onto the springy mattress. It pitches beneath you as he joins you, sitting by your side, his hand gravitating towards your thigh.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, a slight hesitant stammer to your words.

“Nothing,” he sulks. “Just dunno how long I can keep doing this.”

His baleful eyes hover over your decolletage, and before you can protest and try to get him to open up about the whole situation, discussing the fact that maybe you should just quit while you’re ahead and come clean (because to be fair, it’s beginning to weight on your conscience too, even though you’ve never met said girlfriend), he kisses you, pinching your nipple through your bra until it forms a pebbled bud.

“Gonna take it all out on you,” he hisses, moving his kisses to your jaw. “All this pent up need from missing your body. God, feel so good beneath me.”

He swings a leg over to straddle your legs, and begins a ferocious attack on your neck with his teeth. You’ll have fun at work tomorrow, trying to hide them from your co-workers, one of them (on a temp basis, at least) being Sam’s twin. Harry cottoned on pretty easy, and won’t say a word, because he doesn’t want to deal with Sam’s temper when he’s been denied sex for too long. He likes Sam’s girlfriend, sure, but she doesn’t compromise on anything and looks down her nose at the lot of them, so he considers it fair play. And besides, with his track record, he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Unwittingly, your hips buck up to meet his, feeling his throbbing need pressing against your pelvis, only for him to draw his body away from you, a bruising kiss being pressed to your lips the next moment. All in a flurry, your top is pulled down, your chest revealed to him.

“Bloody love your tits,” he purrs, a feral grin contorting his freckled face.

He rolls your pert bud between the rough pads of his fingers, palming at the other breast so as not to neglect it, only swapping when you’re beginning to writhe under him. His grin only increases.

“Sam… please.”

He knows what you want when you whine that way, so he sits up on his shins, and lets you tear his shirt open. Button by button, you watch as every inch of his pale chest is bared to you, his happy trail coaxing you lower.

“Get on with it, then,” he warns, clamping a hand around your hair in order to control your movements. He does this a lot, it’s his main power move. “They’re too damn tight now you’re around.”

You can definitely see that, the denim of his jeans pulled taut around his torso, the waistband of his boxers peeking above. He begins to pluck at your nipples again while you fumble with his buckle and zip, eventually tugging both items of clothing down at once. He stands, his lanky frame just a blur of white and freckles as he removes every last item, prowling back to you on the bed.

You, however, have other ideas, tugging him down with a grip on his shoulders until he’s helpless beneath you. In the time he was distracted with shucking his jeans off at last, you peeled your own shirt off and put your bra right. Sam’s a boob man, always has been, and takes great pleasure in fastening and unfastening your bras as much as he can, nestling into your chest for the time you spend together.

Since your last rodeo, you’ve gained some weight, and filled out a tad more, something Sam seems to notice right about now, especially as your chest hovers just inches from his face.

“Well? Are you gonna stare at them all day or take it off?”

This man… this man has the fucking audacity to lick his lips as one hand works on the hooks at the back of your bra, the other skimming the edges of the cups before it falls into his hands and he flings it across the room, knocking something off his dresser.

As soon as it's out of his way, he seems to forget everything apart from you, his eyes mesmerised by your chest, his mouth gaping a little, his eyes lingering on your hardened nipples for perhaps just a moment too long. You sigh to yourself, letting your knees dig into his navy comforter before your fingers wrap around his hand and place it onto your right breast. You know that, if you let him stare long enough, you’ll get nothing done. You need this release as much as he does. He takes the message, though, and begins kneading the flesh with a need you haven’t seen from him before. You even catch a wolfish grin when your face contorts into a silent ‘o’, overcome with pleasure. He tweaks your one nipple, and leans up to capture the other in his kiss-swollen lips, lavishing kisses around the sensitive area. You can’t help your nails leaving faint scratch marks in their wake over his freckled shoulders, tracing the silhouettes beneath his skin of muscle and bone, finding constellations within the freckles until he’s quaking beneath your delicate touch…

“Why’re you being such a tease?” he whines.

He has a point, you’re grinding down on his clothed cock in tandem with his playing with your boobs, your core hovering over his hard member, but it’s only fair with the stimulation he’s offering you. Just to shut him up, in one swift move you pull his boxers down and reach down to grasp him, stroking a couple of times before inching down, swallowing his aching length into your welcoming, warm walls.

Your moans create a heavenly sympathy, even as you stop for a moment to adjust to his size a little more, placing your hands on his pecs before grinding down on him. His hips begin to move, thrusting upwards and into you, finding a satisfying pace in tandem for you both as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow.

“Baby…” he moans, reaching out with his lips puckered to wrap them around your exposed nipple, suckling viciously, hard enough to hurt just a little.

“Stand up,” you command authoritatively, with a softness to your tone despite.

He grows harder inside of you, barely suppressing a groan, but his plan fails from shock when you bend over, clenching the foot of his bed so tightly your knuckles begin to turn white.

Casting a sensual glance over your shoulder, you bat your lashes and coax him the only way you know how, a wiggle of your bum added to help convince him; “Fuck me, Sammy…”

Your gasp is shrill and loud when he enters your craving core from behind, your knees nearly buckling when a stream of expletives falls from his lips once he grabs your hips, settling there. You’re sure to have hand-shaped imprints there tomorrow, but you don’t care, and apparently neither does Sam as he continues to thrust into you at an inhuman pace.

Breathy moans escape your lips as your nails find purchase in the sheets, now crumpled in your clenched fists. The only thing that fills your ears other than skin slapping against skin is the myriad of colourful words spilling from Sam in a groan, right down your ear.

“y/n… please…” he hums nonsensically, his lips finding their way to your shoulder blade and neck, kissing you, suckling.

He’s such a hypocrite: one rule for him, one rule for you, just because he’s got a girlfriend and is too pussy to break up with her even though his needs aren’t being met. For a brief moment, your body being used for his pleasure—and bringing you simultaneous heavenly satisfaction—you’re able to forget the consequences of your fornications.

They slip your mind once again the second one of his rough hands slowly makes its way down your front, finding your clit as he begins to rub harsh circles on it.

“Fuck…” you cry out, only for the heel of that hand to press into your pelvis, the other snaking around to your neck, applying the faintest pressure. Your walls tighten around him at the double stimulation.

His hips begin to move faster, blissful moans filling the room in symphony as you both near your highs, his tip grazing your special spot on every single thrust.

“C’mon,” he purrs in your ear, “can feel how close you are…” the pressure on your engorged pearl becomes a constant, and your body begins to spasm with unbridled pleasure. “Come.”

You do, and fireworks spark behind your eyes, setting off a train reaction in your brain, your walls clenching and your body collapsing, chest first, onto the edge of the bed. You must’ve cried out at some point, but your scream became but a gasp with his hand snug around your throat.

His thrusts slow, and he aids you onto the bed by your waist, but you roll away from him, aware that he hasn’t climaxed yet. He follows you down as your fingers link around his neck, but he’s not satisfied with that—as the smirk playing on his lips, causing dimples in his freckles, tells you—so he hovers above you on his knees. The hairs on his shins grate against the duvet cover so he shifts, but your hands move from his neck to his cheeks, pulling him closer to tangle your tongues together. His erection teases your wet folds while you’re lost in the movements of your mouths, and before you know it, he’s entering you again, and your hands are getting lost in his dark, silky locks, his one hand roughly kneading your breast. His thrusts recommence at a slower pace than before, his heels digging into the mattress as his groans overpower yours in the otherwise silent room.

“Shit… oh my God—” he hisses.

He begins to move faster, so you tug at his hair, revelling in the praises he offers, eliciting various heavy moans from his preoccupied mouth in between kisses. His warm breath and the resverberation of the moan vibrate across your lips, causing your hips to rock further into his, your legs wrapping around his toned torso to give him better access to your eager core. His movements become deeper as your breathing becomes even more escalated with high pitched moans tearing from your throat each time he hits your g-spot so perfectly. The knock-on effect sends him into an even more euphoric state, and before you know it, he’s groaning your name down your ear, and painting your walls white.

“Yes, Sammy…”

Your nails leave scratch marks all over his back from the sheer height of pleasure you’re experiencing, and that seems to be what sent him over the edge, his cum seeping into you as you milk his cock. He throbs inside you, his pelvis hitting you perfectly as he thrusts lazily while emptying himself. With one final press of his long, skilled thumb and digits over your sensitive nipple and a harsh bite to your pulse point just below your ear, the bundle of lust in your stomach becomes undone as you finish once again.

Before you’re fully recovered, he’s pulling out and leaving you empty as you lie together for a moment on opposite sides of the bed, no contact other than your pinky fingers linked and overlapping in between you. Except… despite the pleasure, you’re not satisfied. Not at all. And you know, in your heart, that this can’t happen again.

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“As fucking if,” you mumble.

“You ok?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes, just fine,” you snap, and roll off the bed, beginning to ferret around for your clothes.

“y/n, no…” Sam moves to grapple for you, “why are you leaving?”

“Because I’m done being treated like shit by you. Used as your fuck-toy when you’re too much of a pussy to deal with your girlfriend… I’m done, Sam.”

He’s up and off the bed, shucking his jeans on with great force that causes him to trip back onto the bed as you adjust your top and zip your skirt back up.

“y/n!”

“What!” you bellow right back at him.

He shuffles his feet on the carpet, and moves to speak, but his jaw just hangs open like a fish, nothing coming out.

“Yeah, I’m done here, Sam. Don’t booty-call me again.”

A weary voice from behind you calls out, “Sam?”

Shit.

This is bad. This is very bad. But what can you do? You’re the other woman, he’s the one choosing to commit adultery: why is that your problem? He can deal with his (clearly very angry) girlfriend, so livid she’s shaking, once you’re gone.

“Yeah. Your ‘don’t tell’ plan worked real good, Sammy. Karma’s a bitch,” you spit, spinning on my heels and waltzing out the door.

You mean it: you’re done. At least until he breaks up with her and undoubtedly calls back. You want him, there's no question about that, but you want him all to yourself: and that's a secret you won't tell.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[thompsonstessa-moved]

Måneskin interview for TVN24 - english translation

Few days ago an interview (on video) with Måneskin came out in Poland on TVN24 channel, sadly its paywalled on their site (and the tv only showed a bit).

However, I got a transcript of it and decided to translate it for you guys :D

Also, while the interview took place in Poland (day before the Sopot festival), the interviewer knew italian, so they talked in italian and the TV translated it to polish (and dubbed them!!! :( ). So I hope theres nothing that like, got lost in translation twice.

Also its 2am now so the translation might not be the most perfect, but you'll definitely get the gist of what they were saying!!

The whole thing is under the 'keep reading' :)

First of all – congratulations on the San Remo and Eurovision wins! I just want you to know how happy you made my mom – she listens to your music for 3 years now. How are you feeling today?

D: We feel good, tho we’re tired as well. We travel a lot, but we’re happy. We meet new fans, new opportunities are coming up. It’s really nice.

How did you guys meet? When looking at you, you have this sense of unity and just good vibes. How did it all start?

D: We know each other for a long time.

V: Yeah, Since middle school. Me, Thomas and Damiano were playing in different bands, but they weren’t the best. Thet all disbanded. Then we posted in a facebook group ’looking for a musician in rome’ and found Ethan. Since then we started doing music for real. We devoted ourselves to the music, and… the rest just came naturally.

E: Yes. We knew it’s gonna be our life since day one.

What did you say In the post, when looking for the fourth member of the band?

V: I wrote ”looking for a drummer for an indie rock/new wave band”.

E: That’s true, there was new wave in it too.

I’m sure a lot of people replied.

V: No, actually only Ethan replied. But we found that post lately and now it’s full of comments like „why didn’t i reply back then!”

T: Ethan was really lucky.

What did your parents thought about your choice (to pursue music)? A rockstar lifestyle isn’t exactly what every parent wants for their child.

D: No, our parents are really content with it. They know what we do makes us happy, and of course we visit them whenever we can. And they are proud of us as well, because they see we’re happy and independent, travelling all over the Europe, and hopefully all over the world. I think every parent wants their kid to be satisfied and happy.

And friends? Are you still friends with the same people, or did the friendships fell apart?

D: We still have the same friends. And we’re sure that way that they are our real friends.

Do they understand your current lifestyle, that you can dissapear for a year?

V: Yeah, they all understand that this is our job, that our life is a bit irregular, but, like everything, it has its ups and downs.

E: Exactly, they understand, but they also miss us. Sometimes my mom calls and says ”I miss you, you’ve been gone for so long”. It’s normal. But what’s important is that we feel the support from our families and friends. They understand that you need to sacrifice a lot, to achieve a lot.

Can you still easily go ands grab a beer in the Rome neighbourhoods (districts?) of Pigneto or Trastevere? Or is it impossible now?

V: The only truly safe place for us is Trastevere, because we always lived there. Everyone there knows us and they don’t care we’re famous.

D: But I have to admit that since they whole Eurovision thing we still didn’t come back, so it’s hard to say for sure.

T: But let’s say that its a safe space.

Don’t you worry that now that whole world knows you, you’ll be followed by tourists?

V: Oh my god, you’re right, we didn’t think about it!

D: When we came back to Rome for one day I got excited when one tourist stopped me. ”Cool, I got stopped by a tourist” – now it’s normal.

T: It gives us joy.

V: It’s beautiful.

E: Wonderful.

V: We’re not complaining.

D: Long live the tourists!! (that one was kinda weird to translate)

You started by playing on Via Del Corso, now you’re international stars. I’m wondering, do you still feel the same when playing together as before? Do you have fun making music together? Or do you miss the simpler times and would love to go back to Via del Corso and play something spontaneously?

V: No, we’re still spontaneus. It’s really important for us, and we make sure people who work with us understand that. We’re really adamant about it. Music needs to remain beautiful, spontaneus and natural thing for us. We never worked with someone who would write lyrics for us. No one ever told us what we can and cannot do. We still feel the exact same feelings in studio and on stage that we felt when we were just getting started. It’s the purest thing for us. We want to have fun and feel free to express ourselves.

T: Exactly, especially that music is our driving force. Without music, we wouldn't have all the beautiful things we do. We focus only on music, and the rest comes to us.

Let’s imagine a situation where you just started ma king a song, and everyone has a different idea for it. How do you work that out? And who’s idea wins most of the time?

V: There are two options in this situation: we try every idea, and if none works, we throw the song away.

E: It doesn’t work. (that one is kinda untranslateable?)

V: Or we really work on it and fight till the end.

D: Exactly. Sometimes, but that pretty rare, one of us has a particular idea on how to do the song, and manages to convince us (to the idea). but it’s not an order, it’s a dialogue. An attempt to make everyone think the same way. I need to say that it was much harder in the past, because we were still searching for our sound, and each tried to push the rest into their way of thinking. But now we’re more aware of what we want to create, so it’s coming out in much more natural way.

E: Faster.

D: Not really faster, because it takes a lot of time to create new songs, but it’s easier, we don’t argue that much anymore.

T: It’s really cool, because everyone gives something from themselves to the song. (my brain kinda blanked here, sorry xD) Just like Damiano said, there are days when Vic has one idea for a song, I have another idea, Damiano has his own idea, Ethan as well… But it’s a whole creative process where we all contribute, and it’s pretty stimulating.

D: Everyone feels appreciated. It’s really important when it’s four of us.

What are the biggest signs that you became huge international stars?

V: We really realize that when we’re having concerts. Where we can see our audience and we can see that people really care about us. That they took time and money to listen to us. Now that we’re travelling across Europe, the amount of people stopping us on the streets really shows how many people know about us. People are waiting for us in front of our hotels. We didn’t think it would be like that. But we feel nothing but affection and warmth from them.

How was Eurovision for you from the backstage? Anything atypical?

D: No, it was all great. We played ping-pong.

V: Did rehearsals.

E: Interviews.

D: Yes, interviews. And ping-pong.

When you we’re in Paris, did anyone mention the drug allegations that came from French people during the finale, that kinda became a diplomatic incident?

D: Yeah, you could say that it was mentioned.

They don’t resent you? Or maybe you resent France?

D: No. To feel that about the whole country would be too much of a generalization. Of course there were people who were really vocal about it, but we don’t feel any sort of resentment. It’s in the past for us. We knew they were just primitive accusations. We did what it deserved – talked a bit about it, I volunteered to do the test, and they (the accusators) were sure it had to be false. It got ridiculous, so we just stopped talking about it. We want to talk about out music, our art. The rest is just meaningless.

Right now, LGBTQ rights are a hot topic both in Italy and in Poland. You mentioned freedom of being different and being yourself on several occasions. Do you think you can change the world on this matter as musicians?

D: Maybe not change the world, but we can definitely contribute. Speak the voice of those who can’t. We have a huge following on social media, on stage, on TV, so we feel responsibility to talk about what’s important to us. We hope that something will change because of us, but we don’t consider ourselves as the ones to set the standards of justice and change. We do what we can do, and if we know enough about it, we talk about it. We don’t want to put someone elses words into ours mouths.

[maxenceandrebisset]

Wait what was the lando situation with k? More of the same of her targeting him for attention or was there something else? Seriously like I'm sure she's not an evil person or anything, but who does that!? Pierre could literally have anyone he wanted and it's her!? Sorry not being mean, it's his life etc and maybe they do care about each other, it just seems on odd way to start a relationship

Alright, so quite a lot of people have been asking what exactly was/is the situation with Katerina X Lando X Pierre. Don't worry, I have you back, hopefully understandably enough.

To begin with, I don't blame you for being lost or completely oblivious because it is rather a complicated situation to get properly oriented in if you are not "a professional social media stalker" and not willing to make your research on it as it hasn't really been published in a neat form as a whole anywhere on the official sites so you can't just google it up and click on the first link that pops up on your screen.

Also, it happened quite a while ago as well so it has been in a way overshadowed by the entire Louisa and Croatia summer break situation linked with Lando, which shows up in an overwhelming majority whenever you search up the topic of Lando's "love life" at the moment.

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

The Lando X Katerina thing started already back in August of 2020 when Lando started liking almost every single photo of Katerina's on her Instagram (boy was really out there liking basically all pics, in which Katerina was - you can still see his likes on them up till today).

It wasn't long after when most of the F1 WAGs pages noticed it and people started titling Katerina as Lando's girlfriend without any reasonable proof - up till now, you can see all these lame internet sites calling her Lando's girlfriend, despite her official relationship with Pierre.

In January this year before the season started, all three - Lando, Pierre, and Katerina - were "separately" in Dubai for holiday (there were some pics from some random dude's Instagram story, where Katerina and Lando were in a very blurry way shown in the background on a beach during some evening party on January 2nd, but I can't find them at the moment).

Lando was tested positive for COVID on the 5th of January - as you probably know since it was reported on all official F1-related sites - and immediately started the mandatory 14 days self-isolation on his hotel room.

Katerina posted the next day (January 6th), that she is also in quarantine in her hotel room as she was in contact with a positive person (a.k.a Lando), but while the photos and even TikToks (yes, she made five TikToks just to announce that she is also in quarantine, just like Lando) she was posting on social media truly looked like she was abiding by the quarantine and its rules, people who were at the same time in Dubai saw her right the following day (January 7th) out with her friend.

Girl literally put this whole "I am in quarantine" act on social media, posting photos only from her hotel room to make it seem like that, but outside of media, she was out in Dubai, hanging out with her friends.

On January 10th (day 4 of her "quarantine"), she went to visit Pierre in Five Palm Hotel, where there was some crazy rooftop party - once again since it was crowded as hell, people got a ton of social media stories from that night where both Pierre and Katerina were together. Later on that night, they also went to that Topgolf thing together and the next morning they were seen together at the beach of Pierre's hotel.

The series of photos she posted on January 12th was also the first ones Pierre liked on her profile.

Just like that, they have been seeing each other pretty much till Pierre got tested positive on January 31st and was the one, who started self-isolation on his hotel room in Dubai.

Once again, Katerina was supposed to be in quarantine, but I think that you can already easily guess that she did the right opposite and was freely partying in Dubai till February 13th when she left for Spain before coming back to Dubai, where Pierre was still training, at the very beginning of March according to her social media profiles.

The beginning of March is also the time when everyone suspects her and Pierre of getting together and the time when Lando stopped liking her photos.

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

Now, aside from her being disgustingly ignorant about quarantine just for the sake of having fun (oh boy, how that reminds me of TikTokers publically ignoring COVID in the States to the point when even Ariana Grande called them out for it...), her entire public image indescribably milked from Lando's attention on social media.

People even started making fan pages for her ever since the rumors of her and Lando dating started spreading...

Since the moment people noticed Lando's interest in her, it was no longer just Katerina Berezhna, the mediocre Ukrainian Instagram influencer, it was Lando Norris' girlfriend, and when that ended, it was immediately Pierre Gasly's girlfriend - for a short period it was basically both of that.

Just that "title" alone made her photos suddenly get over ten thousand likes on a normal basis (the one with Pierre even over twenty) - back then, if it wasn't her posing in a sexy bikini, she barely got two thousand likes.

Hope I made the situation clearer.

[notathingjustthere]

Not This Time

A/N: Honestly this feels incomplete and dry but I got frustrated arguing with myself lol. I wanted to post something today, because if I keep pushing it off I will never post anything so here it is. I’m trying.  

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 3525

Summary: Ransom oversteps a boundary and cannot seem to accept the consequence of you ignoring him permanently.

The rude interruption that graced your morning, would leave drained for the rest of your day. Your blurred eyes slowly zeroed in on the small scraps of confetti that would eventually cover the floors of your bedroom. The popping sound had woken you up in alarm, and the frown that graced your face said enough. 

The evil faces that turned up in your bedroom were painted in glee, whiles they wished you a happy birthday in unison. “And who’s cleaning that up?” you groaned, naturally reaching for the phone on your bedside table and squinting when the brightness assaults your eyes.

It was only 9:23 in the morning, the alarm was usually set for 11:30 on your weekdays, but you tended to snooze till 12:15. You weren't a morning person and your friend Lizzie knew this when she pleaded on your behalf, arguing that 10:00 was a far more reasonable time to wake you up. Mila, your other friend had disregarded the input of course. 

As of late your weekends were more often than not reserved for sleep, this one being no different. Monday would be a holiday so the next 72 hours were intended to be spent alone in your house, at least that had been the plan. You had been feeling more dull than usual, and even your restocked liquor cabinet failed to excite you. 

The brunch set up in your backyard was very much up to par with your tastes.  It felt pointless to change so you still wore your pajamas, after washing your face and complaining about the time. Your friends had gone all out for the small gathering, hiring quite the eye candy of servers. Each one waited at the table, ready to help you girls to your seats. 

Your eyes lingered on one of the men a bit longer than intended, and the unexpected wink sent your way forced your eyes to look elsewhere. Mila jerked at your elbow, before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you. You had rolled your eyes before bursting out in laughter, enjoying the rest of your late morning meal with your two best girlies. It had been a while since you saw your friends, so you were glad, to say the least

Unlike you, Lizzie and Mila grew up accustomed to a lifestyle that only old money could provide. They didn't work as often as you did, which made it harder to fit into each other's schedules during the week. You did not grow up poor per se, but when compared to your friends, you could have been perceived that way. Your mother was a professor at Brown University, a fairly successful woman you thought. 

You had found your own definition for success, living comfortably and content with yourself,  as you often described it. Working in a high-level position for a growing green energy company, you took pride in your resilience. Many of your years were filled with uncertainties but finally, you had made something of yourself. The full ride to Harvard was where you met Lizzie and Mila, never expecting to develop a long-lasting relationship.

The cell you kept for personal use remained ignored after Lizzie dragged you out of bed that morning. The ringer was often placed on silent, resulting in poor communication habits with your friends. It was noon before you thought to check your device, the notification centre being flooded with messages and alerts. 

Most you assumed were birthday wishes from people you hardly talked to anymore and some that you were only associated with because of status. They meant very little to you, but the sham thankful replies you sent were only to keep face. 

A particular contact had occupied your thoughts for the past two weeks. The spam of messages you left open yet unread grew steadily. You were intent on ignoring him for as long as you felt necessary. He was not important enough to ruin your mood this weekend, or so you thought.

The last bits of sparkling wine settled nicely in your stomach, your chest feeling warm and tingly. You appreciated the quality time spent with your friends but it was time to resume back to your initial plan for the weekend. Lizzie and Mila had their own plans and intended to make your day as lively as possible. On any other day, you’d be down for a good time, but as of late you felt out the mix.

For gifts, Mila had opted for this beautiful emerald green bag from Bulgar. The serpent’s head-shaped clasp suited your corporate persona, which she admired. Lizzie gifted you a pair of Prada boots that she felt were suitable to your tastes. 

It was 6 pm when the two informed you of the private room they reserved at a club. Lizzie’s boyfriend would attend, including two other guests, you were well acquainted with. You weren’t interested at first but eventually caved in at the last minute thought of letting loose and having some fun. 

Your ringer silenced another phone call, it was his 86th one since last Friday. You were impressed with his persistence, figuring he would have given up by now. Newer messages had poured in, none of which you spared a glance until the last message he sent in.

“Fine, if this is how you wanna play it” you read. 

The spat you had gotten into with Ransom, had been your last straw. He was quite the specimen, but a prick at that. The trust fund baby had been spoiled his whole life, and couldn’t seem to handle not having his way for once. 

The relationship that brewed between you both could only be described as complicated. It had taken a lot to manage and handle the baggage he brought with him, but you both had balanced each other for a period of time. Now, you were bent on moving on, trying to convince yourself that you were over him, as he also tried to.

It was at Mila’s charity event that you would officially meet the douche, having only heard of him before. The free champagne helped soothe your nerves that night, as you often would be riddled in anxiety. It was an art exhibition, and you’d gotten roped into a conversation with the famous Harlan Thrombey, discussing a painting you knew a thing or two about. 

That was when Ransom had walked in, interrupting the conversation. You had turned away, fiddling with your glass as you patiently waited for them to finish whatever it was they were briefly discussing. Harlan turned to you, and introduced Ransom, before announcing that he would have to leave you shortly to give a speech. 

At the time Ransom didn't really catch your eye, you avoided making eye contact as you usually would with new people and had missed the way he looked at you. He wanted you in his bed for the night, and you had indulged him likewise. You were gone by morning that day, never being one to wait for the usual awkward boot out. 

Maybe you didn't notice it at first, but his face had begun popping up at your usual spots more and more. You’d run into him at a coffee shop where you often scheduled meetings with prospective clients. There were a couple more hookups here and there before he asked you out to dinner five months down the line. That was almost three years ago. 

Neither one of you talked about making the relationship official until you initiated the conversation. You had been on multiple dates, including the occasional family dinners his family hosted. You never did like attending them, but Ransom had wanted you at his side. You both spent a lot of time at each other's homes, and soon enough it wasn't just for the sex. 

He’d thought of you as his home and maybe you did too. On most days you preferred to have your space, but as of late you missed his not-so-subtle touches whenever he’d pass by you in the kitchen. 

That didn't seem to matter now, because you would never admit it out loud or to yourself. Ransom on the other hand loved being in close contact most of the time. As much as he denied the fact, you’d let him pretend the cuddling sessions during movie nights were due to the lack of space on the couch. 

You never got accustomed to Ransom’s lavish tastes. He’d been quite the spender on gifts and more times than not you insisted that he return most of his purchases. You could appreciate expensive things, but much rather make those purchases yourself. 

He only ever did demand that you keep a particular gift, one you’d almost given back after learning of its monetary value. The personalised bracelet with his and your initials on it had been your favourite. Not once did you ever take it off, and even now you still wore it after two weeks of ignoring him. 

It all started when your boss confronted you about an offer he didn’t expect you to decline so quickly. He insisted that you take your time to reconsider, and you had been confused, having never heard anything about it. You were suspicious of Ransom, almost immediately, but thought to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

At times he could be controlling, something you’d catch once in a while when you paid attention. There would be discussions about it, but oftentimes things got brushed aside as petty jealousy or mindless over-protectiveness. This time, you couldn’t and wouldn't let it slide. 

It was at dinner time when you decided to break out your thoughts and bring something up. You wanted to avoid confrontation, knowing he’d probably try to lie to your face or react in a way you were not ready to handle. He asked about your day as he usually would, and you took the chance to talk about what your boss mentioned, unaccusing of course. 

He played along with your confusion for a while, looking unimpressed as you went on. The contract would require your stay in China for two years, assisting in project management at the company’s main plant. Two years seemed long, and you could understand why the news was not exactly exciting. You had merely mentioned that you were considering the offer when he cut you off.  

“Well that's stupid, is this some kind of joke?” Ransom's response was expected but you had hoped he would show remorse more if anything. You frowned, arms folded when asking him to elaborate on how he was feeling

“I mean, you're gonna leave me for two years? What am I supposed to do, just wait for you?” 

“I would hope so, considering all that we have been through to make this work?”

“Come on, really?” he chuckled darkly, “You think I would wait?” 

“Why are you acting like this? I thought at the very least you'd pretend to be happy for me before reacting this way” you moved your hands in a way that emphasised your point. 

“Oh like you don't know that I declined the offer.”

The sigh you let out was deep. There it was, the confession you wanted out of him. You hated being lied to more than anything and were very disappointed he played along with your little act for even just a little bit. 

“I mean, but what did you expect? That I wouldn't find out about something as important to me as this?” 

“So what, I’m not as important?” he tried changing the topic.

“You know that's not what I mean, and you don't get to play the victim here. I-i don't get it with you, I’m always understanding, so why can't you return the favour”

He turned silent, which you thought was disappointing considering he had so much to say before. The anger you were trying so hard to settle down began to rear its ugly head.  It was a couple more minutes of silence before he opened his mouth to say something.

“You didn't think I’d find it suspicious that your boss was transferring with you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at that. Jonathan had not mentioned anything like that and you knew Ransom didn't like him, especially after a particular encounter at your office. 

He had shown up at your job unannounced a year ago to surprise you for your birthday when he saw the arrangements of flowers that decorated your office. Ransom did not look impressed at the scene, and knowing he would never partake in such a gesture you ruled him out. It wasn't until you noticed the card attached to one of the flowers that read out your boss's name.

“Great Job closing that deal, and a happy birthday! - Jonathan.”  

As if on queue the head of the department walked in with smiles, asking if you enjoyed his gifts. He rambled on about not knowing what you would like, so figured he’d get a little bit of everything.  

“She hates flowers,” Ransom had cut in without hesitation, your eyes widening at his remark. Leave it to him to make the inappropriate gesture from your boss even more awkward. 

“He’s not wrong, but I really do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you” you had given him a kind smile, trying to save face. You couldn't remember what happened after that except Jonathan leaving and your boyfriend silently fuming as he walked over to your window. 

You turned your attention to him, raising an eyebrow as if to question his behaviour. You were not angry with him, this was a rare moment where you actually appreciated his blunt tongue. Hopefully, your boss would now relent in his not-so-subtle advances. 

But that was a long time ago, and frankly, it didn't matter because he was focused on the wrong thing at hand. He had invaded your privacy then lied about it by not saying anything. 

“First of all I got this promotion because I worked my fucking ass off, I don't know what Johnathan has to do with anything.” you decided to defend yourself. Whatever it was that he was insinuating didn't matter because you weren't having it.

“Yeah, you fucking worked your ass off alright. You've got him so whipped that he even gets you flowers” 

You gasped, and it wasn't so much that the words hurt you, but rather the fact that he’d been clearly harbouring this since that day. There was not much you could do about unsolicited gifts that you never accepted in the first place. Besides, after Ransom’s visit, your boss had ceased all efforts. 

“Do you actually hear how insane that sounds? What the fuck was I supposed to do about that?” You reasoned, the calmness in your voice was long gone. 

“Quit” he was so arrogant and entitled. 

You scoffed,  “Well I’m sorry, but some of us actually have to work, to earn a living” the tone you took to, spoke well for you.

“I can take care of you, you know that” 

“That sounds nice and all, but I can’t depend on a man who’s never worked a day in his life.” There it was again, the silence.  

“You don't even seem sorry, and you've yet to apologize” the disappointment was evident on your face. 

He rubbed his hands over his face, his nose flaring up in annoyance, “I did what was best for us”  

“No, you did what was best for you” you started but had lost your train of thought. 

“You still don't fucking get it, do you? It's one thing to not want me to leave, but it's completely different when you think that you get to make decisions for me.” the words spewed out. 

“I'm tired of trying to reason with you Ransom, okay? We are done”

It wasn't even a second after, before he grabbed your arm, tightening his hold on you and yanking you towards him. “We are not done until I say we are” 

For a moment there he scared you, he had never put his hands on you like that, at least not outside the bedroom. Your stance did not falter when you yanked your arm away from him “Don't you ever put your hands on me again.”  

The initial shock had long subsided when you decided to speak for the last time. “Let me remind you, that you're that one that begs me back every single time! But not this time, I'm tired of you. T-tired of your shit, the jealousy, childishness, everything!” Those were your last words before your tearducts gave up. 

It was the first time he had ever seen you actually cry. Occasionally he would witness you shed a tear or two, like when you’d receive a wrong order of what you wanted, or something equally as petty.

 He tried to come closer in an attempt to comfort you, but you pushed him aside then turned away. He decided to walk out then and there, leaving you to deal with your own sorrows. 

You remember that day so vividly, and each time the memory replayed you did something to distract yourself. Much like you were doing right now at the club with your friends. The boost that alcohol gave you, left you chatty but numb. 

The buzz had you going for a while, completely indulged in a game of pool with Mila who was effortlessly schooling you. She could not let you win, not even on your birthday. It was the commotion at the door that drew your attention to Ransom arguing with the security guard and Lizzie's boyfriend, Dan. 

“Look dude, she doesn't want you here. Come on don't make this difficult” you didn't realise it but you had made your way towards Dan’s voice, not really processing what was going on. It was the sound of Ransom's knuckles punching Dan in his nose that woke you up from your little daze.  

“I said get out of my way” Ransom tried to push his way through.

“Ransom” you yelled out.

His head turned towards you rushing to Dan who held his nose up in pain. You apologised profusely as you checked his injury, thankful that nothing was broken or bleeding. You turned to your ex-boyfriend annoyed, ready to talk his ear off until you remembered you didn't care anymore.

“If you think this is how to get me to talk to you in good grace, then I don't know what to tell you,” you said, pointing behind you at Dan and Lizzie.

“What do you want? ”You sighed frustrated, after signalling the security guard off. He really wasn't making this easy for you. His hands had twitched before when you held Dan’s face to inspect his nose. He knew better than to make things any worse than it already was. 

“Look, so maybe, I have stuff to work on, and maybe we can both work on this”

“Mmm, you think so?” you asked rhetorically. It took him two weeks to come to this conclusion, and you noted how he did not start with apologies. He wanted to skip out on the guilt, but you wouldn't let him.

He tried to get closer to you, wanting to feel you against him and to reminisce in the sweet warmth he missed so much. You allowed him to, and for a moment you revelled in his familiar body heat as well, ignoring everything else around you. You let go of him after a while, distancing yourself to make it easier on you.

It took a lot to keep your composure, a part of you wanting him back but knew much wouldn’t change if you did. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to relay whatever decision you had made. You were right about one thing, Ransom would always beg you back. Never-ending the cycle of broken boundaries, possessiveness, and jealousy. 

“Look Ransom, I couldn’t give you another chance even if I wanted to” you sighed loudly. “I-it goes against my principles, and that's all I have right now. So please, just leave.” you pleaded.

Ransom’s eyes hardened, he wouldn’t back down. This time you noticed the speck of regret in his eyes, but to damn with his jealousy. He didn't want this to end, and he hadn’t meant for it to. 

“Come on, don't be so stubborn, Y/N. I love you, is that what you want me to say? I’ll do anything just say the word” 

You smiled with hurt in your eyes as you looked at him. The words didn't mean much to you when his actions suggested otherwise. It was the insincere note in his tone that made it easier, but maybe he had meant it. His eyes were much more expressive than his words could be, not that it changed anything.

You simply shook your head no, looking down at your hands and playing with your fingers. 

“No, you don't” 

The cheap trick at making amends, would not coax your forgiveness, not this time.

Thank you for reading :) 

A/N: My  sister requested that I put her in the credits for her lil two cents in some of the dialogue, so here she goes.