#bec i guess he could really see that i was just trying to force it

[seiwas]

a good cry always does wonders

[hold-him-down]

13, 32, 42, 47, 48 and 50 for Leo

p.s. sry for being so greedy 🫣

from this ask game.

13) How much time are you forced to spend by Ivan's side?

"Most of the time, when I'm awake," Leo says, voice hoarse. "He has six workers under contract right now, I think." His eyes stay on the floor as he speaks. "In the beginning, it wasn't as bad, though. He only recently took a–" he swallows, choosing his words carefully "–took a particular interest in me. On nights that he wants me to fight, I usually... I don't, do what he wants, and so I c..." He pulls in a deep, heavy breath. "I don't get to sleep until the last of the guests leave, and then he usually has his men clean me up and bring me to him. When I wake up, it's bec-cause he's woken me up, and I spend most of the day with him in some form."

He forcibly draws in another breath, the color draining from his skin as pauses, closing his eyes.

"On days that he's busy with business, he usually leaves me to his men. I don't know which is better." ( -Leo, answered during the middle of the Ivan contract)

32) Where do you feel safer - with lots of people in the room or with Parker alone?

"With Parker alone," Leo says gently. He smiles, a sad but hopeful thing, and half-shrugs. "When he's alone, I feel like he's more genuine. I know Parker is imperfect... I know that he is, but I think he means well, and when we're alone, I get to see that side of him more. When he's in front of his friends, or his family, or even his colleagues... I never quite know which side of him I'll get. But alone, I think I trust him." ( -Leo, answered during the early parts of the Parker contract)

42) How much do you miss your past life, if you do so? Which aspects of it do you miss the most?

"I don't really allow myself to miss it," Leo says now. He speaks more easily, with less attention to when and where his buyer may be lingering. "For a long time, I didn't allow myself to think about it at all. Luke has asked, a couple times, but they kind of beat my ability to talk freely about my family out of me in training." He sips a bottle of water, and for a moment, you can see him considering a life he did not get the chance to live. "I miss my family most of all, though. If I tried to contact them, I don't know what kind of trouble that would put them in. I know what the DLS threatened me with, but I don't know if it was real or not. Luke's offered, though, a few times... to try."

He sucks in a sharp breath. "I don't think I'm ready for that, though. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to cope with the risk of what that could do to them." (-Leo, answered well into Luke's contract)

47) How much have you changed since the first day in captivity?

Leo's jaw locks and he glares at the camera, but one hand wraps around his stomach and the other grips into his shoulder. He won't touch the collar, or try, in any way, to interfere with what he knows will come next, but it doesn't mean he won't try to brace himself for it.

"Leo," the handler says from the corner. His voice is a mixture of equal parts annoyance and bewilderment at the late-stage act of defiance, and he reaches for the remote. "Just answer the question."

Leo doesn't, and just before the screen goes black, you hear the start of a gutteral scream. ( -Leo, not answered a couple months into initial training)

48) Do you have any plans or hopes for the future now?

Leo is calm when the camera is turned back on, although his face is red, and his fingers shake. He swallows, and says softly, "I hope to f-fulfill whatever requests prospective buyers have of me." ( -Leo, answered an hour after the last one)

50) Share one of your happiest moment of freedom for us!

Leo smiles in earnest. "The first time Luke played the piano for me is, to this day, one of my favorite early memories. I guess it wasn't exactly a moment of 'freedom,' because I was still very much under contract, but it feels like the beginning of my 'freedom', looking back. The first time he played it, I didn't even realize he knew how. I kind of thought the piano was there for show, and mourned its neglect constantly. One night he beat me home, and when I walked in I could hear it, and I think it was one of the first times I felt excited for something, in as long as I could remember. I couldn't wait to go watch him. It was one of the turning points for us, where he started playing again, almost every night, and eventually I did, too." ( -Leo, answered several years later)

[dzpenumbra]

9/3/22

Today was a very good day. I would venture to say one of the best I've had in years. You ever have a day where you think... "this is gonna be a day I remember for years to come"? I guess you don't really plan those, do you?

It's weird, we kinda like to, don't we? We kinda like to make official days for celebrations, and deliberately try to mimic this feeling of true, organic memorialization. But it's never really the same, is it?

I connected with my brother. It was our first time spending time together since he went through some pretty severe trauma and we spent the day on my porch just talking. About a year. Unfortunately, that attempt to reconnect was too... inopportune a time. The insane emotional turbulence of immanent grief. I don't know if immanent is the right word, maybe immediate, acute, right-now/just-happened. That's the concept I'm trying to get across. He's admitted that emotional stuff is very difficult for him, and I understand why. Expressing emotions is very... unsafe in my family. Probably because it was unsafe in previous generations or something. So myself, a naturally hypersensitive emotional creative... I could relate. How could I judge? You know. I know what it's like. I tried to communicate it, but it's hard to get across without sounding arrogant or condescending. "Oh yeah, I know how you feel like not feeling safe sharing your feelings but having them just bursting the fuck out of you, I've been wrestling with that since I was in diapers." People can get defensive against that.

I am genuinely impressed to see his growth and maturity. It's... surreal. And I'm sure it has been for others seeing my awakening as well. I understand now, having seen this side of things and gone through it myself, why so many of my friends and family were completely disoriented and concerned. Well... I've grown pretty far away from understanding the "concerned" part honestly, so much time has passed since I had a dominant personality that could understand that way of thinking. It's like trying to remember a dream you had a few days ago or something.

But this meeting has been very unique. I see old parts of him fused with new confidence, new excitement and curiosity, a desire not as much to "be right", but to engage in the constant process of discovery. To share these discoveries with the passion and enthusiasm he feels inside, genuinely, honestly, fully. I can feel the "but wait until you hear this!" like... effervescence. Like a boiling kettle. I mean these are obviously abstract analogies here, right. How the fuck can you describe the emotional excitement you "contact high" through someone in close proximity to you, that you're sharing an experience with?

That quality, that moment - it is a mirror to my gifts. And very clearly demonstrates to me that he shares this gift. Expressive passion. When engaged truthfully, honestly. Not exaggerated. Not forced. Real, genuine excitement. That makes not just a good teacher, but just a good person to be around. There are those who will hate it. Feel threatened by it. "Oh you're really into Starcraft, huh? You weeb. You nerd. You loser." That kinda shit, right? I'm just completely done listening to people like that. Just like... for real. I have no idea why I ever gave people like that the power to decide whether I'm honest with my expressions or not. And I'm sad that this still has a hold of both of us. The grip of judgment. The fear of dis... is it disapproval? I mean, they'd have to actually engage in it to truthfully dismiss something. Ignorance? Closed-mindedness? That kinda thing?

I'm kinda getting to the point where I'm done just like... not doing things I love. Creating memories I love. Living a life that I look back on in 5 years and go "man, I'm so glad I decided to do that with my time." That's a big part of this journal. I've been thinking I should just say fuck it and do a book at some point. In this style. Because man can I write a fucking lot. I just really need to do typing exercises because this whole hunt-and-pecking with my right hand PC gaming thing combined with using the right trigger on Xbox controller a lot in Session is kinda fuckin up my forearm again.

Man I just ADD'd off that sentiment real hard and want to go back full circle on it one mo' 'gain...

I'm tired of the judgement of bitter people. I'm tired of not living the life I deserve, because others are not willing to pay the cost that I have to live that life themselves. Instead, they want me to have paid the cost... and then quit. Or never start. Whether it's a single project or a career path (oddly more the latter), peers from walks of life that tend to lean into the realm of... shame and regret dominant... have a tendency to try to peer pressure you out of living the life that would make you blissful. They will tell you "you can't play video games for a living, that's not a real job." They will tell you "you can't design video games for a living, that's not a real job." They will even stretch to say "you can't sell video games for a living, that's not a real job." Every single one of these is false. If you are out there and are a creative... well, not exclusively, but especially... please listen to this. If you just make cool Christmas ornaments out of cut yogurt lids, and only do it because you did as a kid and you really liked it... you can do that for a living. You just need to figure out a way. And you need to make sure you're around people who also say "fuck yeah, those ornaments are sick, I have no idea how you got so good at making them, I can't wait to see the next one." Fans. Real ones. I honestly believe that is all you need for success. Passion. Devotion. A willingness to learn, grow and improve every day. A healthy social network. That's it. I truly believe that.

So as I once again look over at the blackout curtains and see the midnight blue but also kinda slate grey and a little green... of dawn, I get the reflex to wrap this up. Still not really feeling... I don't know. I just have a push away from going to sleep at like 2. It's odd honestly. I think it's just not wanting to be alone and asleep for that many hours in darkness. The only light in my house right now is my laptop. Hmm... maybe if I put on the dim moonlike salt lamp on the other side of the room, maybe that would help me sleep better? Ooooo here's a thought... maybe I could get a dark blue sheet and mimic dawn light on the salt lamp... That could be interesting. I'll see if I can get to bed tomorrow a bit earlier and try that. Fat chance, but hey, I can dream!

I was gonna say... we'll see what tomorrow brings... like kinda groaning or whatever. Fuck that. I'll find that shit out tomorrow. For now, I'm gonna just try to sit content with this moment. That life works in very mysterious ways, and it's been a long and crazy rollercoaster of trauma to get here... and, as with all things, it may even just be momentary - gotta let my heart and stomach drop for a bit to really be... real on this one. Not in a pessimistic way, I'm really trying not to lean into that. But... to allow the pessimistic perspective a voice, and allow myself a momentary emotional preparation, a practice run, in a way. Like... this is a possible outcome. Like flipping a tarot card. The choices of both myself and my brother will decide what this becomes. And whatever we mutually choose, I'm very glad for it. Life is too amazing to spend alone.

The thought I wanted to finish from the last paragraph was "it's been a long rollercoaster of trauma to get here." I wanted to make sure it was added - because the thought got away from me before I could write it - "and it's a shame it was necessary to turn us into the odd, artsy, wise weirdos we are today." It's a shame that creation comes from devastation. Inspiration from destruction. But the growth has been very visibly profound. What used to be a gaping wound is no longer as raw, but also not rough, calloused and scarred over. The flesh has reformed with a higher level of complexity. Not just bigger and rougher. But grown back with better systems, upgrades, lessons learned and new tools to experience existence fuller. Like that big emotional wound was like an opportunity to do a full system upgrade, since we're restarting the computer anyway. Like when Windows asks you if you want to Update & Shut Down. That shit. But with your personality. And you get to choose the updates. Pretty sick analogy, it works pretty well. THAT. Right there. That I like to think of as rebirth. Resurrection. And, with a new life, of course... comes death. Death of the old you. Like moving to a new house is the death of the age of the old house. Such a powerfully traumatic event (both positive[additive/gain] and negative[subtractive/loss] trauma) can be, and very often is, the forced birth of a new You. If you get in one of those any time soon, I highly advise taking the opportunity to review your highlight reel of the different people you've been. A child, an adolescent, a teen, a young adult - you at work, you at school, you at home, you with your friends. You that played guitar on stage, you that was on the soccer team. Remember all of your greatest hits personas. And bring em all with you. The bad ones? The bad spirits? The crotchety guy who was so depressed he couldn't get off the couch and just turned it into bitter resentment towards the world, towards life itself, like getting emotionally clogged and something's rotting inside him? How the fuck do we bring those with us? How do we willfully bring those into our new incarnations? Well... I think they have some redeeming qualities within. It's the only way I live with them, so maybe watching a ton of horror movies as a younger man helped me understand that a bit better. There is always a redeeming quality in all of them, and the remainder is a constant reminder of why we currently choose not to act like that. Why we choose to not look at life in such a powerless and submissive way, only taking action to express our frustrations and outrage. Why we choose now to try to be deliberate and thoughtful in our actions, and act with the best interest of all first. When we don't get too backed up in a corner, that is... I mean... we are all human, after all, right? How do we bring the spirits with us? We remind ourselves that even our shameful parts are part of us, and they need to be, lest we not learn our lessons and unwittingly repeat history.

That was a big paragraph. I sometimes add formatting breaks when I'm listening to this back before posting. I don't think I'll do that this time. I think it shows very visually how stimulated my brain and active my thought patterns were right there. That's been happening a lot lately. It's very great for brainstorming and creative projects, writing, but... not so much for going to sleep.

Before going - I just took more tincture because screw it - I wanted to share a new practice I started last night. I want to be more deliberate with my dreamwork. In the time before I fall asleep, I usually either let my brain ramble until I nod off or try to focus on physical sensations or see what weird patterns my brain is painting on the back of my eyelids. I've started trying to create an imaginary zen garden in my mind's eye. A place that I can go to as I fall asleep, like a... splash screen on a game or something. Like splash art on a loading screen when you're loading into a game. A little lobby to play around in and explore while my body goes into hibernation mode and we shift into dream mode. And I have a feeling that the more I visit this place, the more it will take shape. The more I will become familiar with different features, which I can of course alter as I see fit. Like a Minecraft server or something. The OG Minecraft server, the one in your imagination! I'm excited about this idea, and you know what, once I get really familiar with it... maybe I'll paint it.

Or better yet... maybe I'll 3D model it in Blender. Then I can just get started making another one... God damn, if this works, this is gonna be really cool. At least to me... XD

[multifandhoem]

server collab || ii

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: “Guess I‘ll just have to cum inside you.“

The masterlist for the whole collab is here!

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: slight SPOILER (it‘s really really small), smut obviously, little bit of public stuff if you count it as such, slight breeding kink, wedding sex, lot‘s of fluff

Word count: 3292

“I still remember when Iwa-chan told me, how he embarrassed himself in front of a cute girl and hoped he would never see her again to not relive the existential dread he felt at that moment. And then he told me he met her again and she laughed over the mishap and they were going to get coffee next week.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I am so sorry.” His face was red, head bowed down in embarrassment, but you could still see it at the tip of his ears.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t like you were a stalker or something.” You were giggling a bit at the state he was in. “On top of that it is kinda my fault, I should’ve closed the curtains or something.” He slowly raised himself again, face still scrunched up in discomfort. He really looked like he was in horrendous pain and it was kinda your fault. “Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll treat you to coffee, to make you feel better, when are you free?”

Maybe the fact that he was a looker made you act a bit more open towards him than usual, but you genuinely felt bad for him. He was obviously beating himself up over that accident a couple of days ago.

You had realised fast that you could look from your window right into the room on the other side of the street, which was why you invested in curtains pretty early. But apparently, you had forgotten to close them this time, so when you turned around shirtless and made eye contact with a man, you were both equally surprised. He looked mortified and you couldn’t even blink when he suddenly dropped to the floor, now hidden from your wide eyes.

Your body reacted, even though he probably couldn’t see you anymore, shielding your breasts with one arm, the other hastily closing the curtains. After the initial shock wore off you couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Why did he just drop to the floor? He could’ve turned around or something.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

Next to you, Hajime buried his face in his hands, but the large grin that had adorned his face for the whole evening was still there. Tooru waited a bit until the laughter calmed down until he continued.

“When I came back from Argentina for a visit she was already his girlfriend of five months. And when I saw Iwa-chan I knew that she would probably stick around for longer. You know, Iwa-chan is a very violent person-“ “Only towards shitty people!” You knew he couldn’t have let that jab just go by, but Tooru professionally ignored him.

“but with her, he was very soft, always touching her in some way. Sometimes touching too much. Don’t think we forgot the trip to the cabin!” He scoldingly wiggled his finger towards you, accompanied by Makki’s and Mattsun’s affirming but still scandalised shouts.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“We gotta be quick, Haji.” His lips were hot on your collarbones, fingers already dipping under your shirt, quickly pulling it over your head. “I know, they will wonder where we are.”

You had excused yourself for a second from the movie the others had put on. It was the first time this day where there weren’t two other people in the room with you, everybody being huddled in the living room of the small cabin where you resided for the weekend. With two bedrooms shared between the six of you and one big room that functioned as kitchen, living and dining room, there was never space for some alone time, which you were desperate to have after your boyfriend strutted around you shirtless the whole day. It should be illegal for someone as fine as he was to do such things.

Foreplay had to be postponed for the next time, you had little time until the others would grow suspicious. “No need, I can take you.”

You pulled his fingers out of your entrance, desperate to just feel his cock in you. He chuckled at your eagerness, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock sprung free, already hard and leaking. Apparently, you weren’t the only sexually frustrated one.

“Fuck,” you breathed out when he buried himself in you with one stroke.

“Quiet, baby.” His lips found yours stifling your small moans as he began moving his hips.

Breathless gasped and small moans soon filled the room, occasionally accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, when Hajime couldn’t stop his hips before they met yours. “I’m close,” you whimpered as he began rubbing your clit and he shot you a breathless smile and pressed a small kiss to your lips. “Bite something when you come,” he said quietly, thrusts becoming a bit more erratic.

“Disgusting!” Loud banging on the door interrupted you and Hajime let out a string of curses. “If you already know then don’t go interrupting, Shittykawa!” Not having to hide anymore his hips finally snapped into yours, using the full capacity of his strength to make you moan against his shoulder.

Unfortunately, the orgasm you experienced didn’t lessen the embarrassment when you faced the others again.

-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was your turn to hang your head in shame, trying not to meet your parents’ eyes, who were seated next to you. Or worse, Hajime’s parents.

Tooru chuckled at your misery, before continuing.

“To be honest, I wasn’t that surprised when Iwa-chan called me and told me he would send me pictures of rings and I should help him decide. He obviously forgot timezones since it was 2am for me and I first thought somebody had died, but after promising to make me best man I obviously forgave him.” The guests laughed again and Tooru took a well-rehearsed break.

“I don’t think I have seen Iwa-chan as nervous as when he was rehearsing his proposal through me via Skype. I told him it was good, even though he was a stammering mess. But the thing about those two over there is that they calm each other down. So I knew, when the moment would come, everything would go swimmingly. I saw the way they looked at each other, there was no way she would say no.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you planning?” You were chuckling, when Hajime lead you through the small house on the outskirts of Tokyo you two had purchased together when it was safe that he was staying in Japan with his work. “Let me surprise you, woman, and stop asking.” You could hear the amusement in his voice and it made your heart bloom. After all these years together he still made you feel like you were going on your first date. And he probably always would.

“Small step, be careful.”

You felt the ground changing from the hardwood floor to a rougher and colder one, showing you that you were now outside on the small terrace. You didn’t have to wonder for long, what he was planning when he carefully pulled the blindfold off your face. The first thing you saw was him.

But it was enough. He was smiling at you, his eyes radiating love. You couldn’t help but snaking your arms around his neck, to press a kiss to his lips. “You look so handsome. I love you.”

Hajime in a suit was something you had the pleasure of seeing a couple of times, but it still caught you off guard how someone could look this good.

“You haven’t even looked around, idiot,” He chuckled but still laid his arms around you to tug you towards him to kiss you again. After that he still forced you to turn around, to take a look at what he conjured in the last couple of hours.

The small garden you had behind your house was completely transformed, fairy lights making the faint evening glow even more magical.

“It’s beautiful.” The words were soft, Hajime wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t standing this close to you. “All for you, baby. I love you. I just thought, maybe we could sit on the blanket, maybe drink a bit of wine and just talk, you know?” His voice was laced with nervousness, even if he wasn’t even sure why. He knew you would like what he did. He went through your Pinterest boards and they were loaded with fairy lights, clinking classes, kisses shared under the faint glow. “That sounds perfect. What’s the occasion? I haven’t forgotten anything, right?” He laughed out loud at your nervousness. “No, babe, you haven’t. I just wanted to do something for you.”

His smile was so pure, filled with raw emotion, you had to kiss him again, putting as much passion as possible into the kiss. “Thank you, Hajime. I love you so much. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Your eyes were a bit wetter than usual and you hastily blinked the tears away, smiling at your boyfriend, ready to have a magical evening.

He really had everything prepared. Next to the blanket, a small cooler with a bottle of rosé laid, together with two glasses for you. His phone played soft instrumental music in the background, as you settled yourself against his chest, occasionally sipping at your wine, reminiscing about the past years, wishing for the future ones.

“Hey, move for a second, my leg’s fallen asleep.” A small tug of his leg under you made you sit up, while he fixed his posture, both of you now sitting upright in front of each other.

“Sorry, about that. Do you want to stand up for a bit to move it?” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he tugged you back down when you already wanted to stand up.

A shaky breath escaped him. So this was it. “Y/N, baby, I love you. So much, you can’t even imagine. You’ve been with me for the past couple of years and I honestly can’t wait for the future, if you’re by my side.” He paused for a second, hand slipping into his pocket. “Hajime.” Tears were already welling up in your eyes before he even managed to pull the ring out of his pocket, that he and Tooru had chosen so diligently a couple months prior.

“Will you marry me?”

-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Those two, right there, are a great couple if I’ve ever seen one. I actually can’t imagine a better partner for my Iwa-chan. Hajime. I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve been growing up alongside you and, dare I say, we’ve both become pretty great.” Tooru chuckled a bit, but everyone could hear his voice wavering, as his eyes were fixated on his best friend.

“I can’t express how happy I am, to still have you in my life, to now seeing you maturing into this great man who is inspiring others in everything he does. Seeing you enter this new part of your life, with this great woman in my life warms my heart. And you deserve nothing less. A toast to you. A toast to your future, Mr. and Mrs. Iwaizumi.” He raised his glass to you, a big smile on his face.

If he weren’t sitting right across from you, you would’ve missed the small tears rolling down his face. The guests around you all raised their glasses to towards you, everyone touched by Tooru’s speech.

But nobody came close to Hajime, who was clenching your hand in his’ tightly, tears welling up in his eyes, before he strode over to his friend, tightly embracing him.

You couldn’t hear what words were exchanged as tears fell and people smiled at the pair. Every guest at your wedding knew about Hajime and Tooru. The best friends, the best partners, who have been with each other since they were about five years old. Who only see each other every couple of months, partners technically becoming rivals.

When your husband came back to you his eyes were puffy, some tears still escaping, but the happiest smile on his face. Tooru hugged you too, wishing you good luck for your future, making a small joke about becoming an uncle again and telling you, once again, to take care of his best friend, his brother.

“I’m so happy to be your wife.” Hajime kissed you at your words but you still knew that he was equally as happy as you were. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily now,” you joked, relishing in the laughter that escaped him.

“As if I would ever want that. I’m going to put some kids in you as soon as possible. And then we have a little family. Maybe even a big family. Whatever you want.” He kissed you again and you couldn’t help but smile at the picture of him with kids in your head. More importantly, your kids. “About that.” You leaned into his side, grateful for the minutes you had at the edge of the room. “I’ve been thinking, maybe stopping my birth control? I mean we don’t have to start trying and stuff, but we’re married now and we’ve been together for a while, and we talked about it already, and-“ You were cut off with a passionate kiss, Hajime even dipping you slightly as he practically devoured you.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” You could only nod, a wide grin on your lips as you cupped his face in your hands to bring his mouth to yours again. “Fuck, I love you. I can’t wait to fuck you today.” Heat shot through your stomach at his words and his kisses did nothing to soothe it.

“Hajime.” You really didn’t intend for his name to sound like such a whimper. But when he growled against your lips you knew you were done for. “The bridal room. Where I got ready. Let’s go.”

You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking around again, when you were rushing through the halls of the venue, hand in hand with your new husband, giggling around, until you finally closed the door behind you, being pressed against the same one in an instant, a breathless Hajime resting his forehead against yours.

You were whispering ’I love you’s to each other for the probably thousandths time this day, but it wasn’t like you were growing tired of it anytime soon. “You gotta be careful about the dress, I don’t wanna have cum stains somewhere,” you reminded him as he was flicking up your skirt, already sinking to his knees.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” You giggled in excitement at his statement, soon leading into a moan, when he buried his face between your lower lips, thong pulled to the side, his tongue expertly doing all the things he found out about you the years before.

“Fuck, Hajime.” Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging him closer.

He took one of your legs in his hand, tugging it over his shoulder and digging even deeper between your legs, using the fingers of his other hand as well, to insert two of them into your dripping cunt. “Haji, I’m coming,” you whimpered, clamping onto him.

“Wait for my cock.” The years of never neglected training came in handy, when he stood up, with you in his arms, to seat you on the small table, that was probably just in the room for decorating purposes. You shrieked a bit at how fast everything was happening, but you kind of agreed with him.

The first time you should come as husband and wife should be with him deep inside you.

He dropped his suit pants to his ankles and you could feel yourself clench with excitement. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please, Haji.” You pulled him towards you again to connect your lips, moaning into his mouth when he rubbed his dick up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

It’s weird to explain what you felt the moment he pushed himself inside you. You had sex lots of times. But in that moment you felt more complete than you ever did.

You stayed like that for a couple of seconds, connected in the most intimate way possible, before his hips snapped back and into you again, eliciting a moan of both of you.

“Honestly, fucking you in your wedding dress is hot as fuck.” He laughed breathlessly, kissing you again, all while not halting his thrusts.

“Think about me pregnant with your kids,” you purred in his ear and squeaked in delight when his next thrust was harder than before.

“Don’t get me started. You’re going to look so good pregnant. All round and cozy.” His speed grew more erratic and you knew he would come soon.

“Fuck, we gonna start soon, right?” Your fingers clenched in his shirt, pushing him closer to you, chasing your own high.

“We’re starting right now, baby.” He kissed you again, hand moving down to rub your clit again, chuckling at the little whimpers you let out.

“Haji-“ You didn’t need to say more, he already knew, what you wanted to tell him.

“Go on, baby.” You kissed again, moans mixing in your mouths, as his tongue caressed yours, the slight taste of your juices still left on them. Every time his cock hit that one part you had to suppress a small scream, only slightly moaning in your husband's mouth.

“Can’t wait for tonight. Gonna fill you- ah- up again and again. And then you can be as loud as you want. Fuck. Gonna take my time with you.”

The filth he muttered against your lips only made you clench down harder onto his cock, feeling your high approaching rapidly. It was him coming, his cum spurting into you, which finally sent you over the edge, legs wrapping around him, bringing him even closer to your body, completely engulfing him, dead set on never letting him go.

Heavy breathing filled the room, as you both came down from your high. Small kisses were being exchanged, I love you’s were mumbled. But it was still perfect.

“I’m already anticipating tonight,” you mumbled, slightly exhausted due to moaning so much, making him chuckle, while his hands calmingly rubbed up and down your sides.

When he pulled out of you, you moaned again at the feeling of his cum slowly dribbling out of you.

“This looks so good. You look so good.” Hajime’s eyes were focused on the spot between your legs, fingers twitching to push it back inside.

“Don’t let it go on the dress!” You shrieked, chuckling at the way he darted to get a paper towel, carefully wiping you down.

“You alright, baby?” He helped you down from the table after pushing your thong back in place and fixing up his suit pants.

“Yeah. I love you. You made me the happiest woman alive, today, you know that?” The smile he threw your way at your words made your heart bloom. You were so in love with this man.

“Now, brace yourself for the comments.” You intertwined your fingers again, going back down the hallways to rejoin your guests at your reception. “You think somebody noticed something?” Your hands grew sweaty at the thought. Hopefully, nobody suspected a thing. Especially not his parents. Or worse, the grandparents!

“Tooru will have noticed for sure. You know how he is. If we’re lucky he hasn’t told Makki or Mattsun.” Hajime seemed way to relaxed at the thought, only shrugging his shoulders, ditching your hand to throw his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side.

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you could feel he was smiling.

“I love you, too.”

No matter what was going to happen once you got back, this was still the best day of your life.

[rogue-of-heart-classpecting]

So how would a session go with a Witch of time (she/her) Heir of space (they/them) rogue of heart (all pronouns) Knight of void (he/him) a thief of mind (she/her) and a mage of light?

Im the rogue of heart and my sister is the Thief of mind and the relationship is a bit rocky and I’m friends with them all but my sister isn’t really close with any of them if that helps any

I’ve been pushed down the homestuck path again and i don’t think i can escape.

Thanks :))

Let's see.

Space and time players - check.

Even number of players - check (although.. I don't know if that really matters! That's just what we've seen in our 4 examples.)

No overlapping classes or aspects - check.

Let's go over the players' "jobs."

Attack - Witch of Time, Thief of Mind.

Defense - Knight of Void.

Guide - Mage of Light.

Support - Rogue of Heart.

Healer - No healing classes or Life players... I suppose the Witch of Time could definitely pop around making sure everyone is safe using her re-do powers.

The Witch of Time and Heir of Space are on frog and possibly Scratch duty. The Witch kind of has her hands full in this situation. I think the Heir and Rogue could help her out on the side.

The Witch of Time would be able to change the way time works, using time in ways you wouldn't usually think of, bending and breaking the rules of time's normal flow. Her challenge might be to keep control over herself when faced with two very powerful and active class/aspects. She might also be able to See Space at the beginning of the game, like Jade did with seeing through Time in the clouds on Prospit.

The Heir of Space would be easygoing, positive, bubbly, maybe try to get everyone to work together and have fun. They would maybe be able to shift space easily and even unexpectedly. By the end of the game, they will have done something to connect in a way fully with the concept and aspect of Space. This might look like how Bec teleports by BECOMING space and then manifesting back down to his small size by letting go of being all of space at once. Trippy.

The Rogue of Heart is really here to make sure everyone stays calm and collected, making sure emotions dont boil over and, alternatively, keeping everyone (especially the Thief) from becoming too cold and unfeeling or callous. Having a Thief of the opposite aspect is kind of a problem in this session, and, I'm guessing, really ANY session. The Rogue's job is to make sure the Heart levels are equally balanced among the players and the environment around them. The Thief's job is to steal all of the Mind from the session for herself, leaving an absence of it in anyone but her. This would kind of force the Rogue through their arc, maybe even before they're ready. The Rogue has to learn to accept their aspect for themselves. By having the Mind (absence of Heart) stolen from them, they could become overly emotional and unstable. Rogues are already uncomfortable with their aspect within themselves. Getting a ton of it by force shoved on them would be very uncomfortable. I could see the Rogue and the Thief getting into a big fight over it. It might end up like a game of Heart hot potato? Trying to give all of this emotion and impulse back and forth because neither of them want it. The Rogue sees all this Mind in one place and has all this Heart to give and so repels it like a magnet. The Thief just got RID of their Heart and doesn't want it back! Hopefully the other players, maybe the Knight, could keep them apart.

The Knight would protect Void. This means there is a lack of Void in the session. There's probably too much going on, there's no time for quiet reflection, collecting yourself, being calm, destimulating, etc. The Knight could cultivate this area where things are less hectic, like Calliope's spiral space. This Knight would also be good at banishing monsters to the shadow realm. However, that would prevent you from gaining XP or grist from killing them. I think this Knight would disappear for long periods of time. I hope he doesn't void out for too long. I think players and enemies in this session will sometimes need to go in the Void time-out for calm down time.

The Thief of Mind. Let's see. This classpect would be the accumulating of all surrounding decision, logic, thought, justice, pathways, etc. from everyone else in the session. This player would have justice and fairness always happen to them and never to anyone else. Other players will be treated unfairly by the game and fate itself, whether that be to their advantage or disadvantage. Other players would have a hard time thinking rationally for themselves, being unable to choose their next step, acting mostly on impulse and on what they FEEL would be the right thing to do, instead of the safest or smartest thing to do. There would be a lot of tension and hostility from everyone's emotions being raw and exposed. Thieves can make good leaders, especially if they steal an aspect that is a valuable tool for command. The Thief would try (and maybe fail) to get everyone to follow their rational plans. They would say, "I'm the one with all the brains/plans/decision making, everyone has to do what I say!" I doubt a bunch of players with an overload of Heart would appreciate that and one or more of them might try to overthrow her.

The Mage of Light would probably be frustrated with this setup. They would see what's actually going on over the whole game, and they would see where everyone's getting hung up over trivial things, and they would hate it. Since they're a Mage, they would have to find by trial and error the best way to make everyone pay attention to them before being able to instruct the team as a guide. Their method of seeing through the game's future would probably be manually thinking through every possibility for future paths and seeing which ones are dead ends, backtracking, and retracing a new path from where the old one went wrong. It would take longer for them to find the right choice this way, but the Mage's powers would grow stronger through experience. By the end of the game the Mage will know exactly what to do and when. And since they're a Light player, they would be able to get everyone's attention, unlike Sollux.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

What’s your opinion for Leo’s reaction to finding out the mc was immortal as well- not necessarily a vampire, maybe they’re some other type of supernatural. I’m really curious because Leo seems like he’s mainly in love with the mc bec they are human.

Hi lovely!!! Always wonderful to see you, hope you’re well! 💛💛💛💛💛

Tbh I think my opinion remains the same about something like this? I'm going to link to an ask I wrote up a while ago, only because it's v pertinent to the subject matter and good background for what I’m going to expand on here.

That being said, I'm happy to kind of tl;dr/expand on what I talked about there. Basically I had the feeling that Leonardo choosing MC as a lover was more circumstantial--regarding the state of his life in the moment, regarding his general feelings about vampires and vampire society, and regarding his unresolved trauma as a young kid.

I guess my answer to that question--and forgive me if it seems like a cop out--is that it really depends, I feel? I think his attraction has a lot more to do with the kind of person somebody is, their sensibility, more than it has to do with mortal vs immortal. If it was an immortal MC that showed ridiculous fortitude and self-control, measured patience and maturity, I really don’t see him not noticing that? I think he would be wary at first (assuming it’s all a front) but with time would likely feel a great deal of love if they were interested in a life together. If they were able to see and understand what he needs and answered those needs, I guess I just really doubt his ability to say no. It’s all he’s really looking for, and the fact that he hasn’t found it after so long really speaks to his frightened evasiveness and the rare nature of that kind of unshakeable strength.

I also think a lot of his hinging away from purebloods (true immortals, in other words) is that he 100% does not want his familia having any involvement in his meaningful relationships. Which might be why he shows more acceptance towards turned vampires, or potentially different supernatural beings.

But I also don’t like giving a vague answer without some kind of explanation as to how I got, to that conclusion, so a boatload of analysis follows below the content warning.

Spoilers for Leonardo’s route and a few mentions of JPN ver content:

I think he has less of an obsession with the idea of mortality, and more like a constant association of goodness and freedom and maturity with humanity. And while it's understandable, there are signs that--when he has the proper time and space to heal--his views seem to soften from those extremes. I mean his decision to live with Comte is pretty much his first step in that direction; it was him acknowledging for the first time that vampires aren't inherently loathsome or incapable of normal living. (On a revealing note, I think it says a lot that he agrees with MC that she is living in a “wolves’ den” but also feels the need to clarify the men are basically the domesticated equivalent. They don’t pose the same threat other vampires typically do to humans because of their lifestyle and sire.) Additionally, his tsun-like behavior towards Comte also seems to solidify this concept for me: Leonardo’s trying to come to terms with something he's sworn to reject since he was young, but also can't entirely deny that Comte is as chill and mature as purebloods come lmao

[There was also an event in the JPN ver–which seems to be approaching the ENG version rapidly, though only the first part is here right now–in which Leonardo fully offers to turn her. MC is essentially on her death bed, and Leonardo doesn’t want to lose her after so little time together; it’s MC that rejects the future as a vampire out of sheer principle. Even more noteworthy is that, when a reincarnation of MC is reunited with Leonardo in modern times, he is revealed to be exceptionally shaken by that loss. There are suggestions he can’t take losing her again, which could mean succumbing to the desire to bite her.]

Two things I feel are necessary to hit home:

The first being that, at least within the storyline so far, the most mature and human-like vampires we’ve seen are Leonardo and Comte. They seek to emulate the maturity they see reflected in the human beings they’ve known all their lives. Given how vampire society and their hierarchies work, I get the feeling humans are nothing more than amusing tools to them--a way to survive and creatures to exercise control over. There’s an objectification and delusion that comes with what I’ve seen, and I think it’s important in this discussion? If the vast majority of vampires behave this way (because I’m ngl, Leonardo and Comte don’t seem very keen on remaining in touch with other vampires all that much) then it only makes sense they prefer the company of humans who can at least share this sensibility of “been there, done that--stop hurting people bc you’re bored/repressed, grow up.”

One event story where this was exceedingly evident was actually Leonardo’s proposal story. If y’all remember, an old pal/acquaintance of Leonardo’s finds out he’s gunning for a human woman and basically goes “lmao not on my watch.” His name was Adam iirc, and he felt he had every liberty to try and pressure Leonardo into turning MC. Failing that, he insisted they should break up and not be together anymore. Now, on the one hand, it’s fair to say that he was looking out for Leonardo in a way–he didn’t want him to end up miserable and alone when she was gone. But at the same time I feel that Adam’s behavior is deeply revealing of vampire society as well lmao. He doesn’t really try to understand the situation, just immediately assumes it’s the only appropriate outcome. It does insinuate a lowkey cultural disdain for humanity: they are imperfect, they do not last or cannot have real value without preservation. If Adam was really Leonardo’s friend, wouldn’t he realize that Leonardo considers vampirism nothing more than a burden that he would wish on no one, much less his future wife? Additionally, wouldn’t he also keep in mind that Leonardo considers human beings beautiful just as they are? Since he fails these basic requirements to understand Leonardo, my impression is that he is influenced by the larger vampire culture to some extent. Furthermore, it underscores just how thoroughly Leonardo has been trained to keep his cards close to his chest for fear of ridicule/violent reprisal: no vampires know his true feelings on the matter because he would be vehemently rejected outright.

[One can also offer that maybe Adam wasn’t being malicious, maybe vampires find human women they fall in love with all the time and turn them (or any other permutation of companionship that occurs), so he doesn’t understand why Leonardo wouldn’t. But even then, to try to force them to break up if she doesn’t turn? A bit overkill imo but also revealing--Leonardo’s will is being ignored for the sake of upholding a kind of ill-founded superiority complex lmao]

While Leonardo does have a somewhat overbearing need to control the pacing of his relationship and who sacrifices what, I don’t think it’s wrong to be cautious--to want to think things through. I think it’s fair to be afraid that the person you’re with can’t handle what you’ve seen/known. But that also leads me to a core issue I have with MC: she doesn’t inspire much confidence that she can handle the life he’s lived, and that’s a problem of both incapacity and incompatibility. I have to wonder how he reacts when he’s with somebody at the same maturity level, or at the very least somebody with whom he can see her strength with time. When MC’s life was dying out he was desperate enough to accept biting her because he didn’t want to lose her–human or not. It’s MC that rejects this solution, which leads me to further believe that he just doesn’t care about the divide when it comes down to it; it has more to do with his difficulty with being vulnerable and fully trusting someone to care about him. (Assuming they also have the fortitude to stay hopeful and relatively strong over the course of a very long life.)

In line with that, the second thing I think it’s important to acknowledge is how deeply hurt Leonardo is as a result of his family treating him like a fool/black sheep. He outright says and heavily insinuates that his family would write her off as worthless, that they’d never accept her--that's his first thought:

Leonardo: “My familia would call you frail. I think you’re strong and beautiful. You do more with your time than we try to do with ours.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC: “And those letters were from your familia?”

Leonardo: “Yeah. I don’t talk to them or see them anymore. We don’t agree...on a lot of things.”

[Brief intermission here. But lmao. Who does that sound like? If any of you guessed Isaac, that’s exactly what I’m alluding to. Isaac says in his own route smth along the lines of “Why bother trying to get through to people when no amount of talking does any good or gets you any closer to being understood?” Which also explains the way they get along to uncanny degrees: they find comfort in making things/researching because it means being able to avoid the distress that comes with being blatantly misunderstood by others. Their pain simply comes in different dimensions; for Leo it’s about loss and hiding who he is out of fear of rejection, for Isaac it’s about betrayal and people turning on him--ultimately abandonment for both. But I digress, back to the main argument.]

Leonardo: “Once they discovered my location, they began hounding me with letters again. They don’t want me to be with just anyone...They want more purebloods. I’m no more than one half of an equation for them.”

There is a clear implication that his desire to choose somebody that truly makes him happy means jack shit to them. They keep talking over him and trying to wear him down to force him into what they want. It’s no wonder--imo--that he has such a hard time just saying what he wants in his life, to feel like he has the freedom to wish and pursue anything freely. It’s no wonder he just expects MC to spit on everything that’s important to him. It appears as though only other human beings in general and Comte have ever come close to understanding him.

At some point MC realizes that his insistence on being compagni provvisori was originally just another act of sacrifice, and that he was fine with giving up his time and a little privacy if it meant she would be safe. The thing she doesn’t seem to realize in the course of this--and he struggles to say it until later on--is that it stopped being blind generosity. He really did start to fall in love with her, and that’s the whole reason things became even more messy; because he didn’t anticipate not being able to let go on top of the vulnerability. And it’s a big part of why he’s hesitating to speak. He feels he has no right to those feelings, and that he’s imposing on her--not that he’ll be welcome.

And when she did finally admit those feelings were welcome, it was compounded by the parroted views of his family and larger vampire society as a whole. Saying that she herself wasn’t enough, that she had to become a vampire to make him happy. Imo that sounds very potentially retraumatizing given his experiences (people trying to force him into marriages with other vampires who didn’t remotely understand or care about him because it was “the right way of things”). It’s no wonder he freaks out and does something incredibly stupid and insensitive–which is pretty insanely ooc for him.

Leonardo: “...It shocked them. Quieted them down a bit. Hard to get peace when your familia is immortal. Grazie, cara mia.”

Leonardo: “You’re strong, and you’re kind. So probably you won’t cry while I’m here to see it. But when I’m not looking, you’ll cry. If I had done that to you (bitten her, in other words), you’d still be crying when I wasn’t watching... Maybe it’s selfish of me, after what I did, but I just wanted to make you happy. You always look pretty, cara mia, but your smile takes my breath away...It’s not your destiny to love someone who will only make you cry.”

This man literally cannot handle anyone deeply sad or in despair. He’s always going to try to cheer people up and care about them, but general tragedy/emotional discord affects him very powerfully--and it’s likely a reflection of what I’ve mentioned before. He can’t bear to see people feeling helpless or miserable because he’s just been there too many times to be able to cope. He wants to help and heal (even if he’s suffering from prolonged compassion fatigue), but he knows that his powers are limited--even if he is a pureblood.

And the thing is? While it’s misguided to believe she would cry alone when it comes to the context of healthy romantic love (bc the idea would be that you lean on each other when something upsetting happens) he has zero reference point. He was not born as a result of authentic love (his parents never married, he was the result of a procreative arrangement), his family talks over every wish and belief he has and they still claim it’s done out of love/honest concern for him. One can only imagine the serpentine and obnoxious lengths to which his family has deceived or tried to force him into reconnecting with them. Every person that ever did know him/care about him in a real way is gone. Love, for him, has only been a series of losses that left his heart hollowed out; I don’t really blame him for expecting further disappointment and isolation and exhaustion. 

He’s also not wrong in the sense that he partially saw MC do what he outlined, and it’s a big part about what he loves about her. When she was feeling alone and lost–powerless–all she did was shrug and move forward. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but focusing on what you can do instead of what you can’t do is healthier. And they both have the tendency to hide when they’re in pain or feeling lost, all because they don’t want to trouble anyone. Remember that when he says this, it’s a reflection of himself too: because even if he was heartbroken beyond measure, all he would do is hide it every second; he would never expect anyone to see right through him or care.

I mean I tend think of that one post I saw that talked about how people often see themselves as a social burden when most of their life has just been a series of neglect and loss. They don’t really have a concept of “you’re not heavy because I want to stay with you. It’s my choice to care about you.” How do you feel worthwhile an existence when four hundred years later your family still won’t treat you with basic dignity. The men in the mansion also all look to him for guidance and soothing because of the kind of person he is–he’s either silent in the periphery or helping. He never betrays so much as an inkling of insecurity or distress. 

I mean the whole reason Leonardo comes to the mansion is because he has absolutely no issue helping Comte in a pivotal time of need without seeking much of anything in return. Remember that Comte explains how Leonardo came to the mansion in response to Comte’s distress about the future. This makes sense considering Comte was rapidly trying to stop Vlad by beating him to the punch, and had only enough time to plan the basics. He had no certainty things would work out, much less that his boys would thrive. But Comte, unlike the boys, has become acutely aware of how much Leonardo is hiding his fatigue and despair in the course of being helped. As such, he wants to return the favor--and tries to be a good friend to him as much as he can (handles his insane familia, keeps things light and silly time between them, takes him seriously as a person, doesn’t pry beyond what’s fair.)

[I also think of that psychology concept of “the good enough mother.” It’s not always about being perfect every second of your life. It’s about paying attention and acting where it really counts. I feel like people who grow up under an enormous burden of neglect or parental/mentor abuse have a hard time coming to terms with the idea. This notion that just trying is enough for a lot of people, that showing them they’re not alone is enough to make  difficult memories bearable. Because it’s the oppressive silence and apathy that tends to kills people, imo--not people who mean well. But Leonardo doesn’t really understand any kind of reciprocal or non-self-emptying model because the concept is beyond him. He has no experience with it beyond Comte and a select few humans he’s befriended.]

Let’s continue on this point of MC crying where he can’t see her, shall we? The reason this scares him so much is not because he doesn’t care, or doesn’t want to make the effort. It’s precisely that he cares to the point of madness. It’s that he is legitimately convinced nothing he has to say, nothing that he can do, no part of him is enough to ease what she will have to trade away to stay with him. The core issue is not one of disregard or objectification, I find it to be more about his belief that he just isn’t enough. He doesn’t trust that anyone can love him to the point where just the sight of him or time with him can heal. And while there is a foolishness to this belief, it’s understandable when you consider where he’s coming from. You can call it selfishness, but it just feels involuntary--he has a lot of fear when it comes to love.

I mean Comte even says it himself? His words here always strike me: “I want you to understand, it’s because he cherishes you just as you are--more than he cares about his future or his well-being.”

Comte is openly identifying the way that Leonardo has a tendency to give more than is healthy. That Leonardo isn’t hesitating because his feelings are lacking, he’s doing it because he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch trying to love her and never ask beyond what feels reasonable. (Spoilers: no request is reasonable. That’s the problem here. He’s convinced he deserves nothing.) Therefore turning her into a vampire to stay with him is--consequently, to Leonardo--out of the question. This is the literal hingepoint at which Comte and Leonardo divide; Comte simply tells MC he’ll take full responsibility for asking so much of her. He intends to make her happy with every single resource and skill he has at his disposal. Even if he doubts his ability or fears losing her to vampire rhetoric madness, he’d rather try than live with the regret and immediate loss. Leonardo is more resistant because of his dour outlook, that her fear of immortality is never going to be something that either of them can overcome. And/or he’s likely afraid she’s only going to regret being together after so long, and might succumb to the ridiculous sort of power/greed complexes vampires seem so attracted to by nature.

I think Leonardo is still coming to terms with the idea that he isn't alone in the world in a lot of ways, and I think he's also coming to terms with the idea that immortality does not equate to evil. Sure, human beings on average are probably more open to flexible modes of thinking and living compared to vampires--their maturity is in some ways guaranteed due to the instances they're forced to adapt to survive. However, just one look at the ruling class and oligarchies of all kinds (even just stubborn human beings) reveals how they are not immune to the same sort of megalomania, arrogance, and thoughtless violence purebloods/vampires are capable of.

So I guess I hesitate when it comes to the thought that he only loves her because she's human. If anything, I think he loves her for the fact that she's very rooted in reality--not quite so bound by the extremes that trouble him. It's one of the many reasons I believe Leonardo needs a lot of maturity and patience; the ability to differentiate between his panicked/overwhelmed/hurt reactions versus his calm is a skill in and of itself considering his capacity for concealment. To say nothing of getting him to slow down when this happens, too.

I suppose I think about it in a way that’s similar to how Napoleon’s main story narrative is framed. While Leonardo’s route doesn’t focus on the grandeur of being a former emperor, there is a clear insinuation here that he also craves normalcy? Just a little life, with a person he loves dearly, where he can rest and be himself for once. I think because he gives off such an appearance of steadiness, people fail to see that he is barely holding on--not to mention the kind of experiences he’s been deprived of (the exact security and understanding he so expertly emulates).

Closer to your question, it’s worth mentioning that Leonardo’s life goal for a while was the creation of an immortal human being--in that he fully recognized human beings could not offer what he needed as they were.

He loves humans because of their adaptability, their frequent desire to keep seeking out hope and making the best of the broken pieces they have. But then again, it has more to do with the nature of how frequently that sensibility occurs in humans vs vampires (and immortality in general): mortality does demand some level of necessity to change and grow. Which is one of the largest trauma points for him; the vampires around him just refused to grow up, always demanding at him like children and obsessed with their power complexes.

Thing is I also don't know enough about vampire society to know how correct this perceived ratio is. However, given Comte's similar avoidance of other vampires and general inability to live with them (he and Vlad were literal childhood best friends and Comte can't stand him anymore lmao) I think Leonardo may have more validity here than people give him credit for. Which begs the question--why did he quit trying to make a human immortal? What was it that stopped him? Was it the horror of what needed to be done to achieve it? Or would a potential companion start to fall more in love with the idea of immortality than they do with life itself/him? I think it’s a worthwhile question to ask, given the disdain he seems to aim at Shakespeare in particular--once human, but now emulates all of the violence and insatiability marked by vampirism.

This is where the transition from human to vampire/immortal contains another hingepoint: is Leonardo so incapable of finding a middle ground because he feels like any choice he makes will be a wrong one? Marry a human, deprive them of a normal love where they can grow old together. Marry a human and turn them, what if they are reborn with immortal wounds/psychological harm? What if time proves they get bored of him or hateful, what if they begin to act like the predatory purebloods he hates so much? Marry a pureblood/immortal, and be hounded by his family for heirs--risk being with somebody who will never love him or their children, and only inspire more misery in the world.

Does it make sense how this can really start to become an anxious downspiral for someone like him? How the personal insecurity and life history comes together to just compound stress endlessly?

That's the thing that's important here, I think. Leonardo just needs somebody who is open-minded, firm, and not easily deceived. If one takes a look at Leonardo's main story route, the whole reason everything goes to shit so disastrously is because MC stops listening at a critical point. Granted Leonardo could have been more forthcoming for sure, but when she started assuming Shakespeare was right instead of seeing how Leonardo was feeling/reacting, she responded in ways Leonardo wasn't prepared for. He never wanted to shake her faith or insinuate whatever she is is not good enough for him, and tbh I think Leonardo downspiraled because it was just the same thing all over again. What he is--a vampire and immortal--keeps ruining everything he wants with his life. 

[mikrowrites]

destiny

winchester!sister , dean x sister!reader , sam x sister!reader

SPN SEASON 15 FINALE SPOILERS!!!

summary: Y/N always knew she was destined go out one way or another, so when destiny arrives Y/N just wants her brothers to hold her.

warnings: ANGST, death, blood, violence, language, there’s some fluff I swear!!!

There’s a moment when you are confronted with your destiny.

Maybe your destiny is to end world hunger. Find a cure for an incurable disease, open a restaurant, some shit like that.

Y/N Winchester was always destined to die.

It’s every hunter’s destiny, really. They resign themselves to the incredibly high odds of their inevitablely early demise, and she made her choice long ago. She would die, and her brothers would live...

The vamp wrestled with Y/N, definitely stronger but one of them is holding a machete and guess what? Not him.

She sliced his head clean off, turning and seeing her brothers fighting off the two remaining vamps. Y/N smiled a bit, before rushing over to help Dean. She kicked the back of the vamp’s knee, throwing her brother the machete. He’s about to swing it when the vamp turns, grabbing Y/N and pushing her back against a wooden beam.

Pain enveloped her body as she let out a strangled gasp, looking up into the vamp’s eyes with her own wide ones. The moment doesn’t last long before Dean slices his head clean off. Y/N looked down at her stomach, her breath shakey as her mind reeled, trying to process the situation. Something was pressed into her back, making her insides feel as though they were on fire.

“Hey, Y/N/N?” Dean spoke up, Y/N snapping back to reality, her eyes softening as she looked up at her brothers. “It’s okay, everything’s good, kid. Let’s get out of here.”

“I-I can’t...” Y/N responded, her bottom lip trembling.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Uhm...” Y/N struggled to catch her breath, her hand gesturing to her stomach. “I-ah—something... somethings got me, in my back, feels like it’s going right through me, ah-shit...”

Sam walked forwards as Dean remained rooted where he was, his face contorting into one of fear. The taller brother put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, before reaching and touching her back as the girl hissed in pain. Sam pulled his hand back, his head snapping up to look at his sister when his palm came back painted red.

“That doesn’t look good.” Y/N murmured, Dean rushing over, seemingly surveying the scene.

“Okay, um, if we’re just careful we can pull you off—“

“No! No! Jesus Christ, haven’t you both watched TV? You pull me off I’ll bleed out instantly.” Y/N reasoned. “I’d... I’d die quicker.”

“Sam call for help.” Dean insisted.

“No!” Y/N shouted again.

Sam shook his head. “Y/N, we need to get you help—“

“—and explain the corpses laying around relieved of their heads? Besides, if help came I wouldn’t make it to the—“

“Stop. No.” Dean dismissed. “You aren’t... you’re not dying.”

Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head. “You know that isn’t true.”

Both brothers were silent, looking at their sister in despair and helplessness.

“Just... please... stay with me?”

Dean raised his hand to cup her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Always.”

Sam walked over, Y/N grasping each of their hands in hers.

“I need you both... to find those two kids and get them somewhere safe.” She spoke to them, her eyes gathering tears.

Dean and Sam nodded, Y/N exhaling.

“And—uhm—Miracle’s food is in th-the lower l-le-left cabinet in the kitchen. A-And—“

“We’ve got it, sweetheart.” Dean reassured, his eyes moistening. “You don’t have to worry about all that.”

Y/N smiled sadly, a tear cascading down her face. “But I’m worried about y-you two.”

The two men became distraught, Y/N continuing. “I need you both to-to m-move on.”

“We’ll find some way, we’ll figure something out and bring—“ Sam began to reason, before Y/N interjected.

“No. No, please, d-don’t do that. Don’t try and bring me back. That ne-never has ended well.”

Sam truly began to cry, Y/N squeezing his hand. She smiled through her own tears, looking at the two men. “You’re my big brothers. I love you-you both s-so much.”

“It can’t end like this.” Dean begged, holding up and grasping Y/N’s hand. “It can’t...”

Y/N cringed in pain, the two brothers looking at each other distraught. A single tear dripped down Dean’s cheek.

“Re-remember when y-you both found me? That was the b-best d-da-day of my life.” Y/N sputtered out. “Y-You took m-me in an-and raised me. Th-Thank you. For be-being my brothers... whe-when you didn’t ne-need to, bec-because you wanted to.”

Sam nodded, Y/N smiling slightly at him as they both acknowledged her fate. She knew Sam would be okay. He was strong, and he could handle this. Y/N was sure of that.

But her smile faded as she turned her head to look at Dean, who was on the cusp of falling apart. Y/N squeezed his hand. “Dean.”

The man looked up at her with the most broken, sorrowful eyes. Y/N exhaled shakily, pulling her hand out of his grasp to lift it to his face, cupping his cheek. “I’m n-not leaving. I’ll al-always be... right h-here.”

She lowered her hand to his heart, Dean placing his large hand over her smaller one. Y/N smiled softly, feeling the darkness blur her vision.

“Pl-please... hold me...” Y/N’s voice cracked, the two brothers immediately pulling their arms around her. Sam sobbed into her shoulder as Dean placed his hand on the back of her head, still holding Y/N’s hand to his chest.

She could feel warmth envelope her body, but Y/N held off, fearful of what would happen if she left.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” Dean asked, as tears silently traced down his cheeks.

“I need to kn-know you’ll be okay. I need you to—“ Y/N broke off as she swallowed a sob rising from her throat. “I n-need you to tell me you’ll both be o-okay.”

Dean’s grip on her hand tighted, the man squeezing his eyes shut before pulling away from embracing his sister, nodding through tears as he forced his ever-so-charming smile.

“Yeah sweetheart. We’ll be okay.” Dean sniffed, smiling as he struggled not to fall apart.

“You can let go.”

Y/N exhaled, her face loosening into a neutral expression, one full of peace and finality. She squeezed Dean’s hand one last time before her eyes fluttered shut, her body slacking into Sam’s.

The barn was silent as Dean felt her hand go limp in his, his façade morphing into shock as he struggled to breathe, Sam crying out.

Suddenly Dean’s face began to contort into a painful expression, the tears gathering as a sob ripped from his throat.

His baby sister was gone.

Y/N inhaled deeply, opening her eyes. A soft breeze blew through her hair, her eyes adjusting to her surroundings.

She stood in the valley of a beautiful mountain range, the foliage sporting beautiful shades of green, orange, and yellow. Y/N took a few steps forward, looking around. “Hello?”

“Y/N.”

The girl spun on her heel, stumbling back as her breath caught in her throat. John Winchester, her father, stood before her, considerably younger than when she met him for the first time in the bunker.

“Dad?” Y/N gasped out.

The man smiled, opening his arms. Y/N rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around him, letting her eyes close as she hugged him tightly.

John chuckled. “Welcome home, kiddo.”

Y/N smiled, truly smiled, as suddenly numerous visions flooded her head:

Dean, carrying a little girl through a park, her shirt embroidered with the name “Y/N”.

Sam, marrying Eileen and hunting with her.

A white picket fence in the front yard, photo frames scattered on shelves.

Sam teaching his son to play catch.

Dean, eating pie with his teenage daughter.

Y/N opened her eyes, her smile widening. Her destiny wasn’t so much as to die, though she had to. No, it was much more complex than that.

Y/N’s destiny was to give her brothers the lives they deserved.

“It’s good to be home.”

————————————————————

tags: @writeroutoftime

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

my tears ricochet

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death, and funeral]

word count: 4829

[a/n: sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy. I thought once I was done for the semester I would have a lot more time to work on my stories, but if anything my summer break has been more hectic. Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean I haven't been working on them. Just know that I am working on the new chapters for this and for TKWBA, just need a bit of patience from you all. Also thank-you for the continue love and support on all my work]

Series Masterlist

Tag list info here [if you want to be tagged please read this]

Age: 21

Year: Sep. 2015

Location: Brooklyn, NY & Stanford, CA

Elizabeth was sat at her desk doing her homework. She was anxiously waiting for Steve's call about the baby arriving. He had called her two hours prior to let her know that Natasha had gone into labor, and they were at the hospital. Steve told her that he'd call her as soon as he heard the news. She tried her hardest to focus on her homework, but she found herself constantly checking her phone for any updates.

Suddenly her phone started going off. She instantly picked it up and answered the call.

"Is the baby here?" She immediately asked.

"Liz," Steve choked out.

"Steve, what's wrong?" She could hear the distress in his voice.

"Natasha, she," he tried to say but the words got caught in his throat, and she could hear the soft cries.

"Steve, breathe," she tries to calm him down the best she could without actually physically being with him.

Elizabeth was simultaneously trying to keep herself calm, and not rush into any assumptions.

"She died," he said after calming himself down enough to tell her what happened.

"She died?"

"I guess there were complications, he tells her, still unsure of what exactly happened.

Steve hadn't thought to ask further into what exactly happened when Bucky's mom called to tell him the devastating news. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was telling him. He just never imagined that this would be the outcome of his best friend welcoming his first child into the world.

Steve clears his throat trying to force the lump back down.

"I'm catching the next flight out to New York," he tells Elizabeth, "I just gotta be there for Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," she says, completely understanding.

"I know you can't exactly fly out now, without letting your professors know, so as soon as I find out all the funeral," his throat catches at the word, he takes a small breath, "all the funeral information I'll let you know."

"Okay that works," she agrees.

"Okay. I haven't to pack real quick and get to the airport within the next hour," he tells her.

"Okay, I'll let you go."

"Wait, Steve," she calls out before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she says with a shaky voice.

"I love you too, so much," he says, "I'll text you when I board the plane."

After one final goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

The flight seemed like Steve's longest one he's ever been on. As soon as he landed he quickly grabbed his carry on, the only thing aside from his backpack that he brought with him. Elizabeth had messaged him letting him know that she could bring more of his stuff once she flies out.

Steve made his way out of the airport to find his mom waiting for him by her car. He quickly made his way towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

On the drive to Bucky's apartment Steve sent Liz a text letting her know he landed. He then called Bucky's mom to let her know he was on the way.

"Thank-you for coming out Steve," Winnie thanks him, "The baby is just about to get discharged, we should be at the apartment before you get there."

"Of course, I'll see you guys soon," he says hanging up the phone.

Steve then sends a quick email to his boss and professors explains his absence and why he'll most likely be gone for a couple of weeks.

An hour later Steve's mom was stopping outside of Bucky's building.

"Let them know I'm here if they need anything," his mom tells him before he exists the car, "I'll come back at noon with lunch for everyone."

"Thanks Mom," he says leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Steve exists the car leaving his bags with his mom. He takes one final breath before walking to the front doors. Steve presses the call button for Bucky's apartment and was immediately buzzed in.

As soon as he reaches Bucky's door, he knocks quietly. The door opens and he's welcomed by Rebecca. He takes in the sullen face on the teenage girl.

"Hey Bec," he says.

"Hi," she quietly says, as they hug each other in the door way.

When they pull apart she steps aside letting him inside.

"It's just my parents and I here. Bucky didn't want to deal with a lot of people right now," she explains to Steve.

"Steve," he hears from his left, Keith, Bucky's stepdad makes his way out of the small kitchenette over to him, and embracing him, "Thank-you so much for coming. We know you're a very busy person."

Before Steve could respond Bucky's mom Winnie walks into the living room.

"Oh Steve," she immediately wraps her arms around him.

"Thank-you so much for coming on such a short notice," she says. Steve could hear the shakiness in her voice. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. No doubt the last 12 hours being the most stressful and emotional she's ever been.

"There's no need to thank me. This is where I need to be," he tells them.

"Let us at least pay you back for the flight," Keith says.

"No, don't worry about that," Steve waves him off, "I had a lot of miles that needed to be used."

"Well, thank-you again," Keith nods his head, understanding where Steve was coming from.

"You can go on ahead Steve. Bucky is waiting for you in the nursery," Winnie tells him, giving him an assuring nod, he nods back making his way towards the nursery.

The short walk seemed like it was much longer. Steve has never felt so nervous in his life. When he approaches the closed door, he softly knocks on it.

"Come in," Bucky calls from inside.

Steve walks in, closing the door behind him. He's immediately greeted by Bucky sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeding his newborn daughter.

"Hey," Steve softly says, not sure what to say.

"Hey," Bucky greeted Steve with a sad smile.

It had been 12 hours later and it still didn't feel real to Bucky. The hospital had even offered the chance for him and Poppy to stay a couple of days, but all Bucky wanted to do was to go home and get away from the hospital. But now being back in the apartment without Natasha was surreal. He was trying his best to keep it all in, at least while the baby is awake and needs him.

He was determined in being the one that cared for her, even when his mom offered to take care of her for a few hours while he gets some rest. He assured her that he needed to do this. He had to do it alone, because he knew that soon enough it would just be him and Poppy.

Bucky was very grateful when he heard Steve was flying out. He felt like Steve was the only one he could really talk to about everything going on.

Steve was still standing by the door, just watching his best friend be a dad for the first time. He had no idea what to say in this kind of situation. The words were caught in his throat the moment he actually saw Bucky.

"Thanks for coming," Bucky says breaking the silence. Steve immediately looks away from the baby to meet Bucky's eyes.

"You would've done the same thing," Steve says, "And like I've said before, I'll always be here for you."

"I don't care how far, I'll always be on that first flight to you," Steve continues, he glances down at the now sleepy baby, "You're my brother Buck."

There was a moment of silence between the young men. Both understanding what the other one means with such few words.

Steve watched as Bucky gently placed the sleepy baby on his shoulder to burp her.

"It suits you," Steve quietly remarks.

"What?" Bucky looked up at him confused.

"Fatherhood, it suits you," Steve says again, stepping closer to his friend.

"You think?" Bucky looks back down at the now sleeping baby.

"Yeah. I know it's only been less than a day, but you look natural. Make it look easy."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, getting up for the he chair and walking over to the crib to gently place Poppy in.

Steve walked over, standing next to Bucky, watching the little one sleep peacefully.

"What's her name?" Steve whispered, realizing that he hadn't found out what the name of the baby was.

"Poppy James Barnes," Bucky proudly says.

"That's cute," Steve commented, he placed his right hand on Bucky's left shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Bucky looked over at Steve and they both nodded their heads in agreement, before falling into an embrace.

"I am so sorry," Steve quietly says.

"It happened so quick, she barely even got to see the baby," Bucky quietly cried into Steve's shoulder, "I never even thought of this would be the outcome. I never imagined I'd be coming home solo with the baby."

Steve tightened his embrace on Bucky, just listening to his friend.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this Steve. I don't know how I'm going to raise her without her mom. I'm trying to keep it together to not worry my mom, but fuck Steve, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared I'll screw this all up. I'm scared I'll screw her up.

"I'm so scared Steve," Bucky cries.

"It's okay to be scared," Steve tries his best to comfort Bucky, "I'd be more concerned if you weren't scared. This is entirely new territory for you. You're raising a child, a child who unfortunately no longer has her mother. That alone is a fucking terrifying thing to go through.

"It's not going to be easy. There's no point in lying to you, and saying it will. You and I both that won't be the truth. But if there's anyone I know who could do this, it's you Buck. You're the strongest person I know. Whatever has happened before this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is that little girl. And I know damn well you're going to give her the best life she will ever have," Steve pulls away from Bucky and holds onto his shoulders.

"And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you, and now Poppy. You will never be alone. You'll always have someone to call, someone to help you. You're crazy to think we would ever leave you to do this alone. We're here, and we're not going anywhere. You and Poppy will never have to be alone. She might not have her mom, but she's got you, and I know damn well you won't ever let her wonder what being without one parent truly feels like.

"You've got this Buck," Steve assures him, "And we're here every step of the way."

"Thanks Steve," Bucky sniffles, wiping the tears away.

"No need to thank me," Steve smiles, "Now why don't you go take a nap. Get some rest. We're here if Poppy wakes up."

"Yeah I could use some sleep," Bucky yawns, his adrenaline from the last 12 hours fading away.

Steve walks Bucky to his bedroom and watches as he gets into his bed, and quickly falls asleep. He quietly closes the door behind him, with the baby monitor in one hand checking to make sure Poppy is still asleep.

He walks back into the living room, placing the monitor by the tv for everyone to see and hear.

"They're both asleep," Steve announces to the room.

"Oh thank goodness," Winnie sighs, "James hasn't taken a moment to rest since everything happened."

"Knowing Bucky, we'll probably have to be forcing him to rest for the next couple of weeks," Steve says.

"I just got off of the phone with Natasha's father," Keith said walking back inside the apartment.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"He said that the funeral is all up to us," Keith sighs, "Something about how Natasha made her own path with getting pregnant, and that once she left she was no longer his responsibility."

"He really said that?" Winnie asked mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Keith sighed, "I tried reasoning with him saying we would handle everything financially and he can come to the funeral but he said no."

"What kind of father doesn't show up to his own daughter's funeral," Winnie shakes her head in complete disbelief.

"Explains why Natasha was the way she was," Rebecca whispered, so that only Steve could hear her.

He reluctantly agrees.

Two weeks later

Elizabeth was helping Steve with his tie in his childhood bedroom. She had flown in yesterday for today's funeral services. Elizabeth had gotten in late last night, so she still hasn't seen Bucky or Poppy yet. She was a let to get a week off of work and her professors gave her an extension on her assignments when she explained to them what happened.

"I still can't believe Natasha's dad isn't going," she says as she straightens out Steve's tie.

"Bucky's mom is still holding out hope that he shows up," Steve says.

"What does Bucky think of it all?" Elizabeth asks.

"He's not worrying about it," Steve explains, looking over himself in the mirror, "His only concern right now is Poppy and only Poppy. If Nat's dad shows up then he does. But as of now Bucky has made the decision that he will not be in Poppy's life. Not until he proves himself."

"That's very mature," she says grabbing her purse.

"This Buck is like a whole new one you've never seen before. Fatherhood has made him a thousand times more grown up these last couple of weeks."

"That's good."

"Ready to go?" Steve asked her, grabbing the keys to his mom's car.

"Yup," Elizabeth says following Steve out.

Bucky had asked Steve to pick him and Poppy up, and Steve had of course agreed.

They arrived to Bucky's apartment in fifteen minutes. Walking up to Bucky's door they could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside. Steve used the key Bucky gave him to let himself and Elizabeth in.

As soon as they walked in they were greeted by the sounds of a baby crying.

"Buck?" Steve called out.

"We're in here," he calls from the nursery.

They go to the nursery to find Bucky looking frazzled while trying to change Poppy's diaper.

"I'm so sorry. I'm running so behind," Bucky tells them, glancing over his shoulder quickly,

"Poppy didn't sleep well last night. And nothing I've tried has been working."

"It's okay Buck, just take your time," Steve calmly says.

"I still need to shower, shave, and get dressed," Bucky rambles, "She's going to need another change of clothes because she spat all over herself, and my mom only bought this one outfit for today."

"Hey Bucky, calm down," Elizabeth calmly spoke up, placing her hand on his back, "Take a breath."

Bucky felt the warmth and comfort from Liz's touch. He listens to what she says and takes a deep breath.

"Okay good," she says, "now you go get ready. Steve and I got this."

"Okay," he nods his head, handing the baby over to Elizabeth, "thank-you."

"Of course," she softly smiles at him, "now go get ready."

Bucky quickly makes his way out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Elizabeth looks down at the small baby in her arms. She could see so much of Bucky in the baby with hints of Natasha. It was a little strange for her to be holding Bucky's baby and it not being her baby as well. Not that she ever wanted to get back together with Bucky, because she didn't. There was just a little voice in her head, that of her teenage self, saying how it was supposed to be them, doing this together.

She quickly shut the voice down.

Elizabeth was incredibly sympathetic of Bucky's situation. All she wanted to do was be there for him, as a friend. She wanted Bucky to succeed as a father, and she would do what she could to make that happen.

Steve silently watched Elizabeth watching Poppy. He couldn't really read her expression. He hates to admit it to himself, especially with everything going on, but he was slightly worried about how Liz would react to all of this. He had faith in their relationship, of course he trusted her immensely. But he still couldn't help but feel like she might decide to leave him for Bucky. Elizabeth turned around to see Steve looking at her with a distant look in his eyes.

"You good?" She gently asked, breaking him from his self-destructive thoughts.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah," she nods her head, handing the baby over to him, "I'm going to try and find her a new outfit.

"Okay," Steve says sitting down with the baby.

"I love you," Liz quietly says to Steve, knowing what could possibly going through his mind, if hers was also wandering.

"I love you," Steve replies back, finding himself relaxing at just hearing those three words, any doubt slipping away.

30 minutes later Bucky was ready to go. He walked out to the living room where he found Steve and Elizabeth sitting with each other holding the baby. He paused for a moment taking in the scene in front of him. He felt a sense of warmth and low flow through him as his closest friends admire his daughter. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision in what he would tell them next.

Steve glanced up to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the hallway.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you two something before we go," Bucky says walking over and sitting on a chair next to the couch.

"Sure, what's up?" Steve leans forward, leaning on his knees, giving Bucky his full attention.

Elizabeth tears her eyes away from Poppy to also give Bucky her full attention. She smiles at him, letting him know he could continue on.

"I first and foremost just want to thank you Steve, for what probably is the hundredth time," Bucky says, "I know you have a lot going on with work and school. So I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Poppy. And you too Elizabeth, I know you're incredibly busy especially with law school prep. And with everything that's happened between-"

"Don't," she stopped him, "What's past is past."

"Well anyways, thank-you," Bucky says, "Now here comes what I wanted to ask you two. There's no other two people I wouldn't trust more with Poppy. So I wanted to ask if you would be her godparents?"

"Really?" Elizabeth asked taken back by Bucky's request.

"Yes," he nods his head, "There's no one else I wouldn't trust with her if anything happens. It'll help me sleep better knowing she'll have two people who'll love her like I would. Two people who have so much love between them, that I know will always be together."

Both Steve and Elizabeth were taken back by Bucky's last statement. They knew Bucky had accepted their relationship, but to actually have him not only say it out loud but to practically give them his blessing, it meant the world to the couple.

Steve and Elizabeth both share a look with tears glistening in their eyes. Elizabeth nods her head.

Steve turns back to Bucky, "We'd be honored to be Poppy's godparents."

Elizabeth and Steve stood up to hug Bucky. All filled with a wide range of emotions. Bucky felt a huge sense of comfort after asking Liz and Steve to be Poppy's godparents. He knew he made the right decision, and he knew he could now sleep better at night knowing his daughter would be taken care of. And by two people he knows can love her the way he does.

After what happened with Natasha, Bucky just wanted to make sure Poppy would be taken care of. If she couldn't have her parents, then she would have the closest thing to having parents. And Bucky knows Steve and Elizabeth would be amazing parents.

That alone allowed him to be at peace for whatever may happen.

Arriving to the funeral location Bucky felt his nerves start to spike. He sat in the backseat looking out the window at the familiar faces walking into the chapel.

"You okay?" Elizabeth asked turning in her seat, after Steve parked the car.

"I don't know if I can do this," he mutters, glancing towards the sleeping baby in the car seat next to him.

"We'll be right next to you along the entire way," Liz calmly says.

"If you feel too overwhelmed we'll leave whenever you want," Steve tells him, "We won't stay if you absolutely can't handle it. No one will hold it against you."

"Okay," Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Stay here, I'll get the stroller out," Steve says, getting out of the car.

"No one is expecting you to be brave, Buck," Elizabeth says, "You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to show emotions."

He nods his head, taking in what she's telling him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace. Clutching onto it as if his life depended on it.

Elizabeth catches the small 'N' on it, realizing that that was the necklace Natasha wore everyday since she was 13.

Bucky takes one final deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay, I'm ready," he tells her.

"Okay, let's do this."

Bucky was grateful that they arrived only minutes before the service started. Everyone was already seated in the pews.

He slowly walked down the aisle pushing the stroller, Steve and Elizabeth walking right behind him.

Bucky tried his best to avoid any eye contact with everyone. He couldn't bare to look at the pity in their eyes.

He caught sight of his family siting in the second row. He also noticed a man sitting alone in the first row.

He instantly knew who it was.

Once Bucky reached the first row, the man made to movement to greet Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Mr. Romanoff."

The older man looked over at Bucky, then at the stroller.

"James," he stiffly said, turning his attention back to the front.

Bucky awkwardly sat down placing the stroller next to his legs, away from Natasha's father, while Steve and Elizabeth sat next to Bucky.

The service was going smoothly up until the priest announced that Natasha's father would be making a speech, catching everyone off guard.

Bucky looked at the older man as he walked up to the stand. He turned around to face his mom, "Did you know this?" he whispered.

"No I didn't," she shook her head.

Right as Mr. Romanoff was about to start speaking, Poppy began to cry. Bucky quickly went to get her out of the stroller, while Steve quickly went to grab a bottle to help him out.

As soon as the baby calmed down Mr. Romanoff began to speak.

"First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for coming," he begins, "I really appreciate it. Natasha would be eternally grateful for all of you."

Bucky started to get annoyed by the beginning of Mr. Romanoff's speech. As if the man didn't turn down the invitation for the last two weeks. Now he's trying to act like the perfect father, as if he didn't kick her out and cut off his pregnant daughter.

"Natasha was a kind hearted person. Only wanting the best for those closest to her. She was the most selfless person you would have ever met," he continued on with his speech.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be confused by Mr. Romanoff's speech. She hated thinking ill of the dead, but that man had no idea who his daughter truly was.

"Natasha was so smart, earning her way into Yale. She was only months away from graduating. I was so incredibly proud of her. If only we would've gotten the opportunity to watch her walk across the stage.

"Other than leaving an everlasting impression on all of us, she also left behind a part of her. Her last moments on Earth was spent bringing in another Romanoff," he says.

Bucky's head snapped up to Mr. Romanoff, then towards Steve.

"Romanoff?" Bucky whispered, "This man has the fucking nerve."

"Ignore him," Steve whispered back, trying to calm Bucky down, "He's just saying all of this to make himself look good."

"Natasha brought her daughter into the world," Mr. Romanoff continued, forcing fake tears to fall, "I remember being by her side as she was in labor."

Bucky clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to call Mr. Romanoff out on his lies.

"As she was dying," Mr. Romanoff paused for dramatic effect, "Her only request was to name her daughter after her."

Steve paled his hand on Bucky's shoulder, trying his best to calm him down. It was too late, Bucky was already placing Poppy in Steve's arms.

"What a fucking lie," Bucky stood up shouting at Mr. Romanoff, causing everyone to gasp.

"James," Mr. Romanoff said through gritted teeth, as a warning.

"How could you just lie to all these people?" Bucky shouted, "How could you lie as if you didn't disown Natasha months prior when she told you she was pregnant. Or when my parents kept inviting you to the funeral, you kept saying no and how Natasha's decisions led to their death. How dare you say you were in the delivery room. As if you didn't have her number blocked.  My mom and I were there when things took a horrible turn. We were there when the doctor walked out and told us Natasha didn't make it. Not you! Us!

"Then you go on to make some shitty story about Nat's last words. Which is completely false. Natasha never wanted to name the baby after herself, you'd actually know that if you were actually present in her life. But you weren't. And you sure as hell will never be a part of your granddaughter's life."

Bucky turned to Steve and Liz, "Let's go."

They nodded their heads and helped put Poppy in the stroller. They followed Bucky as he walked out of the chapel.

After leaving the funeral services, Steve was able to calm Bucky down. Winnie had called Elizabeth to let her know that the burial services the next day were officially going to be private. Liz agreed that that'd be best for everyone involved. Especially with what happened during the funeral services.

The burial service was only attended by Bucky, and his family, along with Elizabeth and Steve.

Everything went along smoothly. Everyone giving Bucky the safe space to grieve.

After the burial, everyone gave Bucky a few moments alone at the grave site so he can say his final goodbyes.

"Hey Nat," he pauses taking a deep breath, "these last two weeks haven't been the easiest. But boy have they been amazing. I may be more exhausted than I've ever been, but boy is she worth it.

"She may only be two weeks but I can already tell she's going to be the most amazing person ever," he softly cries, "You would've loved her so much. But like I promised back at the hospital, she'll never not know who her mother was. I will always make sure she knows who you were. Always."

"Goodbye Natasha," he whispered, before walking away to join his family waiting.

Age: 26

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: 2020

"Daddy, what's this?" Poppy calls out to her father from his bedroom.

"What's what petal?" He asked walking into the room, finding her surrounded by boxes, as they prep for their move uptown.

"This," she holds up the small necklace with the 'N'.

Bucky kept that necklace in a small box in his nightstand. He kept it at the bottom of his nightstand for safe keepings. Planning on one day to give it to his daughter. He always planned to wait until she was 16, but he figures now is as good as ever.

"That was your mommy Natasha's," he said walking over to her, and sitting next to her on his bed, "She got it when she was 13, and wore it every day up until when she died."

"It's pretty," she says admiring it in her hands.

"It is isn't it," he smiles at his little girl, "It's now yours."

He grabs the necklace from her little hands. He unclasps it, then gently moves her dirty blonde hair to the side. He places the necklace around her neck, and clasps it shut.

"Thank-you daddy," she smiles brightly at her father, admiring the necklace that now lay on her chest.

Bucky smiled at his daughter, watching as she kept admiring the necklace. It was a little big on her, but he knew she would grow into it.

"Anything for you baby," he kisses the top of her head, "Anything."

[telaraneas]

(i change my mind, copypasting this to its own post cause it really got away from me. long post warning)

i guess what im thinkin is like, that light is the domain of “things that MUST happen, for Reasons”; mind is the domain of “things must/will happen, for REASONS”; void is the domain of, like, “things happen or don’t happen for no discernible reason, necessarily”.

thats not really a great description of it i guess but, for instance, a good example is that one time Rosesprite happened…. For No Reason. and for no reason, really i mean no narrative reason- it ended up setting off a chain of events that resolved the subplots of many minor characters, so it’s not like it’s USELESS, but there was kind of no way to predict that whole thing from a “narratively this is something that we are leading up to” standpoint, which is why roxy’s actions brought it about on accident, and why rose was so thoroughly perplexed by it the whole way through. void is probably closer to the way things happen in real life, but it is sort of the anthitesis to the way things happen in stories, where everything is deliberate and happens for A Narrative Reason… but homestuck was always largely written on the fly at least in the smaller scale things, so this sort of thing just Happens lol

incidentally im pretty sure a mind player like terezi could have technically predicted that, if she had for any reason at all been previously informed of all the moving parts of that whole thing and TRYING to predict what the fuck jaspersprite was gonna do, because it IS perfectly logical in hindsight, but like… that’s the whole thing, why the fuck WOULD you be trying to look into that or predict it????? there was seemingly no narrative reason for any of that to be relevant! and that’s kind of what void is about i think!

on a similar note i thing breath is more along the lines of just…. Things Happen. similarly to void, it’s not about trying to discern WHAT will happen or WHY, but unlike void, the things that DO happen under the influence of breath ARE kind of things that the narrative called for. breath seems to be kind of the aspect dominating narrative contrivance

people often confuse contrivance with plot holes, but from what i understand they’re very different. a plot hole is when something happens, and it makes no sense for it to happen to the degree it breaks with previously established known facts, and it’s just never explained.

a plot contrivance doesn’t really contradict anything, necessarily, it’s just… like… there’s no reason for it to NOT happen the way it does, but there’s also no reason for it TO happen the way it does, and overall the reason it’s considered bad writing is because it tends to come across as lazy. oh, the heroes JUST SO HAPPENED to find the one magic sword that can defeat the bad guy, just laying on the side of the road. how convenient!

…incidentally, john’s entire story arc seems to be built entirely around moments like these skfnkenfke

i think it was smart writing to codify this as 1. the influence of an actual cosmic force that DOES operate on those principles, and 2. make john have to figure out how to get a handle on things by himself, even if the tools and circumstances just happened to be aligned in his favor by everything else in the story. john still has to be the one to turn HIMSELF into a deus ex machina, on-screen, to fix everything. it gives the story a good narrative and emotionally resonant reason to just contrive the hell out of everything john does and goes through, while STILL delivering on his arc as a hero’s journey

(i also think it’s really funny that the ring, which gets LITERALLY deus ex machina’d into the story via the author himself, is CONVENIENTLY found by tavros, and john CONVENIENTLY ends up with it in the story itself sjfnskdn true breath shenanigans, and incredibly fitting that vriska rejected it and played no part in it because there was no previously known indication that the ring would be important in any way until the two breath players started playing hot potato with it)

i’m still not sure if i have a good grasp on what exactly time does, because we have seen very different attitudes taken towards it by various different players AND the official description, and it’s hard to tell what, in each regard, comes from time as an aspect, from the classes of the characters, or from the characters themselves/both things; but for now i think my best guess is that time is kind of “things already happened, this is inmutable, let’s just cut to the chase”, more or less. like, the way this differs from light is that light still thinks of things more or less linearly, even when they UNDERSTAND this is not the case, whereas time tends to just not even concieve of things has “something that is happening”

like, example, vriska vs aradia; they both kind of enabled Big Bad Things that they already knew would happen via timeline shenanigans- but from what i recall, i don’t think aradia ever PERSONALLY set any of those events in motion, she simply didn’t correct any misunderstandings and thus allowed the wheels of time to turn smoothly; whereas vriska went “bec noir Will Happen = someone will make it happen anyways = i’m gonna make it happen myself, cause someone has to, and it might as well be me!!!” because of her compulsion to be the master of her own fate

aradia didnt so much see her actions as her *doing* anything, evil or good; she was pretty much just making sure things ended up where they were already going to end up/had already ended up, devoid of motivation or reason. similar to dave in the first five acts, just opening and closing loops Because He’s Gotta until he eventually runs out of steam and loops to close, because he really never had any motivations for doing what he was doing other than Well, I Already Did Them, So Obviously I Have To Do Them So I Can Have Already Done Them. no intent or motivation inherent to the actions themselves for half the story

a more childish example is caliborn getting fed up with the story and the Interpersonal Problems of the players and being like “fuck this, just skip to the good parts, they’re Going to happen so why do we have to sit through all of this shit!”. obv contrast to calliope, who seems to illustrate the kind of reader who would rather explore the status quo forever and imagine all the character interactions possible, playing in the *space* of the work in between the big status quo shifts and dreading said shifts, where caliborn wants to skip right past the status quo and have a story composed of nothing BUT the big shifts, the start and end of things

(neither of these are a sustainable way to tell a story, which is why you need at least a space and a time player)

[kalee60]

I wish you would write a fic where stucky are mad at each other for some reason but get forced into the same tiny escape pod and spend a very interesting hour pressed so tight together on their way back to the surface...

Not going to lie Bec - when I first saw this prompt, my mind immediately went one way, and one way only - and I'm pretty sure you just played me like a fiddle with this idea of yours and knew exactly what I'd write.

So please take this humble offering, you are literally my greatest support and I would not be here without you gorgeous ❤️ my adoration for you is endless for our unique and special bond x

The fic is just over 4k and also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Truth or Dare and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

"Are you freaking kidding me right now Rogers?" Bucky shouted as he tried to wrest control of the tiny submarine, or whatever the fucking contraption Stark had purpose built for underwater expeditions, from his meathead best friend who never had a plan. "What the hell was that?"

Steve glared over at Bucky, who scowled back. "I had it under control."

"Under control, my ass. You ran us into a goddamn rock, a rock so sharp we now have a leak - and guess what? We just happen to be about three miles under the sea!"

"I - " Steve started to say then stopped abruptly to slam at the controls before him in the dim lighting, trying to unwedge the small vessel off the rock.

"Don't! Fuck Steve, leave it, don't get us off the rock - we'll tear apart if you do." The sharp edge of panic amidst his anger was clear.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." Steve ground out.

The panic immediately disappeared leaving only ire behind, "I highly doubt that by looking at the trouble you got us into. I thought partnering up with Sam was a pain in the ass for those few months, but I'd somehow forgotten what you were like."

Bucky heard Steve grinding his teeth, and satisfaction filled him that Steve was at least angry at their hopeless situation, one he was solely to blame for.

They’d been tasked to go to the Raft - one of the inmates had managed to escape - Namor, and although Bucky thought it was way out of their scope of skills to be chasing a literal being that came from the ocean, who had super strength and a huge advantage by, well, being able to breathe underwater, the Avengers assembled and it was left to Cap, no, Nomad and Bucky to sort it out.

At first, the mission was fine and on track, they were given the craft from Stark, Steve assuring both Bucky and the cocky self-appointed head Avenger, that he'd used it many times over on missions, and away they went. Bucky had realised after an hour at sea as they dove deeper and deeper, Bucky wide-eyed at all the sealife and fish that swam into the lights from the craft, that Steve looked a little peaky, a little sweaty. Apparently, after some hard prodding, Steve admitted he'd only taken it out for a few runs in the East River and had never been in the ocean with it.

Bucky was fuming.

He became even angrier when they found Namor, and Steve without any hesitation hit a button that harpooned a weapon from the undercarriage, missing the man completely and hitching it on a nearby rock, careening them towards it. Bucky was certain he saw a smirk and a laugh from their quarry as he swam off - uncaptured. Free.

It was, in fact - quite humiliating for two usually competent supersoldiers.

So now they were fixed tightly onto a jutting rock bed, water leaking slowly into the vessel and Steve was acting like a massive stubborn child about their situation. Especially when they realised they couldn’t call for assistance - they were too deep for a signal.

As a starfish floated by and suckered itself to the window, making a home there, Bucky was starting to wonder if they'd get out of the situation in one piece. They may have the serum running through their veins, but he was certain drowning was still on the scope of things that could kill them. He glanced at Steve who was still pressing buttons - that and along with an irate best friend who had a penchant for knives.

The urge to strangle Steve and his handsomely stubborn face rose with each and every breath, and he couldn't fathom why he was in love with such an imbecile. Bucky, glad that Steve wasn’t aware of where his feelings lay, not wanting to openly tell such an idiot he loved him; though Bucky hadn’t really had an opportunity to approach Steve about it, unsure if he ever would find the courage to bring it up.

Plus right then... right in that moment as they floated and bobbed in the undercurrent while beady eyed fish approached them curiously, Bucky was livid and was certain that even if Steve turned to him to profess his undying love - Bucky would punch him in the face.

“What do you propose we do then smarty pants?”

Bucky’s mouth formed a tight line at the old taunt.

“I suggest we get into the escape pod and head for the surface.”

“What? And give up?”

“Give up Steve? Of course we give up. What the fuck do you think we can do?” Bucky exclaimed, as Steve grumbled into the small space. “For a brilliant strategist you sure are an absolute ninny sometimes.”

“A ninny?” Steve burst out in horrified disbelief.

Bucky felt his lip twitch and almost laughed at Steve’s expression and the absurdity of their situation that by calling Steve a ninny, is what pissed him off the most.

“The only way we can do anything of any use now, is if Namor comes back and surrenders. And I don’t think he’s about to do that, considering he sped off laughing when you marooned us on this damn rock. One I might add that has more strength and the ability to stay calm and think more rationally than you.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to a rock?”

“If the Cap fits.”

“Really?” Steve deadpanned at Bucky’s admittedly terrible attempt at humour.

And before Bucky could say anything further, potentially offer a simple truce, a large shadow loomed above them and Bucky was instantly caught in the beauty and grace of the huge marine animal swimming overhead, close enough Bucky could reach out and touch if there wasn’t glass between them. It looked to be a shark of some type and Bucky was captivated by the smooth skin, the sheer mass and the tail that flicked; until that same large tail hit the vessel on one of it’s sweeps, dislodging it from the rock.

With a triumphant yell, Steve pushed on the accelerator as Bucky yelled at him to stop, and suddenly the whole craft shook and groaned, creaking as the very structure started to unhinge.

“Jesus fuck, Steve. Get in the escape pod now!”

Steve for the first time since they entered the vessel listened to Bucky, and they both jumped up and scrambled for the pods that were situated behind their seats, opening the escape hatches - only to find one empty, and the other thankfully still in place.

“Shit, Tony.” Bucky swore. “Don’t you know about the Titanic? Always have enough damn life rafts. Fuck.”

“We can fit.” Steve said matter of fact and opened the hatch door, just as the thick glass from the front of the craft splintered, water spurting through and a loud cracking filled the space. Bucky’s heart thumped hard and fast at the danger they were in, his Soldier training all but useless in the face of this new terror.

Bucky pushed Steve, who yelped at being manhandled into the small space, and Bucky jumped right in, landing on top of Steve, their faces only inches apart - and that face did not look happy.

They had just enough room for Steve to hit the big red button that closed the pod, and an automated voice immediately filled the area.

“Releasing in three, two - one.” 

The voice went silent as the capsule whooshed out of the craft, and Bucky was on the correct side to see through the glass over Steve’s shoulder, the lights of the vessel flickering as it tore apart from the pressure of the water. Bucky let out a shaky breath that they’d escaped in time.

“Calculating your trajectory and location,” the voice began, then went silent for a few seconds, “you will breach the surface in just under two hours.”

“Two hours.” Bucky griped and wiggled, Steve hissing for him to ‘quit it’. The voice continued on in its modulated voice.

“Due to your depth, the emergency pod has been slowed to ensure you rise at the correct rate so you do not suffer any complications.”

“Complications,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing with the serum it was unlikely they’d get sick. “I’ve got a big bearded one right in front of me. I think that’s complicated enough - just get us to the surface quickly.”

The voice droned on about protocols and safety features for a few minutes and mentioned when it came into range it would send a distress call to FRIDAY for assistance. Finally some good news, because all Bucky could think about was the fact the enormous shark was not in sight. He hoped it was long gone.

“Can you move your damn leg?" Steve hissed, shaking Bucky from his contemplation of why he insisted on watching Jaws a few weeks earlier.

But it was the tone Steve used that irked Bucky further, and ever helpful, he moved his leg back and forth like a petulant kid. “That enough movement for you?”

“Buck, your damn knife is digging into my thigh. Actually why in the hell are you wearing it on an underwater mission in the first place?”

“Why did you bring your shield?” Bucky countered, not wanting to tell Steve about the other seven knives in his pants.

“That’s not really comparable.”

“It is.” Bucky replied sullenly, knowing it wasn’t at all. 

Steve sighed heavily, and they spent a good fifteen minutes without conversing, not even daring to look at the other in the soft green-tinged light from the control panel where Bucky could read their glacially paced progress as they headed for the surface. They were still so far down.

“Truth or dare? Steve suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Are you for real? Now?” Bucky asked incredulously. “Look, I know that game worked when we were kids - but read the damn room, well, pod.”

Steve didn’t respond as the charged air between them rose in silent intensity.

“Truth.” Bucky finally bit out after a long minute.

“Why did you bring knives on an underwater mission?”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t let up, do you? Why am I even surprised, it’s Steven Grant Rogers asking. Because Steve, I take them everywhere. You know this. I might have had to stab some seaweed for being rude to your delicate sensibilities or something. And don't you dare try and say they haven’t gotten us out of tough spots before.”

Steve harrumphed, “I’m hardly delicate.”

“Sure thing.”

They fell silent again, until Bucky gave in and sighed heavily. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you lie and say you knew how to drive the boat?”

“Bucky, you don’t drive a boat.”

“Yeah, well you proved that without a doubt.”

Steve tensed up, Bucky experiencing Steve’s muscles bunching together against his body from being so close, he swallowed heavily. 

“I thought I had it handled. How difficult could it be?”

“Steve…” Bucky started, stopped then sighed, “Steve, you need to actually be truthful with me, to the Avengers, especially if you need help. You don’t have to prove that you have it together all the time, every time. That’s what I’m for.”

“So you’re saying you could have piloted the boat?”

“Is piloted correct? But in answer - no, I couldn’t have. So we would have found a better way.” 

“Buck, he’s an underwater being, what else were we going to do but try and follow him down here?”

Bucky remained quiet thinking over the options. When the call went out, only Steve and he were available for the mission, so in a way Steve was correct, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Steve moved suddenly in an unintentional grind, and a spark flew down Bucky’s spine, shit, they were close, really close, and through his initial fear and anger, Bucky hadn’t really thought about the situation he’d inadvertently put himself in. Pressed up against Steve’s body in a way he’d never been before.

Oh shit…

“Truth or dare,” Steve asked, breaking Bucky’s thoughts on the bulge he could feel just slightly higher than his own.

“Truth,” Bucky gritted out, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the murky water surrounding them. “It’s not like we can do any dares down here.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking directly at Bucky, and Bucky finally gave in and glanced his way, holding Steve’s gaze, and knew immediately that he shouldn't have. Steve’s eyes had taken on a greenish-blue tinge, making them pop and they softened at the edges once Bucky was in their snare. Bucky let out a long exhale. He hated when they fought - but he was still annoyed that Steve hadn't listened or been truthful.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Bucky jerked in surprise, wincing straight away, as rubbing up against Steve wasn’t going to help him remain impassive. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one I would have thought,” Steve replied curtly, and Bucky saw the slight tick in Steve’s cheek, and he caught his breath. For some reason Steve was invested in his answer, but why? Could it mean..?

“We live together Steve. You know I’m not.”

“Not even Darcy,” Steve countered.

Unable to stop it from bubbling up, Bucky started to laugh loud and heartily before realising that the motion was doing nothing to stop the friction between them, and Bucky started to worry that the knives on his person weren't the only hard thing Steve could feel pressed up against him.

When he’d composed himself, he saw that Steve had tilted his chin up proudly, and Bucky knew he’d hurt his feelings.

“Uh, that’s a negative. Darcy and I are not dating, she’s like Becca. You know - a little sister, an annoying one too, and yeah I love her, but not in the way you think. To be honest I’d like to date…”

Bucky trailed off, realising he was about to give too much away.

“You’d like to date?” Steve coaxed, eyes riveted on Bucky as he looked slightly down at him, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever really get used to the change in Steve's physique. Having to look up to his once small friend, shoulders wide enough he was a literal tank.

“Tall, blonde people,” he admitted, face immediately heating; not meaning to let that particular parcel of words out.

“Oh.” Steve replied, face slack and wondering as he stared at him, the gravity in his eyes not letting Bucky look elsewhere. So Bucky shut his eyes to escape, berating himself for being an obvious fool.

“Dare,” Steve husked.

Bucky snapped his eyes open to find Steve unblinking, attention directly on him, and there was something lurking behind his gaze, something dark and delicious, Bucky uncertain if what he saw was real or not. So he thought about his response carefully before answering.

“Okay, Stevie,” and Steve inhaled sharply through his nose at the nickname, Bucky pleased at the response. “I bet you can’t get your hands to the control panel to turn on the exterior floodlight so we can see the fishes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want to see the fishes?”

Bucky nodded slowly, having a gut feel Steve already saw through his game, considering where Steve’s hands were positioned in the first place. Between their bodies.

Steve wriggled his fingers, and a live wire burned through the very structure of Bucky’s cells, remaking them into something different, something primal as Steve continued to move and pushed his hand between them towards the panel, inadvertently pressing hard up against the front of Bucky’s pants, right over his dick in the process. A dick that was suddenly much more interested in their predicament. 

Bucky might have made an error in judgement as he slipped out a strangled gasp.

Steve’s face lit up in a grin at Bucky’s unintentional response, deliberately mimicking the same movement again.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the touch through his tac pants, wishing for no obstructions between them, and before he could lose himself completely in the sensations, Steve's hand pulled free to touch the control panel, light suddenly flooding outwards. Tufts of seaweed and darting fish fled past the glass as they continued to slowly climb for the surface. 

And before he knew what he was saying, Bucky was pressing his hips the scant inch forward into Steve's body and whispered, "I dare you to do that again."

The ragged and shaky exhale from Steve was gratifying in its sheer emotion, and the 'Buck' that tore from his throat made Bucky look up. The moment his eyes met Steve's he was gone.

"Can I?" Steve asked, and Bucky could do no more than nod as Steve's lips came crashing down on his.

It was the kiss Bucky had been waiting a lifetime for, and he couldn't believe as Steve's tongue slipped in between his lips, a low deep growl erupting unbidden in his throat, that the catalyst was a failed mission where they were stuck together angry in a cylindrical tube in the middle of the ocean.

Steve's hand forced itself back between their bodies, and Bucky moaned as Steve made the best of the small space, rubbing over and over until Bucky grew thick and hard in his pants, all while Steve kissed the very breath from his body. Bucky was stunned that Steve was an exceptional kisser, partly impressed and partly jealous at the realisation that he'd had experience, more than Bucky first thought.

"Jesus Buck, you taste so good."

"Yeah?" Bucky husked back, leaning up as far as he was able, capturing Steve's lips again. What started as chaste, soon became hungry and insistent and Bucky tried to move his hands, but there was no room for two sets between them, Steve’s all that could fit; so Bucky let Steve take control, do what he wanted. And somehow, without even speaking about it, Steve gave Bucky exactly what he needed, what he craved. And if Steve wanted, Bucky would spend his lifetime taking care of Steve in return.

"Your fucking knife," Steve husked into his cheek as he pulled away, lips wet and thoroughly kissed. It was a spaced out look Bucky wanted to see more often.

"That's not a knife," Bucky sassed back.

"Well unless you're extraordinary and have two dicks, then yes, I think the one pressing just above my knee is a knife."

Bucky tried to adjust his stance to lessen the pressure from the weapon, and at Steve's wince, he knew he'd not managed to do it.

"Well to be fair, I wasn't expecting to end up in this predicament."

"Predicament?" Steve asked as his fingers pressed against Bucky's groin again, pushing and sliding to create extra friction.

"Oh shit," Bucky breathed, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Steve's face. "Maybe I've been wanting this for over a hundred years and you know, since nothing has ever happened before, how was I to know that being trapped in an escape pod, while seething in anger would do it for you?"

Steve looked blankly at Bucky, mouth open, shock clearly written over his face. "Over a hundred years?"

Bucky realised he had no filter when Steve had a hand on his dick, and flushed at the long kept secret, now a confession, but kept going, confirming it. He was all in by that stage.

"Give or take a year."

"Buck, why the hell didn't you say anything? I've been waiting since…"

Steve trailed off and Bucky couldn't help it.

"Since..?"

"I was sixteen."

"Fuck," Bucky surged forward, kissing the breath from Steve, and Steve's hand movements became more insistant. Suddenly Bucky felt the zip of his pants loosen and he couldn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping and he wriggled his hips in anticipation. Between one breath and the next Steve had somehow, miraculously snaked his hand into Bucky's pants, and now, now, there was only a layer of thin underwear between them.

Why the hell hadn't he gone commando?

"God, Buck, you feel amazing - knew you would.” Steve said as he looked into Bucky’s eyes while stroking him, and the sheer power behind his gaze pushed all of Bucky’s buttons. “Want to get my mouth on you."

Bucky gasped, vibrating at the imagery and Steve chuckled, nipping at Bucky's lips, kissing him again and again and it hit Bucky that Steve was able to feel every single quiver and sharp intake of breath he made. He was no longer able to hide his reactions, even if his face gave nothing away - Steve was so close that all of Bucky's tells were like a neon sign emblazoned above his head. Steve had him at his mercy.

And Bucky loved it.

"I want that," Bucky whispered back, "want your mouth everywhere. Want my mouth all over you too pal, I can't wait to get you naked."

"You're too much," Steve ground out and suddenly Bucky was being kissed deeply, thoroughly and he lost all concept of time and space. Steve's fingers gripped his dick, squeezing and making short jerky motions, it wasn't the greatest angle, and Steve didn't have full motion - but it was perfect. Bucky was so turned on, his dick weeping into his underwear, and he knew that if Steve kept going, kept kissing him, touching him, he was going to come in his pants like he'd done too many times when they’d slept next to each other before the war.

"Oh fuck Steve, keep doing that."

"You like that?" Steve husked, complying when Bucky nodded his head limply, rubbing in tight circles, fingers tangling in Bucky's underwear as he tried his best to get Bucky off. And Bucky, well he wasn't easy, it usually took him a while to get in the right headspace to feel comfortable enough to let go, to let himself be free in the moment, but with Steve he knew he could be. He trusted Steve, wanted him by his side always, and he knew he'd catch Bucky, protect him as he fell. Steve would never let go again.

"Gonna make you come on my dick," Steve rasped into Bucky's mouth, making Bucky forget everything sweet and hopeful in their future to concentrate on how filthy Steve’s lust driven words were, "going to fill you up, and I'm never letting you out of my bed again Buck. You're mine - you hear that?"

"I… yes… yours," Bucky said as his knees buckled, and Steve had him, gripped him tight, pinching his dick in a way that made Bucky white out and he came apart. Bucky spurted into his pants, underwear soaking up his release and he jerked and whimpered as Steve held him through it, mouth hovering over his, whispering words of want and desire. 

"You're gorgeous Buck, the prettiest fella I ever saw."

"Jesus Steve," Bucky breathed as he came down from his orgasm, legs still twitching. "You're going all Brooklyn and sappy on me."

Steve kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth delicately, as if he hadn't just got him off in the tightests of spots, and removed his hand from Bucky's pants. "Always felt sappy with you Punk."

Bucky grinned back, sated, happy and languid - until he felt it.

"Have you got a fucking bludgeon in your pocket?" he exclaimed when Steve shifted, and awed, Bucky realised exactly what Steve was packing in his plain navy shorts that were often tangled with his black briefs in the dryer at home. Steve's cheeks tinged pink and Bucky was gone, so gone on this man who was sweet and commanding all at once.

"Oh shit Steve, am I going to have fun with you."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned back, suddenly a little shy, a little hopeful and Bucky smiled.

"For the rest of our lives if you want."

Steve sucked in a breath, "I'd like that."

"The surface is less than twenty metres away, a rescue shuttle has been dispatched and will meet you on the surface."

The automated voice fell away, and Bucky and Steve looked over each other's shoulders at the lightened water, having completely ignored the sea of fish and marine animals around them. It was stunning, there was so much life just under the surface.

And before he knew it, they were blinded by sunlight as the pod popped up on the surface, Bucky finding Steve on top of him, all of his weight pressing him down as the cylinder floated in the ocean on its side. The sheer bulk of Steve was phenomenal, a portent of things to come.

"Far out, you're heavy." Bucky commented with a grin.

"Sorry, the serum… well you know."

"No, I like it." He said as Steve kissed him again, leaning down to take Bucky's mouth under his in a passionate but short taste. "But you're still an ass for getting us into that position in the first place."

"How did you know I didn't plan it this way?"

Bucky laughed just as the lid opened and he squinted into the bright light, the quinjet hovering over them, finding himself staring directly up into Clint's grinning face.

"Looking cozy there boys, need a hand?"

"I think we have that handled," Steve replied with a smirk, staring at Bucky, and Bucky could only gaze up into the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the eyes of his best friend, his soon to be lover and hopefully so much more.

It took some maneuvering to get Steve off him without toppling them into the ocean, but soon they were inside waiting as Bruce and Clint secured the pod to take back to Tony's lab.

Bucky made his way to the front of the jet as Steve called in their failure to Fury, and greeted Natasha who was in the pilots seat, stretching his arms up and over his head, popping his muscles from having been cramped up too long. 

She looked him dead in the eye in the unnerving way only Nat could, and remarked, "your fly's undone."

Red faced, Bucky looked over at Steve who'd heard Nat and was silently laughing, telling Fury that 'no, he didn't think losing Namor was amusing', before hanging up and motioning Bucky over.

"You really are a jerk." Bucky hissed as he pulled up his fly, finally realising how wet and uncomfortable he was. He needed a shower. Preferably with company.

"But I'm your jerk though."

"Gee, aren’t I the luckiest guy in Brooklyn," Bucky snarked back at Steve's playful wink, and for the entire trip home, neither of them could keep the grins off their faces.

A day later - Natasha brought Namor in.

[brighteyes29]

Bechloe week 2021, Day 2

A/N: I don’t know why my friend Tumblr here puts such big spaces between paragraphs, I couldn’t fix it, so… Try to ignore it. This is Bechloe week day 2, pitches. I hope you like this one. Might publish it on ff.net or wattpad as a fic, but for now it is a one-shot.

Summary: Beca, Chloe and Amy are moving to L.A., so Beca could pursue her career and be away from Jesse. The three girls are roommates. Chicago doesn’t exist here ‘cause this is set after Pitch Perfect 2, not 3. So yeah. It is more interesting than it sounds, I just don’t know how to describe it without spoiling anything.

This happened right after graduation. Beca wanted to move to Los Angeles, so she can pursue with her career and be away from her ex, Jesse. The DJ just needed a change, but she didn’t want to be alone. She brought her best friends Chloe and Fat Amy with her. Like most of the other Bellas, Aubrey didn’t want to leave the city and quit her current job, which she loved, but she promised she’ll come to visit the three girls often, when she could.

“It’s such a shame that Aubrey couldn’t be here with us. I’m going to miss her.” - Chloe sighed, as the three girls were walking towards the street, where their rented apartment was supposed to be. Beca was right next to the ginger, they were holding hands despite the brunette’s complaints.

“I’m not.” - Beca replied, but both girls next to her knew she was kidding.

“Oh, come on, Bec.” - Chloe looked at her friend. “I know you will. You and Aubrey might not always be on the best terms, but-

“I know, I was kidding.” - the brunette cut her friend off. “I just had to say that. You know me.” - Beca smirked.

“We’re here!” - Fat Amy announced, when she looked up from the map she was looking at on her phone. “Are you ready for us, L.A.?” - she yelled, before entering the building. Her friends laughed and followed after her.

“Which floor should the apartment be on?” Beca said what all three girls were thinking.

“I keep in touch with the cute landlord, let me check.” - Amy opened her Messenger app and scrolled a bit, until she found the landlord’s profile. “Floor 6, lesss go!” - the blonde rushed up the stairs. Beca and Chloe had a hard time catching up with her. She must really be into that landlord of theirs.

When the girls reached the sixth floor, a handsome guy was waiting for them there. He wore a beautiful smile and he had a toothpick in his mouth. He had shoulder-length brown, curly hair and brown eyes. He saw the girls looking around a bit, so he said:

“Right here, ladies!” - he greeted them with a hand and helped them with their luggage. “You’re my new renters, yeah?” - he asked. The boy had an irresistible Australian accent.

“We surely are now…” - Amy looked at him from head to toe.

“Oh, another Australian. There aren’t too many of us here, so it’s nice to see a friendly face.” - the boy replied. “I recognized you from your profile picture. You’re Amy, yeah?”

“Yeah.” - Amy said. “Your profile picture didn’t tell me too much about you, but… I gotta say you’re hotter in person.”

“Ah, thanks.” - the boy scratched the back of his head. “The name’s Will. Will Warten.” - he added and moved to the side, so the girls could come in. “I hope you like this place. It was my home for 7 years, before I bought it from the owner.”

“Wait, you were a renter too?” - Chloe asked, intrigued, and crossed her arms.

“Sure. But I loved it in here so much that eventually I bought it.” - Will put the luggage in the living room, which was right in front of the front door. The girls sat on the couch.

“How did you decide to put it for rent again?” - Chloe asked. Beca smirked at the fact how curious her friend was and looked at her.

“Well, I thought it would be selfish if I keep this wonderful place to myself. I wanted to share it, so other people can experience what I have. I met the love of my life here.” - after Will said that, a girl joined them in the living room, she was a thin blonde with hazel eyes. She rested her hands on Will’s shoulders, who had his back on her. He was sitting on the armchair.

“What a nice surprise!” - Amy exclaimed, although both Beca and Chloe knew she was sarcastic. “How long have you two been together?”

“Um, 5 years, I think.” - Will said. “She was my roommate. We didn’t know each other at first, but we were both new in town. We fell in love soon after we got to know each other.”

“You fell in love.” - the unknown girl corrected Will. He laughed.

“Well, yeah, but… You followed soon after.” -he replied. “Everyone, this is my lovely fiancé Katelyn.” - Amy practically shot the other blonde girl with her eyes. “We live next door, so if you need anything-

“Honey, you forgot to show them around!” - Katelyn intervened again. From what the girls heard, she sounded American.

“Right.” - the brown-haired boy stood up. “This way, please.” - he pointed at the room, which was on the living room’s right. The renters followed him and looked inside the room. “This is one of the rooms, the other is next to it and looks kinda the same, but the bed is smaller. And the kitchen is at the end of the hall.”

“There is only one bed.” - Beca noticed.

“Yeah, but… It is big enough and… you guys are friends, two of you can share it, yeah?”

Beca wasn’t sure. She had to share a bed once, with Chloe, in fact, but after what happened in the tent at Aubrey’s camp, she didn’t want to repeat the situation. The brunette was silent for a moment, which Will interpreted as a problem.

“Is there some kind of a problem?” - he raised a brow.

“No.” - Beca lied. “We’ll be just fine.”

The DJ didn’t see how Chloe’s smile turned into a frown. She knew what was going on in Beca’s mind. She knew the brunette was uncomfortable around her after what she told her in the tent. But she still couldn’t explain to herself why was Beca okay with holding hands with her. She didn’t know why Beca was okay with Chloe occasionally kissing her. The redhead didn’t know many things. But she was bound to find out.

“One of you can sleep on the sofa, it’s no issue.” - Will suggested.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” - Beca forced a smile, but she wasn’t very good at it.

“One thing, though.” - the brown-haired boy added. “No sex on the sofa.”

“Sure.” - Chloe sighed and looked at Beca, the redhead’s mind was somewhere else entirely. “No problem.”

“Alright, then. Kat and I are leaving. If you need anything… well, you know.” - with that, the landlords left.

“What are we going to do?” - Beca asked with crossed arms. Chloe knew exactly what she meant.

“What do you mean?” - the redhead tried to smile. “We’ve done this before, two of us are going to share a bed. No big deal.” - Beca looked at her friend and didn’t really know what to say.

“I call dibs on the other bed!” - Fat Amy rushed to the other room and sat on the bed. “This room has better view.” - she explained. The two other girls laughed.

“So, I guess we’ll sleep on the other bed.” - Chloe moved closer to Beca, wearing a big smile on her face.

“No.” - Beca replied with a serious face. That made Chloe’s smile disappear. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“But wait, you guys are dating, why don’t you sleep together? I meant… Well, you know what I meant.” - Fat Amy said.

“For the last time, we’re not dating!” - Chloe said. It was the first time that Chloe was the one who said that. That surprised Beca.

“What? Yes, you are! You’re, like, always holding hands and kissing, you can’t tell me you’re just really good friends, that’s horseshit!” - the other two girls didn’t really know what to say to that, so they didn’t.

….

Quickly, the night came and all girls were in their rooms, except for Beca, who was in the living room, on the couch. She never foresaw how lonely she was going to be on the couch. The whole evening she spent thinking about Chloe and how she probably hurt her, even though the redhead never said anything about Beca’s choice.

The three girls had spend the whole day at the beach, but Beca left Amy and Chloe do all the talking. The DJ didn’t engage in conversations with them much. She spoke only when they asked her something. Even at dinner, Beca was silent and kept to herself. Her eyes were on the plate and she did her best to keep them that way. The DJ knew Chloe suspected something, but she never asked her what’s up, most likely because the ginger didn’t feel like talking to her friend. She was hurt and Beca got that. The brunette never really apologized for what she did. She wanted to, but she was never good at words. She didn’t really even know why she refused fo share a bed with Chloe. Hell, the brunette even liked her, to say the least. The reason she was uncomfortable with sharing a beg with Chloe was the fact that she was afraid Chloe might find out about Beca’s little crush. Last time, when the ginger basically offered Beca to experiment with her, Beca had an answer ready. But, on a bad day she might not have it and that’ll make the redhead suspicious. So Beca couldn’t have that.

‘Too many emotions today, time to relax.’ - Beca thought. To her, that meant, well, masturbating.

So she pulled out her phone and browsed photos of Chloe. When she chose one she made the blanket cover everything beside her head and started the action. It felt amazing, knowing you’re getting off to your crush. It almost felt like you’re having sex with them. Will said no sex on the couch. He didn’t say anything about masturbating.

But Beca had too much on her mind to hear Chloe’s door open. The redhead immediately realized what her friend was doing, but she didn’t know what the other girl was watching and what made her breathe with such weird frequency. It sounded kinda hot. So when Chloe grabbed the brunette’s phone, Beca was caught by surprise.

“Hey!” - the DJ immediately tried to get her phone back, but Chloe lifted it up, beyond Beca’s reach. “You know this is not fair. Just give it back!”

“Oh, I’ll give it back.” - Chloe smirked. “Right after I find out what you were watching.” - Chloe’s gaze shifted to the phone.

“No, Chloe, don’t!” - Beca begged, but the redhead wasn’t listening.

“Oh, my…” - the redhead put a hand over her mouth, but then she laughed.

“What’s so funny?” - Beca was furious right now. Not only did Chloe violate her privacy, but now she was going to tease her about it.

“All these years. You felt the same.” - Chloe gave Beca her phone back. “We’re two idiots in love who could have been together, but were too afraid to do something about it. It’s funny.”

“No, it’s not, actually-

“If you shared the bed with me, you wouldn’t masturbate to my picture and I never would’ve caught you redhanded. Guess there’s one good thing about you sleeping on the couch.” - Chloe wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck.

“I… I don’t know what to say, it is all so… weird, and I-

“Shhh….” - Chloe put her index finger on Beca’s mouth. “No need for words. And… guess now you’ll want to share the bed with me.”

“Guess so.” - Beca smirked and let Chloe’s tongue inside her mouth. It all felt so good. And, as Beca said, so… weird.

[pastelwitchling]

Kyle Valenti Appreciation Week [Day 1]

               “It’s a lot bigger than I thought it’d be,” Alex said, and Kyle smiled.

               He’d spent weeks preparing to go to this doctor’s convention in Albuquerque alone, wondering just how many old men in lab coats he would be forced to listen to discuss the importance of the work they’d done at their bigger, fancier hospitals. Then, on the morning he was getting ready to go, Alex showed up at his doorstep with a backpack and a smirk.

               “Ready to go?”

               Kyle was more than a little grateful. He’d thrown his arms around Alex’s shoulders, making him laugh. The beautiful sound was a good start to what was already beginning to look like a more bearable trip.

               So now they stood before a giant hotel that Kyle was sure was bigger than Roswell’s hospital, ready for five days of lectures and – hopefully – one too many martinis to get through it.

               “Do not leave me alone with these people,” he muttered as the automatic doors let them in, and the cold air conditioning slapped their faces.

               Alex scoffed. “If you hate coming to these things so much, why do you? Couldn’t you just take a sick day or something?”

               “I’m a doctor,” Kyle said miserably. “I’m legally not allowed to be sick.” He mustered a smile as he checked into his room.

               “Oh!” the receptionist smiled at the two of them. Kyle guessed she rarely saw anyone under the age of seventy at one of these things. “Your reservation doesn’t mention a plus-one. I can update you from the two double-sized bedroom to the single king-size, if you want.”

               Kyle glanced at Alex with wide eyes, and was glad to see he wasn’t the only one blushing. Then a ping caught Alex’s attention and he pulled out his phone.

               “Uh – we’re just friends,” Kyle stammered. “We’re not – I mean, he wouldn’t – he is way out of my league –”

               “No,” Alex cut him off, pocketing his phone and smiling politely, if not a little uncomfortably, at the receptionist. “We’re good with the two-bedroom, thanks.”

               Kyle swallowed and nodded, handing in his doctor’s badge and trying (and failing) not to look to Alex every so often, who was doing a great job of avoiding Kyle’s gaze completely. Was it really that bad for people to think they were together? He knew Alex was amazing, he knew he’d made mistakes himself when they were teenagers, but he’d hoped that they’d grown past that. That when someone asked if they were in love, they could laugh it off and take it as a complement.

               Kyle wondered if it was normal to want people to assume you were dating your best friend, then realized he was being spoken to.

               “Thirteenth floor, room 1369,” she said, still looking from Kyle to Alex and back as if too in love to know who to properly stare at.

               “Great,” Kyle said, eager to go. “Thank you.”

               They got onto the elevator with one old woman in the corner who was busying herself with pinning her badge on her lab coat.

               “Forty seconds,” he muttered to Alex who huffed a chuckle. “We’ve been here forty seconds, and I already wish I was dead. Ironic, considering we’re surrounded by doctors.”

               “Relax,” Alex said distractedly, and Kyle just realized how close he was. “You said the first lecture isn’t until tonight, right? So we’ll get to the room, and you can rest up until then.”

               Kyle swallowed. Alex’s breath was warm on the shell of his ear. Was that normal? To like Alex’s breath against his skin? To want to lean back into him to feel more of it?

               He shook his head, shutting his eyes tight. He was exhausted, and being ridiculous. He didn’t want to lean back into Alex – seriously, what was wrong with him today?

               Once they’d reached the tenth floor, the old woman stepped off, and Kyle and Alex were alone. He looked down at his shoes, feigning nonchalance. “Can you believe that receptionist thought we were together?”

               He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not that hard to believe.”

               “Still,” Kyle said, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

               Alex frowned. “Kyle, I’m not –”

               Bing!

               The doors opened to the thirteenth floor, and Kyle nudged his chin. “That’s us.”

               They stepped off and down the carpeted corridor to their room. Kyle used his pass to let them in, and Alex let out a low whistle at the sight. It was a suite, it had to be. The door opened to a large sitting room with Victorian-esque furniture splayed around and flower vases on small wooden tables. There was a large-screen TV hanging on the wall and a small kitchen on the far right, reminding them that they hadn’t, in fact, been transported to the eighteenth century.

               “Wow,” Alex murmured, checking the room on the left. “The beds are in here!” he called. “So’s the bathroom.”

               “Great,” Kyle said, “because I need a shower to wash off the convention from my skin.”

               Alex smiled, and Kyle tried not to think of the pride that bloomed in his chest at the sight of it.

               As he rummaged for a pair of underwear and pajamas from his suitcase, Alex got another ping on his phone. Kyle threw glances at him, and noticed that his smile dimmed before he’d even pulled it out of his pocket.

               Without responding, he clicked it off and tossed it on the bed.

               “Everything okay?”

               Alex hummed, mustering a smile that Kyle had learned long ago meant that he was bothered and trying not to fall into his own mess of thoughts.

               “Hey,” Alex said. “I heard about this cool burger place, just down the street. You want to clean up and go?”

               He groaned. “I’m so in love with you, please don’t ever leave me.”

               Alex laughed, his cheeks red. He plopped down on his bed, arms outstretched. His shirt had ridden up his stomach, and Kyle’s eyes lingered on the tanned patch of naked skin. Alex’s eyes were closed, and he raised his hands to fold under his head, bringing his shirt up more.

               If Kyle asked, would Alex let him touch him there? Would he let Kyle run his hand across his stomach, maybe higher up his shirt? Kyle imagined just lying down beside Alex, Alex looking at him with dark, hungry eyes. Alex reaching up to cup his jaw, caress his cheek, lean in with an open mouth and eager hands. What would Alex do, he wondered, if he just lied beside him and told him; Do whatever you want, I want you to.

               “I don’t know why you complain about these things,” Alex said, yanking Kyle out of his thoughts. “A whole week away from work with a fancy hotel room sounds pretty good after Roswell.”

               “It’s fancy this year,” Kyle said indignant, feeling a weird swell of shame in his chest. Not for the first time, Kyle was glad Alex didn’t have Isobel’s mind-reading powers. “You weren’t here when they put us in motels.”

               “We could’ve had fun in a motel.”

               “It’s a motel,” Kyle deadpanned. “There only thing you can do there for fun is . . .”

               Alex raised a brow. “Have sex?”

               Heat rose to the tips of Kyle’s ears and he cleared his throat. “Could you imagine . . . if – if we’d been there . . . together? Last year?”

               Alex said nothing for a long while, and Kyle didn’t dare look at him. Then he heard Alex sit up in bed.

               “Kyle –” he started, his voice strange, then –

               Ping!

               Alex turned silent, and Kyle looked over at him to see him focused on his phone, his finger hovering over the screen. Finally, Alex swallowed and pocketed it.

               “You okay?”

               Alex slid off the bed. “Yeah. I’ll go ask what time the meals are in this place,” he said. “You should get cleaned up.”

               He patted Kyle’s shoulder twice on his way out, and Kyle watched him leave. The second he was out the door, Kyle threw his face into his pillow and cursed himself.

               What had he said? What had he been thinking?! Alex was going to think he was hitting on him, pushing himself on his gay friend because he was bored!

               “Idiot!” he yelled, his voice muffled. “What were you thinking, what’s wrong with you?!”

               The empty hotel room didn’t respond.

                 As they sat over their burgers and fries, Kyle thought Alex was unusually quiet. Every time he tried to make him laugh, Alex would get a call or text, and his smile would instantly fall away.

               “I’m really glad you’re here,” he tried. “There’s no way I could’ve made it through this week without you.”

               “Week hasn’t started yet,” Alex reminded him, rational and calculating as always. Kyle smiled to himself.

               “Why’d you decide to come anyway?”

               Alex folded his arms on the table and sighed. He looked a lot more tired than he had that morning, but he smiled, nonetheless. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

               Kyle’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Alex –”

               Ping!

               Alex shut his away, his smile faded. “Sorry, just – just one second.” He pulled out his phone, checked the message on the screen with furrowed brows, seemed to hesitate about something, then swiped across his screen and fell silent again.

               It was when they were nursing their milkshakes, Alex mindlessly swirling a fry in his, that Kyle couldn’t take it anymore.

               “Okay,” he finally said, “what’s going on with you? I’m the one that’s supposed to be miserable on this trip, remember?”

               Alex blinked. “Nothing’s going on.”

               “Alex,” Kyle said. “It’s me.”

               Alex said nothing a moment, then another text came, and he all but flinched. Kyle frowned. There was only one person who could give Alex that kind of reaction.

               His shoulders fell. “It’s Guerin, isn’t it?” he said. “He’s the one that’s been calling nonstop.”

               Alex shut his eyes and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, and said, “I don’t know why I can’t talk to him. Not now, I –” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I could get over . . . the whole thing with Maria, but I . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

               “Why didn’t you tell me?”

               He shook his head, and managed a smile. “Because I don’t understand what’s happening either. I don’t get why it’s suddenly . . . bothering me so much. And because this trip isn’t about that. This is about you, so let’s just table Guerin until some of this starts to make more sense, okay?”

               Kyle stared. He’d spent years watching Alex put his own feelings aside because everyone else was just that much more important. He’d seen Alex ignore his own tears so he could wipe away Kyle’s, he’d seen him bleed for Michael over and over.

               “You know,” he said, “back in high school, when I first started to become someone I’m not proud of –”

               Alex frowned. “What – why are you bringing that up now?”

               “You didn’t hate me for it at first,” Kyle went on. “Even when I didn’t invite you to parties, even when I told people that I didn’t really know you, even when . . . when I called you things behind your back –”

               “Stop,” Alex shut his eyes, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

               “You have to,” Kyle insisted, leaning in and taking Alex’s hand. “Because even after all of that, you wanted to see the good in me, and only the good. And then, when I stopped talking behind your back, and said all that messed up crap to your face, then you started to get angry. You put me in my place, every time. You give people chances, Alex. That doesn’t mean you don’t know how to punish them.”

               Alex stared at his milkshake. “What’s your point?”

               “That I got mine,” he said, and shrugged a shoulder, smiling. “And Guerin’s about to get his. It’s okay, Alex. You’re okay.”

               Alex stared at him a long while, then a smile tugged at his lips. “You were wrong, you know,” he said softly. “You’re the one that’s out of my league.”

               Kyle blinked, and realized he’d leaned in impossibly close. He cleared his throat, sitting back, his face inexplicably warm.

               “Manes,” he murmured, shaking his head. “This’ll be one hell of a week.”

               As he watched Alex bite his lower lip to keep his smile from widening, his face a cute shade of pink, he realized this trip might not be as bad as he’d thought.

[closer-stars]

Gut Feeling (4)

Member: San Genre: Angst???? Just a lot of discomfort and tension tbh Word Count: 12k (what the actual--) Requested: Yes Content: Like what I said, lots of discomfort in this. Anyways yay tension. Food mention bec people need to eat. Idol life is messy as heck. :flashes a peace sign through the stress: Also roughly around last few weeks of inception going thanxx promotions lmao  Note: One month later, Part 4 is here. Apologies for the late delivery, my mental health really took a dive with everything happening lately. Things are kind of looking up but not entirely. Also this idea really marinated in my head that’s why it’s so long... So much you could do with this prompt tbh. TY to @hwaberrykiwi @yeocult @yeochikin and @barsformars for dealing with out of the blue messages regarding this fic when I was writing-- disregarding the weeks long silence from me.... hahah ily i’ll link the previous parts after a day just so this could appear in the tags lol

Part 3

The past few days have been quiet. Nothing came up between the two of you since that night. Nothing came up but things have quieted down. You can only suppose that it’s because of how exhausting it has been. At least that’s what you think when you try to rationalize it to the strained schedules getting to him now. That’s the only way you’ve been able to keep yourself together in front of everyone, by rationalizing everything that feels off with exhaustion. 

It works to a degree. The makeup covers up the lack of sleep beneath their eyes but it can’t add to the needed sparkle in their eyes. That’s where the ring lights come in. Everything physical can be fixed with makeup and lighting, that’s what the industry does. But emotional? That’s another thing altogether. 

Things were technically smooth sailing despite the chaos. You still go home late, just not for the usual reasons. You still go home late when the members stay late in the studio but that isn’t often at this point. They’re still human, they need rest. On the other hand, Hongjoong still goes to the studio though not to the point where Seonghwa has to pester him to go home. You bring Hongjoong home often now. During this leg of promotions, it’s Yoon who brings them to the first half of their schedules, Bae brings them to the second half-- it’s not easy waking up at 4am just to bring eight boys to their schedules. You’re in charge when it comes to the late night schedules. At least this way, you don’t have to talk to them since they’re too worn from the day’s activities. 

Hongjoong sits on the passenger seat next to you, busy eating the dinner you had bought for him. The ride home is quiet, just him munching on his much needed meal and the ice cubes in your respective drinks. 

“Manager-nim?” He speaks up carefully. 

You hum in response, still not tearing your eyes away from the road. 

“Has San been okay?” 

That catches you off guard for a moment. “As far as I know, yes? Did something happen?” Something that didn’t revolve around _that_. 

He sips on his coffee for a moment, mulling over your words. “He’s just been in his head more often nowadays, I thought he might have talked to you about what’s on his mind.” He reasons softly against the lid of his cup. Now he’s not the type to force his members to talk to him about their issues, they do have a day where they gather and talk about concerns from the past week and the upcoming week. Despite that, there are some worries that can’t wait for the weekly session. 

You hum in thought. That’s not good. “He hasn’t told me anything.” You return. How can he? He’s often at the farthest end of the car, slumped over catching up on rest. “Is there something I need to be aware of, Hongjoong?” 

Your words cause him to laugh thoughtfully. “You’d think because I’m the leader, I’d know what’s on their minds…” He starts. “I don’t know what’s on his mind, much less know what could have happened. If he does tell you something that I might need to know...” He trails off, but you understand where he’s trying to get. 

“I know.” You return gently. You had your doubts that he’d talk about it, especially to you. “Don’t push yourself too hard on it regardless. Though, I do think he talks to Seonghwa or Wooyoung about these kinds of stuff doesn’t he?”

“That’s true.” You can tell that the air in the car has eased a little and with that the rest of the drive has turned quiet. 

Upon arriving home, Hongjoong slides off his seat, rearranging his things. Considering the two of you lived in the same building, it was still the two of you on the way up. Perhaps San learned this habit from his hyungs? 

Now that you think of it, you wonder how San has been. You know how tired he is when there’s no cameras around but still he gives so much for the team.

“Manager-nim?” He says carefully while the two of you wait for the elevator to bring you to your designated floors. You respond with a soft hum. “If the boys start to act up, please tell me. I know you’re the manager but sometimes they get too much to handle, I can keep them in line too.” His words cause the corner of your lips to quirk upwards, touched by his worry. 

“It’s okay, Hongjoong. I can still handle you boys.” You tease lightly as you shake off his concern lightly. When the elevator alerts the two of you that you had arrived at his floor, that’s when he realizes that you didn’t press your floor number.

“Hey--!” It’s moments like this that remind you that they’re the youngest in their families. At his complaint, you shoo him off.

“Come on, Hongjoong. You need your rest more than I do.” You wave him off, chuckling at his shocked expression. Maybe being someone who works behind the scenes had its perks even outside the work environment. He pouts at you, unable to argue and he bids you good night, thanking you for the safe trip. 

--------

He arrives at the dorm, which was mostly peaceful save for the frantic clicking of the mouse and keyboard tapping. At least there wasn’t much yelling but he didn’t need to peek into their rooms to know that the guys were playing an intense League match. When he gets to his room, he’s greeted by Seonghwa doing his usual home training. At least he had a shirt on this time. 

“I thought today was your rest day.” He said as he hangs his bag on the corner of his bed. 

The other, still in the middle of a plank, manages to rasp out. “Habits. Hold on.” 

Hongjoong lets him finish his set as he changes into something more fitting for sleep. From the way his hair sticks to his skin, Hongjoong could only guess that this was probably his last set for the night. “Go shower first stinky. We can talk after.” 

Seonghwa looks at his roommate in a mix of fake insult and annoyance. “Say that to me after you do your laundry.” 

He looks at his laundry that seems to agree with Seonghwa. He carries the basket to their washing machine. “Now go stinky.” He repeats much to the other’s dismay, already loading it into the machine. 

After Seonghwa has done his usual lengthy shower-- seriously what does he even do? The two fill the other on how the past few hours went. Particularly, the talks with San and you. 

Seonghwa starts it as he dries his hair with his towel. “San didn’t really say much. He was pretty vague about it, something about feelings and something about wanting a re-do.” It’s usually like that at the start for San, he noticed. Always at a loss for words until he lets himself be alone. Regardless, if there’s something he and Hongjoong have, it’s the sixth sense when it comes to the members. 

The leader hums in response. It was a bit of an expected move from the younger one to keep to himself, he does see a little of himself in that kid. He wasn’t that successful in his conversation with you either. “Yeah, they didn’t really say anything with me either.” He does recount to the best of his memory the entire conversation. 

The two of them sit in silence, both concerned over how this could affect the group. Seonghwa then sits up, eyes shining with alarm. “I think he confessed to them.” 

Hongjoong stares at him, dumbfounded by how he reached that conclusion until he remembers how the members often tease him when you’re not around-- he didn’t really join in on it. How he seems to show off a little more whenever you’re around. It’s to the point he even waits for you after you park the car, none of them even do that. He buries his face in his hands, he knows how San takes rejection so harshly. It’s one of the reasons that propelled that boy to dance like his life depended on it. “And I’m guessing, they didn’t accept the confession.” 

The words make the oldest wince. “Choi San….” Seonghwa groans, dropping his body onto his bed. The two of them realize that there’s a situation on hand and they’re not really sure if the other boys know. Some of them could, some of them might not. “We should probably ask Yunho or Wooyoung if he has said anything in the near future.” 

Hongjoong nods at the suggestion, suddenly too exhausted to say anything else. “Let’s just get some sleep for now. We still have one more leg of Inception promotions this coming week.” 

Seonghwa switches the lights off, knowing full well that once Hongjoong’s in bed, there’s no getting him out of it unless it’s the next day. “Sleep well stinky.” 

“Whatever.” 

-------- The Inception promotions end without a hitch… well as smoothly as it can. Considering that there’s now a quiet lull in between the promotions, the boys have been using the time to clean the choreography and eat. It’s not ATEEZ if there’s no food. You only entered the studio towards the end of their practice, slipping quietly to sit next to their stylist and Manager Bae as they fixed the last changes for their performances. The rest of the members are walking around the studio, breathing heavily after what was probably their nth run of their next promotions.

“You’re bringing them home?” You ask him as the stylists show you the plans for their clothes. You’ve seen some of these fits during the photoshoots and music video shoots but some of these were a first. You were sure the boys would look good in these. You take note of the changes, taking a few photos of the sets to transfer to your laptop.

He hums in affirmation, too busy keeping note of the changes they discussed while you were gone. You notice San’s the only one on the floor, everyone else already packing up their things. 

“Are you going to stay late tonight?” You ask him, as he’s still on the floor, too exhausted to pull himself up. 

“Probably not, I promised Yunho I’d play a few matches of League with him.” Silence falls on the two of you, either one unsure of how to continue the conversation, much less on how to end it. Why did you expect him to stay? For more, why did that make you feel a little heavy? 

“Ah.” It was the only thing you could think of at that moment. 

Your reply causes a pit in his stomach to sink. Without thinking, he returns the question for the sake of conversation, even though there was no point in it. He doesn’t know why he still wants to talk to you, knowing that talking to you only puts more strain to him. “Are you?”

At his question, you nod. A flash of confusion on your eyes that are immediately pushed aside for the sake of professionalism. “Yeah, I have to assist in the deals with the externals team. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You don’t give him another word, opting to end the conversation with a polite bow before making your way to the office. It wasn’t the whole truth, nor was it a whole lie. Regardless, you tear your eyes away from him.

Silence trails behind you and keeps San company for the next few moments. He winces to himself, not liking how things are going between the two of you. He pulls himself up when Yunho calls for him. 

On the way out, you’re greeted by Seonghwa’s figure waiting for the rest of the boys. “Oh, hello Seonghwa.” You say out of surprise. “Not grabbing something to drink from 7/11?” 

His eyebrows raise, not expecting someone to greet him at this time of the night. “Manager-nim!” He greets you with a tired smile. “Are you going home soon?” He asks, standing a little straighter this time. “And, I think we have enough drinks at home…” he mumbles though it doesn’t sound that convincing to you. 

His question makes you smile a bit, but you shake your head at his question. “Unfortunately no. I have to do additional work to do with the externals.” 

His eyes widen at your words. “Did we get more offers?” 

His words make you mull over your thoughts. You know of one offer that’s already confirmed but you doubt they’ve been informed. “Let’s just say, you’re really staying true to the whole Back to Zero hint you’ve pulled during your Crescent Party.” You say with a chuckle. 

He doesn’t get enough time to understand the hint you give him-- a taste of their own medicine towards ATINYs when they ask for hints. Wooyoung’s already calling him annoying nicknames to get him moving and you chuckle at the pained expression on his features. “Go home, Seonghwa. Don’t want Wooyoung to annoy you more. You’ll know this once the deals are finalized.” You bid him goodbye, sparing the boys a wave before retreating to your office. 

--------

It’s already the middle of the second leg of promotions and you’re already at your last leg of energy. You probably need around two to three days to recover properly, at this rate. For now, you try to continue forward, the finish line is oh so near. You slip into the studio, not surprised to see the lights still on, but surprised to still hear ATEEZ at this hour. It’s a familiar sight in front of you: eight tired boys on the floor or slumped against the wall. Those with enough energy throw any apprehension out the window and change their tops in the studio. 

“Are you staying late in the studio tonight?” You ask San as you check the time. The boys are already getting ready to head home, San on the other hand hasn’t moved an inch. He’s in his thoughts as he stares at his bag. Your question, though, brings him out of his head and he picks up himself up. It was a question out of habit, months of having done it over and over, it was still a challenge to curb such actions. 

“Yeah. I need to clean my levels.” It only made sense that you’d bring home since you practically live under the same roof. Were you expecting him to say otherwise? Slightly. He doesn’t look at you but he makes his way to the computer again. 

“San! You’re still staying?!” Yunho exclaims, he’s the last out the door to which San acts as if it was a normal thing. 

He laughs at the shock on his member’s face. “Relax, I didn’t like my levels in the last run so I’m doing it again. Go ahead though, Manager-nim’s bringing me home.” 

“Heyy, we all know that means you’re spending another three hours.” The taller returns with a whine. 

You watch the two banter, a small hint of amusement quirking at your lips but you immediately squash that. You tip your head to quietly bring the attention back to what’s at hand. “Just tell me when you’re done, San. I’ll be at the office.” Without missing a beat, you excuse yourself out of the studio. Two pairs of eyes following your retreating figure until you disappear from their sight.

Once you leave, Yunho looks back at the male with a raised brow. “San.” 

The other makes a disgruntled sound at the tone of his voice. He knows what that means but he just can’t get himself to talk to you still. The taller male leaves him be and his shoulders fall once he’s left alone. No matter how many times he runs the choreography does he find himself satisfied with his performance. He can’t put his 100% into this when a part of him still lingers in thoughts of you. The song still plays on loop but he stops dancing for a moment, trying to bring himself into slowly going through each count to focus on what needs to be addressed. It goes well for the most part but in moments where he needs to catch his breath, to ease his parched throat, his mind stumbles to you. He looks at the clock on the computer screen. 

At least he didn’t hit the three hour mark that Yunho betted on. 

He changes into something less uncomfortable than a sweaty shirt before stepping out of the now dark studio in search of you. He sees the office not too far from where he is; he takes a deep breath, one that he associates with exhaustion rather than apprehension as he walks to where you said you’d be. 

He peeks into the office, seeing you with your fingers threaded to your hair as you write and pause for a moment to shift to your laptop. He stays there for a moment, watching you work in your own zone. He watches you work from time to time, but rarely does he see you scowl at your work. The way your eyebrows furrow at what’s in front of you makes him ponder over what could be giving you a hard time. Maybe he should’ve asked you about yourself as well instead of having your interactions be centered around him. You’ve had a few talks with him though mostly centered around his experience and you occasionally have to reign him in when he’s too caught in his emotions. He wonders if this is why you fell for Seonghwa. He shakes his head to shoo these thoughts before he starts looking like a stalker outside the office, so he knocks twice to get your attention. “Hey,” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Are you ready?” He asks softly, standing awkwardly by the door once you look at him. 

You look at the clock. It hasn’t been three hours, well it’s nearly three hours but not quite. “You finished early. Give me ten minutes.” You note as you pack all your things. 

He stays in his spot, eyes roaming the room, seeing small things that differentiate your space from the others. You had small post-its color coded over some sheets of paper that were unreadable from his spot, typical work essentials along with a small corgi plush the size of his palm resting next to a few pens. The small thing makes him smile for a moment, once he sees that you’re ready to get moving, it disappears. He lets you lead the way to the car, popping his earphones in for the long ride home.

It’s quiet for the entire ride home, except for the radio playing whatever the public has been into. You don’t look over at San to know that he has his earphones in, neither of you try to start a conversation. Maybe it was better that way anyways. 

Once you parked the car, you shake his shoulder gently to wake him up. “We’re here.” He wakes up almost immediately unlike the past times where he makes it near impossible to wake him up. He raises his head, slightly disoriented with the scattered lights in the parking lot, he looks to the driver’s seat and you’re already out of the car. He hops out of the car, running his hand through his hair as he tries to wake himself up. The car beeps and you pull at the door to make sure it’s locked. Once satisfied, you walk around and find him already by the elevator. This surprises you but at the same time were you expecting anything else? 

You put on your earphones as well, as you wait for the elevator to arrive. As much as he wants to get on the elevator first, he wasn’t going to let you be on your own at this hour. The doors slide open and the two of you get on, staying on two opposite ends. Your finger presses his floor, out of habit, then you quickly follow it with your floor number. The cool metal shows a hazy image of your reflection, nonetheless you take the chance to look at yourself. Even against this material, your exhaustion is clear. Your eyes linger to the blurry image of San through the walls and his slumped figure as he looks at his phone. Thoughts of how to mend the relationship bubble in your consciousness only to be popped by the elevator arriving at your floor. “Good night.” You say, out of respect. 

“Good night.” He returns under his breath, and he waits for the doors to close behind you before he lets out the breath he’s been holding. Now that it’s just him, he lets out a long frustrated groan. Why couldn’t he get himself to talk to you? To clear things out? He never gave you the chance to explain yourself or himself. He just took your lack of answer as a no and admitted defeat. Would trying to get you and Seonghwa together mend his damn heart? He’s also selfish. He wants you. He doesn’t want to lose to his hyung but Seonghwa is also his hyung. He’s someone he respects and loves like an actual brother. Another turmoil in his head as he watches the number on the screen reach his floor. 

He arrives at his room, greeted by the sight of Yunho playing League without him. “Damn, look at you. You don’t need me to hard carry you through a match.” San muses as he tosses his bag somewhere in the room. He doesn’t know if Yunho even heard him over the constant comments that the game makes over each kill. Regardless, he needs a shower. 

---------

He comes back from his shower and Yunho’s headset rests on his shoulders, scrolling through the internet mindlessly. “Did you get to talk to them?” Yunho asks, his eyes haven’t left the screen-- probably watching someone’s gameplay. 

San lets out a disgruntled sound as he dries his hair. “I didn’t get to, they had their earphones on.” Even to him, this explanation sounds weak. 

Yunho pauses the video then looks at the male, clearly not buying his words. “San.” 

“I’m serious.” San interjects, his face crumpling in discomfort. “Even in the hours of my practice, they were in the office the entire time.” 

“You know, if you just said you weren’t ready to talk to them, that works too.” Leave it to Yunho to cut to the chase. 

His bottom lip juts out at such a strong statement from his peer. “T-that’s one reason too…” He mumbles as he climbs onto his bed, defeated by how quick it was for Yunho to see through him. 

The other male stays on his seat, leaning against the backrest as he watches the other. “There’s no rush, honestly but bro, you really need to talk to them soon. Your own good is for the good of the group too.” 

His words make the younger look at him weirdly. He’s aware of how his heart is on his sleeve since birth but his words make him wonder just how evident his heart is. The look on his face makes Yunho laugh softly, as much as San does his best to look after everyone, Yunho still had the upper hand of being an actual older brother. It felt like he was talking to his younger brother with how confused San was. “It was kind of obvious that you couldn’t put yourself into the practice earlier San. None of us just commented on it because we know you.” 

San falls onto his pillow, half his face covered by the soft material as he shoots rainclouds at the male who is clearly unaffected by his attitude. How can he? Yunho’s right. It’s obvious when he isn’t putting his heart into it. It’s obvious when he’s got something in his mind while he practices or performs. He didn’t want to affect the boys with his personal issues. While he isn’t ready to talk to you, he needs to find a way to separate his personal life with his work life.

His roommate looks at the bothered male with a sympathetic smile. “Let’s figure this out some other time, it’s 3AM we need sleep.” He shuts off his monitor, already making his way to the lights. In a few days time, their THANXX promotions would start. San’s going to need to separate his emotions soon. Maybe those acting classes would actually help. 

--------

It’s D-2 before THANXX promotions and the staff had made sure the boys were eating right. You were grateful for the existence of yogurt and fruits, otherwise having the boys eat their vegetables would be a headache. They’ve been eating enough while making sure to leave room for their rehearsals. Today’s the last day of practicing in their outfits for the future stages. Thankfully, the clothes for the first stage were already ready. 

You and the rest of the staff had marked the studio with colored tape, while those who were in charge of production already rehearsed how the cameras would move. Truth be told, you haven’t kept up with the news but with how the production team was moving, you could only assume that the cases were rising then dropping. The boys do one run in their stage outfits with little to no issues-- save for San having to pin his pants. Once that was all over, the boys talked with the stylists for any minor changes and reviews for this set while you and the others removed the tape from the flooring. 

The same thing happens for the rest of the night: managers eating ahead, switching around to keep an eye on their rehearsals, the boys eating later on then back dancing and singing. Perfectionists but it is expected, this song was more in their comfort zone after all. You’re the last in the office again, Manager Bae bringing them home this time. Brand deals were your worst enemy but they were a high risk, high reward if done right. 

You peek into the studio, seeing the boys already packing up. Manager Bae is off to the side stretching his back after hours of moving around. You toss the keys to him to which he catches with grace, much to the group’s entertainment. 

San catches your eye and you glance over at him. Something in you hardens but you try to keep it subtle. “Heading home early?” 

He’s caught off guard by the question. “Y-yeah, I’m heading home with them tonight. You don’t have to wait for me.” He answers after recovering his composure. He shifts his face to your direction but you don’t meet his eyes. Silence falls over the two of you for a moment. With that, you nod at his words. 

“Is that so? Then, get lots of rest tonight. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” With that, you tip your head to bid him goodbye, shuffling away from him and into your office. You don’t give him time to ask if you were going home as well.

His eyes follow your figure as you quickly leave the room and something in him causes him to let out a sigh. He doesn’t have the heart to stop you, wanting nothing but to relieve his stress with a match or two against Yunho. Hell, even just sleeping doesn’t sound like a bad idea. He lets out another sigh, shoulders dropping lower than usual before he steps out of the studio as well, greeted by the sight of his fellow members, bustling about by the elevator. 

Sometimes being quick on your feet had its perks, for example, you slipped away from the boys before they could see you scurry away to your office. Once you had arrived, you let out the breath you’ve been holding in since you left the studio. Now that you don’t wait for San in the studio anymore, your schedule has gotten a lot freer than expected. While this should be a good thing, your body isn’t used to it and ends up restless. You sink into your chair, looking through your to-do list. You should be accustomed to rapid changes, but this was a change you had trouble getting used to. For months, you did your work in the studio, while San practiced his dancing and singing. It was to the point where you gave up using earphones to focus and let San perfect his technique until it became white noise to your ears. Now, the silence was deafening. Earphones are popped into your ears, putting your music on shuffle. 

[ Manager Bae to Manager Chat ] Bringing the kids home today! You guys want anything on the way back? 

You bring your phone up to your eyes, a frown on your lips as you think of what to reply. 

[ You to Manager Chat ] Sweet Cream Cold Brew and chicken sandwich please? I’m staying in the office for overtime lol

[ Manager Bae to Manager Chat ] Call. 

You look at the time. It’s 9PM. He won’t be back until 10 or 11 depending on the rush. Hell, you realized that it’s been a while since you managed to catch a breather in the office. You could barely keep your focus so you end up looking through your phone, doing the routine clean up for the sake of your phone memory. 

For the sake of your sanity, for once, you don’t push yourself to work at least until your (late) dinner comes in. You decide to call your best friend, in need of an ear that would listen because shit your thoughts are just a jumbled mess now. Her phone rings on and on, until you reach the familiar beep of a call untouched. You try again but you receive the same flat note. You tap the red icon on your phone and opt to send them a message. 

[ You to Jiwoo ] Need to talk to you about some personal stuff. Nothing life threatening, just super stressed. 

You put your phone away and stare at your emails and paperwork. If you can’t write something up, at least you can organize something right? It’s mindless work until Manager Yoon comes back. Jiwoo replies after a while. 

[ Jiwoo to You ] Good that you said it’s not life threatening. I just finished watching a zombie movie. I’m free Sunday night/Monday.

Her life choices barely faze you at this point. 

[ You to Jiwoo ] Smart choice to watch a zombie movie at night. I’ll be free by like… past midnight?

[ Jiwoo to You ] I’ll buy the soju. Bring mixers and some food. 

You break into a fit of giggles at her words. A serious heart-to-heart talk was always capped off with a chill drinking session at her place. 

You continue to organize your files, moving some of the files to a hard drive, especially now that some of these files were for the duration of Inception promotion. As you go through your files, you’re greeted by various selfies from the boys, some expected from twenty something boys, some looking very much boyfriend-dol of them. Most of them coming from Seonghwa and San, though San beating the older by a few more. You remember how the conversations always went; San would always ask which one was better, you always doubted the legitimacy of your decisions as usually the social media staff were in charge of that. He would pester you still for which one was better until you chose something. Now that you look at them with the current situation in hand, things slowly made sense. 

A heavy sigh slips through your tired lips as you watch the bar fill up, waiting for all these documents and photos to be in your hard drive. You know some of these photos were going to be needed for their birthday videos and other special events so it was best to not delete anything. Somehow your need to organize everything overpowers the small part in you that wants to process and understand everything that happened between you and San. 

“I’m back!” Manager Bae declares much to your surprise. You jolt up in your seat, surprised by his sudden presence and you look at the time. 10:15PM. 

“No traffic?” You ask and your eyes trail to the food in his hand. He catches how your eyes look at the bag of food instead of at him to which he laughs, like manager, like idol after all. The older male places your food on your table before he settles down by his space. 

“Surprisingly none,” he starts, while you rummage through the bag for your sandwich first. “The boys fell asleep fast in the car too so things went smoother than expected.” 

“They’ve been constantly on the move since September, haven’t they? It’s bound to catch up to them.” You say before taking a bite. With your free hand, you skim through your documents and emails. “After this round of promotions, they have a show with Kakao plus acting offers already. It’s almost still full speed ahead for them, still. You told the boys of the acting offers already didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, Yunho and Jongho are the most excited for it. Expected since they’re the most vocal about wanting to venture into acting.” You could already picture the looks on their face when their wish came true and it brings a small smile to your face. It’s moments like that that makes you think your work is worth it. A few minutes pass as you get halfway through your sandwich and Manager Bae stands up again, ready to call it a day. “Are you still working overtime?” He asks as he glances at the time. 

You take a sip of your coffee, feeling a little awake from the gradual caffeine fix. “Yeah, probably just two hours more. I just want to finish all of these deals and stuff.” He looks at you with a hint of concern but nods. You were a stubborn one, not wanting to stop when the finish line is so close. 

“Don’t forget you got the car keys for tomorrow’s schedule.” 

That makes you pause to do the math of your travel time plus sleep. You have enough time if you keep to your schedule. With that set, you flash him a reassuring grin. “Duly noted with thanks. Get some sleep already, you’ve been on your feet since early morning.” You say as you wave him goodbye. He laughs at your choice of words but lets it be. With that, you’re alone again. Alone with your thoughts and your work. 

Maybe silence wasn’t the best way to deal with this. 

---------

[ You to Jiwoo ] Fuck it. I’m gonna send you voice notes of everything that has happened. Cause I swear if I don’t get this out of my system, I might just lose it. 

You look at the text you composed for a few moments, you’re in bed now, drying your still damp hair. You remove everything and write everything down in your notes app instead. There were things that were better mulled about first instead of being spoken about recklessly. The blank message box taunts you to say something but you don’t. Instead, you put your phone away and ready yourself for sleep. 

---------

You wake up to your phone buzzing reminding you of the new day. The last you remember of your hazy dream was San. [dream dialogue?] You’re not sure if that was a good dream or not, details fade before you could make more sense of what it was. Regardless, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth about today. 

[ You to ATEEZ ] I’ll wait for you boys at the parking lot. Be there by an hour latest. 

[ Seonghwa to ATEEZ ] frodo_thumbs_up

With his reply, you trust that the rest of them would know of your order. You finally get out of bed, getting ready to start what could be another long day. Once you look presentable, you make sure you have everything you need for the day. As you make your way to the parking lot, you look through your messages, and you feel a little better knowing that all your drafted proposals have been approved and are just waiting for the green light from the partners. This also means you have to give the boys the rundown soon. You sent a message to the manager chat of the updates. 

The doors open and one by one the members enter, causing the van to roar to life-- in this case, not the engine. The sudden influx of noise startles you, nearly dropping your phone in the process. 

“Manager-nim!” whines Wooyoung, who was seated right behind your seat. “Why don’t you pick us up from the dorm anymore?” 

You reach behind you to pat his head, or well whatever you can pat more of. “Wooyoung, you boys are already adults..” You reason lightly, trying to keep your tone light. Unfortunately, your head is anything but light. How exactly do you make sense of a dream where someone who has feelings for you appears in them? Especially a talent. You’ve heard stories, rare that they ended on a good note too. 

Those words bring some sort of feeling in San. A bitterness that not even his performance insecurities could bring. He had his earphones in, not wanting to talk to anyone this early. 

‘San’s not a morning person for the most part, just let him warm up on his own.’ 

Manager Hwang’s voice rings in your head and it’s the only thing that’s trying to reason with your uneasiness. Once you’ve appeased Wooyoung, you count the boys to make sure they’re all accounted for before driving them to the company. 

The car mellows down into quiet murmurs between those who were awake and in between awake and slumber. It felt like everything was back to normal for the most part. 

Things go by like normal, stylists who you haven’t seen due to schedule changes have decided to gush to you over the latest gossip that you missed out on. At least they were nice enough to gossip with you after styling the boys, otherwise that would’ve been a disaster. 

“Yes, so they disregarded their contract and are dating a fan.” The tone gives you an odd impression. 

“You make it sound like this isn’t the first time he’s done it.” You note, frowning at such idea entering your mind. It’s the look on the stylist’s face that tells you you’re correct. 

He sighs. “I’ve worked with them for a number of years, their contract states they’re not supposed to date for at least two years after debut. This boy doesn’t even cover it up while doing his work. I’m not one to shame an idol for dating, I’m worried for those who have to cover up his trail and his members if he gets caught.” 

Your blood runs cold at that. It sounds all too familiar for you. But you don’t show signs of your fear to the stylist, knowing better than to talk about issues of the heart with that at a time like this. That said, you opt to just frown and sigh at such actions. It’s hypocritical of you but you couldn’t get yourself to act any other way. “I hope he gets his act together.” You mumble. 

“Who gets his act together?” 

Everyone jumps at the sudden voice and heads turn to the direction. You stand up immediately after calming your racing heart. “Wooyoung! Don’t scare us like that!” While your tone carries no hint of malice or disappointment, it does carry a tone of someone who is used to his antics. 

Your nagging causes him to snicker. “Sorry for scaring you.” He starts, while giving the other staff members an apologetic bow. “Who were you talking about?” Leave it Wooyoung to sniff out the sauce. 

At his question, you shake your head, flicking his forehead in the process. “Nothing that concerns you, Wooyoung. You’re done with your hair and make up?” You shift the topic to something else, much to the relief of the staff and your heart. 

“Yes~” God, it’s so difficult to stay mad at this boy. You watch him shuffle away to change into his performance clothes then shift your attention to the rest of the boys who were just catching up on a few minutes of sleep while waiting for their call time. 

Today’s stage for them was going to be pre-recorded as they had another guesting at the time the music show will air. You wake up those who were still asleep when they had thirty minutes before their call time. “Guys, get ready. You’re going to be called to perform soon.” You say softly, not wanting to scare them. This somehow gets them on their feet quicker than expected, you look around then you spot the camera pointed at their direction. As a reflex, you immediately cover your face and you’re thankful that San managed to step in front of you, now joking about with Wooyoung as they warm up. You take the chance to slip away from the camera and you watch from a distance as they get ready, right on time for one of the production staff to usher them to the stage as they hand them their microphones. 

Once they bid their goodbye to the camera and make their way off to the sides of the stage, a part of you falls into unease. Seasoned eyes look around the room, trying to spot for anything that the boys may have forgotten. ‘Mingi didn’t forget his gloves, same goes for Wooyoung. Did Seonghwa not wear his choker…?’ You ask yourself questions, all of which were answered as you look around the room and the tables. A part of you wants to assume this is just your brain drifting to that weird dream you had and for once, you hope that this logical side of you is right. 

The monitor in the room has you watching how the boys do their rehearsals, two of which were to get used to the stage difference, the last being for the camera work. Once all that was done, alongside the makeup retouches, they were ready for the final run. It’s not a surprise that the last run was better than the rest, you checked your phone, it would take them roughly ten minutes to get back to the room. 

It’s been a while since they finished and you excuse yourself from the mindless chatter the other staff had busied themselves with. “Get ready to pack up already.” Your voice gentle but still holding authority as you knew of their schedules. Where were the boys? You step out of the room looking for them. It took a few moments until you did find them but they made no move of leaving their spot. Something in you forces you forward and you see one of the production staff members throwing their anger on them. 

“Excuse me, did something happen?” Truth be told, you hate confrontations but this is part of your work. If this argument is stretched any longer, you fear that the boys would be late to their next schedule. 

The staff member’s voice booms, bouncing off the walls, as he decides to lecture you on how to make artists be aware of their own mishaps with logistical matters. While he didn’t call you names, it was evident that his anger was starting to become misdirected. It’s a miracle how you managed to hold your ground amidst the tirade despite the storm brewing behind your eyes. So you smile, bright and easy against the man. “Yes, while I would like us to deal with this now, I have to bring these boys to their next schedule--” He cuts you off with another rant, and your features stiffen. As you were about to open your mouth, you feel someone’s arms block you. A few blinks try to get you back to reality and you look at the arm in between you and the staff. 

Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong and San are trying to appease the staff member. Your mind goes into static, you tell the others to go back to the room to pack everything up. “Meet you by the car. Your next schedule is an hour away. Let’s hope there’s no traffic.” You say and Yunho manages to reign the rest in to do as told. Afterwards, you shift your attention back to the staff and put the two boys behind you. “I’ll cut to the chase. Here’s my contact details.” You bring out your calling card and place it in his hands. “We can arrange damage fees by tonight. I apologize for the hasty end to this discussion but the boys still have promised schedules to fulfill.” You bow out of respect and apology and leave the scene. The three following you close behind. 

You know the three are talking, over what? You aren’t sure. Your mind’s on auto pilot, overwhelmed with everything. The stress has been at an all time high for you but you always push it down, focusing on what’s in front of you. Yet, the staff’s outburst is probably the last thing that’s going to break you. A subtle pinch to your arm and you bring yourself back to reality. You check their dressing room and everyone’s already gone except for the boys who were just about to open the door. “Good, let’s go.” 

---------

The trip to their radio guesting was bustling with confusion towards the angry staff as they try retrace their steps towards that event. You on the other hand, are just grateful for the lack of traffic, you’ll get to the next schedule with a few minutes to spare. Nothing from their discussion enters your ears, too focused into making sure that everyone gets to their destination in one piece. You can deal with your emotions and reactions when the day ends. 

On the other hand, San’s been brooding about what has happened. Seonghwa and Hongjoong ask the members about the broken mic that fortunately lasted until the end of their performance. He didn’t like how things played out there. A lot of things are brewing in his mind, all of which were related to you and Seonghwa. His shortcomings of not responding immediately also being an additional burden. The staff’s outburst stunned everyone and it was Seonghwa who managed to respond first by stepping in between the two of you. As expected of the eldest. Hongjoong and him only snapped out of it after he moved. No wonder, you preferred his hyung.  Something was swirling in his pit and it wasn’t anything good.

Before San could make sense of these conflicting emotions, the car smoothly parks and the doors slide open. “We’re here.” You state and you hop off the car. He blinks out of his thoughts and follows the rest of the boys. They’re greeted by a warmer group of staff who give them a rundown of what’s to happen for this guesting. They’re greeted by lunch sets with their names on it and that was enough to elicit excited chatter from them. When the staff informs them that they’re eating as well in front of the camera as they talk about their album, it gets only louder from there. Even it gets him flashing a genuine smile, they drop their bags off in the room before being ushered to where teh show will be aired. 

You followed the boys and were greeted the same way they were greeted. You talk with some of the staff on the way inside, they hand you your lunch set and you stare at it dumbfounded. “I don’t remember this being part of the fee..” You mumble. The staff catches your words and she beams at you.

“It’s on us! We know you guys have been on your feet for so long, so we figured it would be good to give you guys something to eat.” She explains and it’s another whiplash of emotions in you. Maybe you do need a day off soon. You look at the woman in stunned silence for a moment before bowing out of gratitude. 

As the boys do their thing in front of the cameras, you stay in the room, slowly eating the meal you were gifted with. Your confusing dream must have been a warning of what this day would be. With this hour to yourself, your mind wanders to the gossip earlier: an idol dating behind everyone’s backs, for the lack of a better term. You shared the same sentiments, idols should be able to date whoever they want, but it’s the disregard to their contract and group that stresses you out more. One way or another, it strays towards San’s confession and his avoidance. He’s a man with his heart on his sleeve, and a head more stubborn than a bull. Just who did he think you had an interest on? You were mindlessly picking at your food, before snapping out of it when you remembered that you were eating. It took longer for you to finish your meal, not used to these portions after months of being on the move but you managed. Your phone buzzes and it startles you out of the silence. 

[Jiwoo to You] What time are you free

[Jiwoo to You] need your help on making a statement. 

You stare at the messages in confusion. What is she on? Just as you were about to answer, you hear the claps and the choruses of ‘You did well!’, ‘Thank you for the hard work!’. 

[You to Jiwoo] three hours. 

[You to Jiwoo] what happened?

You keep your phone and clean up after yourself just in time for the boys to enter the room with the same staff member telling them that the meal is free. The director follows them and thanks everyone for the successful shoot, thanking you as well for taking care of the eight boys. The praise catches you off guard and all you could do is laugh softly and thank them for their words and work. 

Everyone could feel the end of the day’s schedule when they hit the road back to the agency. The boys were still in their stage outfits and they wanted nothing but to be in something more comfortable. For once they weren’t fast asleep in the car, they were too busy eating still (is there even a limit to their appetite?). All you could hear was their chewing and occasional excited yelling because of how kind the staff were to provide them with food and just let them talk about their album freely. A part of you smiles as they recount the last schedule. Let them have their fun before they end up talking about that damned mic. You had to admit though, hearing them eat is kind of making you hungry too. 

“We’re here.” You state and everyone’s surprisingly finished with their meals. They’re that hungry? They hop off the car and rustle about to return into their regular clothes. They had to return these clothes to their stylists to prep them for the succeeding weeks of performance. 

Once they’re greeted by their stylists, the environment suddenly booms with energy. Food really does something to these eight boys. It takes a while before you’re greeted by them in their normal clothes again. Their makeup long gone as well. They look like regular twenty something like this. Manager Yoon exits the office, taking the keys from you, the swift work surprising you. 

“Hey!”

“My turn, remember? Hongjoong is staying late tonight..” 

You pout, sometimes being the youngest in a company makes it easy for your seniors to tease you. After his words, you nod. “Alright, just give me the keys when you get back.” You wave the rest of them goodbye, and you look at Hongjoong who’s just leaning against the wall. “Are you going to stay late to work on music?” 

He flashes an apologetic smile. “You need our side of our story too.” 

This was going to be a long day but it had to be addressed. You just hope it would end with enough time to get to talk to Jiwoo. 

The next few hours went by with the two of you trying to clear everything. Hongjoong recounting everything that had to deal with the microphone before the staff’s outburst. He even apologizes for you becoming the victim to those words. 

“Hongjoong, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize for something you didn’t do.” You counter gently. You just wanted your bed, to just retreat from today’s events. You can write up an email to the staff in the morning. 

“It’s still our fault, regardless, that you had to deal with that.” Hongjoong returns, he’s not angry at all. On the contrary, he’s frustrated. Not only does he have to deal with schedules on top of schedules, composing, and San’s emotions, he had to deal with an unnecessary outburst that shouldn’t have been directed at you. 

You just flash him a smile, dropping the topic. “Anyways, I’ll relay this to the staff in the morning. Manager Bae will be in charge of your schedules tomorrow.” You look at the time, only half an hour before Jiwoo calls. “Let’s get going?” 

The ride home is quiet as well, at least the silence isn’t stifling. He busies himself with his phone, looking through anything new that has happened in social media. You look at the clock from time to time, a little bit worried for your friend who would call anytime soon. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, his voice snapping you out of your anxious state.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He doesn’t need to deal with your own issues. “Can you keep an eye on my phone? I’m waiting for a call.” You ask just in time for the light to turn green. 

He spots your phone, leaning against the cup holder and puts it on his lap as he goes through his phone. Fifteen minutes in and your phone suddenly vibrates in his hand. He looks at the screen and reads the name out loud. “Jiwoo is calling you..” He says, a little confused if this is the call you were waiting for. 

An annoyed hiss slips from your lips. “Pick it up.” It was inevitable. 

“I’m driving.” You state, asking for a few more minutes. Voice a little louder, to carry over to your phone.

“I’ll be quick, I need your help making a statement.” Her voice rings loud and clear. You look at Hongjoong, he probably put it on speaker. You shoot him a look to keep quiet. 

“On what?”

“Fans found out one of my idols is dating and have been emailing the agency nonstop. I made a draft already and I need your eyes and thoughts to fix any errors.” She says and you rub your temple with your free hand. 

“Send the draft to my email. I’ll get to it in forty five minutes. I’m on my way home.” You state, as you drum your fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m guessing this is what the staff was talking about earlier.” You say though a little softer. 

“You know how word travels fast in this industry.” She returns with a groan. “Call me when you get home, I’ve sent the email already.” 

“Will do, bye.”

She hangs up and you let out the breath you’ve been holding. The silence that hangs over you and Hongjoong is heavy. “Whatever just happened, is between us. If the others find out about it, let them find out about it themselves.” You rarely sound this stern and stressed that all Hongjoong could do is nod. 

Maybe that was why you rejected San. Jiwoo was right, word travels fast in this industry, it’s why he always has to make sure the boys don’t go out of line too much for their sake. He lets them learn from their mistakes but none of them grave enough to affect their name. This one though seemed heavy, especially if fans were emailing the company already. He was going to need to talk to someone though to know how to deal with San should things go out of hand. But how can he when you tell him not to with such a tone? Hell, you don’t even know that he knows that San confessed to you. 

Once you enter the parking lot you unlock the doors. “Get out of the car already, so that once I park the car smooth ride up to our apartments.” You say, a little gentler this time as you seem to have calmed down after such a bombardment of information. He looks at you with raised brows but follows nonetheless. 

By the time you get out of the car, you see Hongjoong waiting for you with the doors already open. An odd weight falls between the two of you as the doors close. 

“Is that why you rejected San?” Hongjoong carefully asks as the elevator slowly goes up. 

Your eyes are shut as you let yourself catch a breather before answering his question. “You know already, huh.” 

“Seonghwa and I kind of figured it out with his sudden mood shifts.” He reasons. “Yunho figured it out too but I doubt the others do yet.” He adds. 

A groan slips from you and you want nothing to just slip down the floor. “Can we talk about this confession thing when your Thanxx promotions end?”

“That’s too far..” He tells you. For once, you can see why the members look up and respect him so much. 

A pause. 

“Fine, Monday. You have no schedules anyways.” This makes him smile a bit. The sooner this is fixed, the better. The conversation is fortunately, cut short when the elevator rings at your floor. “Get some sleep, Hongjoong.” You bid him goodbye as you step out. 

He calls for your name carefully and you stop in your tracks. The lights from the elevator hasn’t closed either so you turn to look at him properly. “Thank you really for everything. You can lean on me or Seonghwa at least, for anything.” 

Something in you softens at those words and you nod. “Yes, sleep well Hongjoong. Manager Bae’s going to be the one in charge of your schedules in the morning and afternoon.” With that he waves you goodbye, the doors closing between the two of you. 

Once you were left alone, your eyes heat up but you shake yourself back to reality. “Still got work.” You remind yourself. 

You don’t know what time you fell asleep, but it’s already noon. “Shit.” You immediately check your laptop if you’ve sent the revised statement to Jiwoo that you worked on. A relieved sigh escapes your lips when you see that you did. You reviewed your emails and see if there’s anything you need to get done. For the first time, you don’t have much to deal with so you check on your social media to see what’s been going on. 

The idol that Jiwoo was stressing over last night is trending. 

You stare at his name for a few moments, deciding if you should check what the noise is about or what the fans have been saying but you think otherwise. Instead, you opt to get ready for what’s left of the day before heading to the agency. 

--------

The boys were on their phones while waiting for their call time. Some of them playing video games while the others look at social media. They see a familiar name on the trending topics and decide to see what’s going on. 

Seonghwa immediately leans to Hongjoong and shows the news to which the latter winces. He looks over at San and he and Wooyoung are also looking at the same post. 

“Should I message him?” Wooyoung asks, he glances over at the older two when he feels their gazes on him. “Did you see the news too?” 

“Yeah. Check on him if you can.” Seonghwa gently urges, worried also for their friend. Truthfully, the rest of the group wasn’t that close to that idol but considering Wooyoung, he’s bound to have some sort of friendship with him. 

San’s busy in his head, mulling over the news. They just resigned. Their friend resigned over being caught in a dating news. His eyebrows are furrowed, deep in thought as he’s just as worried as his friend but he’s worried also for you. For some reason, even when he tries to avoid you, his thoughts still go back to you. How many messages has he composed that he would delete? How many times has he tried to get himself to act normally only to fail and close himself off from you? 

Hongjoong keeps his eye on his two members, clearly with their own problems regarding the news. He knows one will be fine, but the other… it’s hard to say. He looks over at Seonghwa who’s a little bothered by the entire thing as well. “We need to talk to Manager-nim later.” 

“I’ll handle it. Think you can handle San for the time being?” 

“Yep.”

--------

[Jiwoo to You] well fuck, regardless of the statement, they just resigned. 

It takes a moment for you to understand what she was referring to but once you did, you freeze up. It’s like all your biggest fears were coming true, though not for you, it’s right in front of you. 

[You to Jiwoo] drinks this weekend? Your place? 

[Jiwoo to You] call. 

You were going to put your own problems on the back burner for now. This girl probably had to hold so much together thanks to that guy and now things aren’t getting any better until probably months down the line. Too busy in your own thoughts, you accidentally spill water on yourself. “Please.” You murmur to no one in particular as you wrap your jacket around your waist before cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. 

--------

[Seonghwa to You] Are you free later? I think we need to talk about San. 

And here you are thinking you were their manager but then again, the age difference makes it easier for them to see you as their friend after work. You lean against the back rest of your chair. 

[You to Seonghwa] Yeah, free by 6pm. I’ll wait for you. 

Seonghwa shows the reply to Hongjoong and they relax a little. They need to know what you think of San because it was starting to get clearer that you never gave him a definite response to his feelings. 

You stare at your messages, even going as far as reading through your conversations with San which consisted of various topics and banter-- with the occasional fishing for praise from him.

 Why were you so affected by his feelings? 

You spend some time watching some of the videos he has of the members having fun, you could clearly hear his laughter on one of them and it makes you smile a bit, missing that sound a little too much. 

It takes your phone buzzing with another notification to snap you out of your thoughts. “Ah, two more hours.” You note at the time, not really looking forward to your talk. 

[You to Seonghwa] do you want me to get you something to eat as well? Lol

[Seonghwa to You] hehe please?

[You to Seonghwa] lmao, fine. 

Still a kid at heart, really. 

--------

If the food you have on the counter from 7/11 says anything, it’s that you decided to wait for Seonghwa before eating, and that you’re prepared for his appetite. 

[You to Seonghwa] I’m at the office kitchen. 

[You to Seonghwa] I also have meat. 

[Seonghwa to You] ^^*

His reply makes you snort, already picturing his excited grin at the mere mention of meat. It won’t be too long before they arrive at the office. The door opens mere minutes later and while you expected the room to suddenly boom with noise, it was only Seonghwa who entered the room. He catches the look in your eyes and for some reason wanted to tease you about your feelings but now isn’t the right time for that. 

“Relax. Everyone else is just changing and getting ready to head home. I told them I’m staying behind to do some vocal practice.” He knows you well enough to know that you need the complete story when it comes to their schedules. Also because it’s not the complete truth. 

You sigh in relief and gesture for him to sit and eat already. “Let’s talk about it when everyone else is gone.” 

“No one can hear us here. The room next to us is the gym, the room next to the gym is the studio so you’re fine.” 

“Seonghwa.” You say, still a little tense with the mere idea of the boys walking in on your talk. 

“You can’t push this away forever.” He cuts you off, his voice taking on a little bit of strength that surprises the two of you. The look on your eyes makes him look away as he starts to eat. “I’m sorry about the tone but I’m serious. You can’t push this away and think it’ll fix itself.” 

Silence falls on the two of you as you unpack your meal. You let go of the tone slipup, he was right and you doubted this issue could wait for Jiwoo. So while you wait for your respective meals to heat up, you tell Seonghwa what happened: starting from the small things San would do since your first day up until the moment he confessed to you. You admit that you were stumped into who he would think that you would fancy as you have inevitably been stuck to them since their promotions started. 

That’s one thing Seonghwa didn’t expect, sort of. San’s jealousy is something everyone’s familiar with but jealousy in the aspect of romance wasn’t something Seonghwa expected in this situation. It actually makes him forget that his meal is still hot, causing him to slightly burn his tongue from the unexpected temperature spike. At the sight of his blunder, you hand him a glass of water to which he refuses as he struggles to chew the hot piece of beef. You decide to just watch his struggle as you sit there and eat your food. 

Once he succeeds, he takes a few sips of water. His eyes clearly watery from the pain. “Are you okay or do you need a moment?” You ask him, trying to hide the fact that you were amused by his struggle to regain his composure. He finishes what’s left of his water before he turns his attention to you. 

“Did you ever tell him your answer to his confession?” He asks you and it’s the way your shoulders drop that tell you that how you answered or lack thereof is the reason why San is the way he is. “You didn’t tell him that you like him too?” 

Now’s your turn to choke on your food. You stare at him incredulously as you try to regain some sort of control with your food mishap. “W-wait..” you sputter out as you try to catch your breath. It takes some time before you’re able to breathe normally and eat. “I never said anything about me liking him?” 

“You never told him?” 

“How do you even react to someone who tells you they like you while nearly about to fall asleep while standing?” 

“I don’t know…” he trails off, gathering the right words in his head, just as he was about to continue, the door swinging open causes the two of you to stop. 

“Didn’t know you guys were still here.” To be honest, you didn’t think San would be in the studio either. 

“San-ah, I thought you went home with the rest of the boys already.” Seonghwa says, straightening up as he sets his food down. The younger catches how his hyung’s eyes flit to you then to him. 

The younger steps inside the kitchen, refilling his water bottle. “I didn’t. I wanted to squeeze in a workout. I thought you left already.” He returns. All you want to do right now is leave the room. He turns to the two of you once his bottle was filled and it’s unnerving to see his eyes look so steely. 

“I was going to leave later but we can go home now.” Seonghwa returns calmly. His eyes return to you trying to look as if he was asking if they can go home. You knew better, the talk was going to happen some other time. With that look, you quickly finish your meal, then packing up the trash. 

“Sure. Let’s go home.” 

---------

The ride home wasn’t any better: both of them busy with their phones, both sitting at different sides of the car. At least you had full control of the radio. 

Now in San’s eyes, he wonders why Seonghwa would’ve said he was going to do some vocal practice when he was eating dinner with you in the kitchen. He didn’t think of his hyung as someone who would lie. He’s better than that isn’t he? The younger does feel a sense of annoyance though, that he would say such only to go behind their backs and eat with you. He’s trying hard not to think of the worse of his hyung knowing well that he’s the better option between the two of you, but with the recent news of their friend resigning due to dating along with his feelings for you? It’s a challenge. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, doing his best to calm himself down. 

“San-ah, your shoulders are tense.” The older’s soft voice calls him out of his thoughts and it effectively gets him to drop his shoulders. Seonghwa looks at the other for a moment then returns his gaze to his phone. He worries of what goes on in his head especially after seeing the two of you in the kitchen. He genuinely didn’t think that San would stay late especially during promotional periods. He worries that he may have made it worse for everyone, especially him and you. 

“We’re here.” Your voice makes the two raise their heads from their screens. The cold lighting of the parking lot telling them that they are home. You hop out of the car first, waiting for them to get out while making sure you got everything with you. Seonghwa goes ahead, hoping that the talk (or whatever was talked about) makes you move. 

San does it for you though. “So I guess I got my answer?” He pipes up, lingering around you. His gaze beyond you but at his hyung who’s waiting for the lift. Your confused look makes him hiss in frustration. His reaction makes you snap, too tired from all the mental gymnastics you do, too tired from bringing them from point A to point B day in and day out, too tired from keeping yourself together for their sake, for your friend’s sake and for yourself. 

“San, how sure are you about it? All of it? You’re confusing my care for something else. Everyone is worried about you, I have to worry about you as well and while I am your friend, I’m still your manager. At the end of the day, my job is to make sure you guys are able to do your job as artists.” Your blood runs cold at how those words rush out of you, you could barely look at him. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the car’s security lock. “San, how sure are you about my feelings? How are you filling in the blanks that I should be filling?” 

Those words make his feet move, leaving you in the dirt as he walks over to where Seonghwa is. For a moment, you feared that he would get physical-- boy has a black belt after all. He doesn’t. He just lingers by the back, waiting for the lift. He should’ve done a more strenuous workout just so his mind would stop running. 

Seeing him look like so makes you sigh. You had to admit your faults on that, you’re just so tired. You promised your day off would be after promotions but you kind of wish you could make it earlier and have it this week. By the time you arrive at where the two are, the doors of the elevator opens letting the three of you in. You don’t press your floor number first, letting the boys get their rest first. You’re getting additional hours of sleep today anyways. 

“Good night.” You mutter as the two of them step out of the elevator. Seonghwa returns the greeting and so does San. Though one looks back and gives you a friendly wave, the other stalks off, shoulders just as tensed as it was earlier. You look at Seonghwa and shake your head. That’s all he needed to know as to how the mere moments he was out of earshot went. 

“Joong and I will deal with him. Get some rest and think it through. We still need to talk again.” 

“Yeah.” You just hope you didn’t fuck it up for everyone. Something in your gut told you otherwise. 

Part 5

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.3

Masquerade 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 2950

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

Despite the doubt you had your whole life, meeting Steve was a dream coming true. Too bad you had to meet his ‘family’ too.

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends... go figure

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

An average American had sex on the third date; taking the big step in a relationship, as your friend helpfully remarked when you told him about the upcoming event. Needless to say, Steven Grant Rogers was not an average American. He was Captain America, i.e. an Avenger, technically was 95 years old (soon turning 96) and was not used to the pace of 21st century relationship.

To be honest, you didn’t mind a bit; there was no physical pressure on your relationship. Sure, the man was such a fine specimen it should be illegal and you would love to climb him like a tree, but it was a nice change of pace. You never really liked the whole third date thing. When you felt like it should happen, it should happen, right? That was how you saw it, so you were alright with Steve being a bit old-fashioned when it came to physical stuff.

Of course, he was also your soulmate. While with other guys you didn’t feel the need to rush, with Steve, you somehow felt a need not to rush. Maybe you were overthinking his sensibilities, maybe not. The bottom-line was: you took it slow.

So, with the fact that a kiss on a cheek – from you to him – happened on your second date (if the diner counted as the first) given, you truly didn’t expect him to… push you into anything even resembling a second base. Hell, you weren’t sure you were on the first.

An average American had sex on the third date. You, having your third date with Steve Rogers, were about to take a different important step; to meet his friends. On a party. Steve’s (supposedly secret) birthday party. Oh boy. To say you were intimidated by the idea of meeting the Avengers would be an understatement.

And Steve wasn’t helping.

“They are… perhaps a bit much, but… they are the only true friends I have. I want you to meet my friends. I’d like to introduce you,” he stated while you walked side by side in a park at the end of your date number two.

Your hands had been brushing his and vice versa for several minutes now and you couldn’t handle it, simply interlacing your fingers with his. He gave you a sweet smile when you did so, signalling he was more than okay with it, drawing a circle on the back of your hand.

“But… what if they won’t, uhm, approve of me?” you asked, your insides uncomfortably clenched.

He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to do the same. His free hand slowly rose to your arm, gently squeezing.

“They will. And if they don’t… they will with time. You’re my soulmate. I think we have the most important approval in our pocket already.”

The smile he gave you was soft yet blinding, making your heart grow. You had only met the second time and you already seemed to know each other for months, responding maybe hesitantly, but instinctively the right way as if something between you was reaching out, guiding one another. It was wonderful. A bit scary, but immensely wonderful.

You were gazing into his eyes, swearing you could see galaxies. You quickly learned to love the little green in his irises, staining the sky blue, somehow making it… better. Your mouth acted on its own.

“Okay. I’ll… okay.” Did you just agree?! “What the occasion will be?”

He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze. “My birthday.”

“What?!”

“And before you think of going crazy about a gift for me-“ he stopped your train of thought before it started – how did he know? “-when you show up, it will be the greatest gift.”

Sappy, whispered a small voice in your head.

You love it, sing-sang your heart, melting.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you murmured and he flashed you a smile.

“Very.”

“Fine. But remember, you asked me not to give you anything…”

“Noted.”

You bit your lip as you stared at him, your heart about as fast as your mind. The way he was looking at you… was it possible to look at someone you barely just met this way? If you didn’t think you must have appeared the same when looking at him, you would call bullshit. But here you were.

Before you could change your mind, you listened to the instinct coming from god knew where; you got on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

You retreated slowly, watching his reaction, rewarded by his gaze full of wonder and happy sparks.

“Early birthday present?” he muttered, his eyes falling on your lips for a split second. You licked your lips unwittingly, watching his eyes quickly turn away, his Adam’s apple jumping. Not a perfect gentleman then. Good.

“If the shoe fits… it’s just—it felt right. Was it weird? It was-“

“-perfect,” he finished, tightening the grip on your fingers interlaced with his.

You smiled automatically at his sincere expression.

“ ’kay.”

“Now let’s get you home so you can get your sleep. Can’t keep you awake with a work day in sight…”

“That’s really thoughtful, you know,” you said, meaning every word. “You are.”

“Which is why I think the party would be a good occasion. You can always hide in a crowd if it comes to the worst and Tony’s too annoying.”

You chuckled and started walking again, joy filling every ounce of your being as his thumb caressed the back of your hand once more.

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A package was waiting for you at your apartment that evening, containing a mask, because apparently, it was a masquerade ball. You were glad Steve had got you a mask fitting with your dress; when he had asked a colour, you had assumed he had wanted to get a matching tie. This was much worse. And much better.

A taxi picked you up. And Black Widow waited for you at the lobby of the famous skyscraper, apologizing for Steve who was busy at the moment, the birthday boy he was, and she casually slipped in that she might have searched some database, found you via your ‘first words’ and sent Steve your way without him being aware.

You were shocked, no arguing there, but realized she had done… what she had been supposed to do.

“Oh… o-okay. Thanks, I guess…”

“You’re not upset?” she asked on the way up in the elevator, clearly surprised.

You shrugged. “Well, I already had the words on my skin, right? This was the way it was meant to happen then.”

The not so intimidating spy hummed thoughtfully, putting on her mask. Also, she looked absolutely gorgeous and you had no idea why Steve would ever look your way. Besides his soulmark. You were a lucky, lucky bitch, just like Ryan had said.

You followed Natasha’s suit, hiding your face as well. You actually felt better, shielded from awaiting prying eyes at least partly.

Natasha had smuggled you in with no trouble (because you weren’t an official guest, Steve’s idea so you had a bit of privacy, you loved him for it) and here you were, a second glass of champagne in your hand as you watched Steve leave the little podium after he thanked everyone for coming.

The good news was that no one had spotted you or tried to make conversation with you.

The bad news was that it included Steve who seemed too busy with anyone else; not for the lack of trying to escape as it seemed though.

You toyed with the idea of approaching him too, but you were too much of a chicken. When Hawkeye was talking to him for instance, you wouldn’t have come to interrupt them. However, you caught Steve scanning the room few times; you wondered if he noticed you… could he though, in the mask? You felt invisible, both in a good and a bad way. Maybe you should just-

“What’s a lady like yourself doing here, drinking alone?” a voice startled you on your left, nearly making you drop the half-empty (or half-full) glass. Your hand flied to your chest as if holding your suddenly thundering heart in.

“Jesus… you startled me… Mr.Stark,” you added in horror when recognizing him as one of the masked people on the podium earlier.

“Hm… looks like your conscience isn’t clean then, when you’re scared so easily. Why is that?” he pried and you gulped nervously.

Oh god, this meeting was already going even worse than you had imagined.

“I don’t know about that… are you enjoying the party?” you attempted a small talk, hoping he would leave you alone until Steve somehow found his way to you.

He scoffed. “It’s a party. So, always. Plus, my place. Party organized by me. I’m enjoying it plenty. You?”

Your throat closed up. "Not really my scene, Mr.Stark."

"That's interesting. Because I can't recall inviting anyone whose scene this wasn't. I didn’t catch your name, miss…?"

Ha. Inviting you. Sure. And your name? Of course.

Shit.

"Isn't this S- Captain Rogers' party? I would think he was the one inviting people…" you couldn't help but snark, remembering Steve's uncomfortable expression when he had talked about the upcoming event. The thought behind the masks surprised you though – it was surprisingly fitting to Steve's personality. The masks were to remain anonymous, because all of the guest could be heroes in their own way.

"I threw it for him! And you're quite sassy. Who the hell-"

You were saved by Natasha Romanoff in all her glory, her hand delicately placed on Stark’s forearm as he gestured at you.

"Tony? We have a little trouble with the birthday surprise," she informed him swiftly and you barely hid the sigh of relief. You were starting to adore that woman.

"But-" he protested, his head turning from you to her and back and to her and back to you, as if he couldn’t decide what was more pending.

Oh please, let it be the surprise.

"They need you, right now."

"Fine. Keep an eye on her. I'm not done talking to her," he threw over his shoulder and the spy rolled her eyes as he blended in the crowd.

"...thank you, Ms.Romanoff."

"Natasha," she reminded you, lopsided smile on her face.

"Sorry. Natasha."

"Don't worry about it. Go some have fun," she beckoned to the dance floor and then to the bar as if you should choose whatever you preferred. You would prefer Steve, to be honest, anywhere.

"Yeah, like I said to Mr.Stark; not really my scene."

She grinned when you shifted uncomfortably. "Then I guess it's good that your knight in shining armour is approaching."

"What?" You whipped around to follow her line of sight, not seeing anyone, and when you spun back to her, she was gone. "That wasn't freaky at all…"

You shook your head, sipping on your drink again.

"Are you enjoying the evening, madam?"

A smile spread your lips at instant and you faced him, relieved. It was like everything was about to be alright all of sudden. You even accepted the fact he approached you as if you were a stranger, playing along.

"Captain Rogers, good evening."

"What gave me away?"

You chuckled, many possible responses flying through your mind.

Your voice tingling my spine. Your broad shoulders and arms which I want to hold me down. Your ridiculously pretty eyes. Your lips…

"You're hard to miss, Captain."

An almost patronizing smile graced is lips. "Please, call me Steve."

You bit your lip, not even having to pretend nervousness. God, he looked amazing. The perfectly fitting suit, the bowtie, the mask… he looked like a Disney prince. You didn’t mind imagining you were in a fairy tale; it simply felt like being in one.

"Steve," you repeated obediently, maintaining your role. "Isn't it a better question if you are? Enjoying the evening, I mean? It is your night after all."

"I do now," he emphasized, his eyes wandering all over you, settling on your partly hidden face. The mask was barely covering your upper face, leaving the better part of your cheeks and lips free. Still, it gave you the feeling of being hidden enough; nevertheless, in front of him, you felt naked, as if he saw right through. For some reason, it wasn’t scaring you so far.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I found what I was looking for."

"Is... is that so? And…" you swallowed thickly under his intense eyes. "And just what were you looking for?"

You expected him to simply say ‘you’, but he managed to take your breath away, causing you to break your character in a fraction of second.

"The most beautiful and enchanting woman in this room, naturally."

His irises twinkled with mischief as he was clearly enjoying making you nearly squirm, but his pleasant voice held a serious note, not leaving a doubt that he meant every word.

"Christ, Steve, make me blush like a schoolgirl, why don't you… but thanks, I guess. Though you should probably have your eyesight checked."

"My vision is 20/20, madam, maybe better." He smiled warmly, reaching out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

You couldn’t say you weren’t taken aback. Mostly because… well.

"I'm not great at dancing," you admitted sheepishly, but accepted his hand in order to shorten the distance between you. You stood nearly chest to chest now, the feeling intoxicating. Despite fearing you would make a fool of yourself, you got chills from the proximity, pleasant ones.

"Just another prove of being perfect for me then. I'm not great either."

"So why did you ask?" you chuckled, relieved that at least you wouldn’t be alone in this. He tugged at your hand, pulling you even closer.

"Wouldn't forgive myself if I haven't tried to ask the prettiest dame of the evening and win a… uh, resemblance of a dance. Please?"

What you could see from his handsome face was pleading you. Who were you to deny him? Especially with how he was just dropping compliments like that, effortlessly? You could turn into a puddle of jello and you wouldn’t notice.

"You're too sweet, you know that?" you whispered and his smile widened when leading you onto the dance floor.

"I'm trying."

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Tony smelled something fishy. Everything was alright with the surprise fireworks. Romanoff was pulling his leg. Why?

He soon found out or he believed so.

"...is that Capsicle dancing?" he blurted out when he spotted the broad shoulders (never admit that out loud, he reminded himself) with a hand on it.

"Hm?" The sneaky spy smiled absently, following Tony’s line of sight. She sounded unimpressed then. "Oh. Looks like it."

"Whom he would be dancing with- Romanoff! I told you to keep an eye on her!" he yelped when he recognized the dress… and the woman wearing them. Well, didn’t recognize; that was the problem really. Who the hell was she and how had she got in? This place was a Fort Knox, especially tonight. Invited guests only.

"I guess someone else has an eye on her."

"What's up?" Clint hummed as he spotted Tony’s indignation.

"He's- he's-!" he gestured towards the supersoldier, unable to form words.

What was happening here? Why was Romanoff so chill? They had an intruder! She might not look like it, but she was a part of the security tonight!

"Rogers' dancing. Stark's having a stroke," she explained, indifferent.

"Who's having a stroke?" Bruce joined them with a beer in his hand. Tony threw his hands in the air.

"Stark," Nat replied, Clint too busy watching Cap swaying calmly in the rhythm; more or less.

"No one’s having a stroke!" Tony hissed. "This isn't fu-"

"Is that Steve dancing? Who's the woman?" Bruce seemed intrigued, exchanging a glance with Clint.

"She's very beautiful. The captain chose his dance partner well,” Thor hummed behind Tony's back all of sudden, making the billionaire jump in fright. Natasha snickered. Tony pointed an accusing finger at her.

"Stop that! It's your fault! You were supposed to watch her, because I sure as hell haven't invited her."

"She wasn't invited?" Clint finally sounded alarmed and Tony shot him a grateful look. Someone cared!

"Relax, Stark. It is my fault, I was the one to smuggle her in."

“What?!” he cried out, causing few people around them to raise their eyebrows. Natasha rolled her eyes at them.

"Really? Is she a friend of yours? From… business?" Bruce pried carefully and Natasha snorted.

"Barely. But you'll meet her, don't worry."

"She is not posing a treat then?" Thor summed up nothing, his briefly tensed shoulders relaxing.

That was it?!

"Sure isn't," Natasha uttered, the corner of her lips twitching. God, Tony hated Russian spies and their secrets.

"Then I might ask her for a dance!” Thor exclaimed, his grin wide. “She is exceptionally beautiful lady indeed."

"Careful not to step on someone's toes!" Natasha called after him and he made his way to the dancing pair.

"I'm gonna ask her right after him!" Tony declared immediately, disappearing into the crowd and Natasha smirked. She knew you were nervous about meeting them and this was actually rather good way. She just hoped Tony wouldn't annoy the hell out of you.

"And by someone you mean Steve?" Bruce guessed, which earned Natasha a challenging eyebrow from Clint.

"Maybe."

"Did you push her towards Steve or did you sneak her in here, because he asked you to?" Clint asked the right question like always.

She smiled at him playfully. "I'll tell you later. Stop being so nosy, Barton."

"Not fair…" He huffed and went to the bar for a refill, no doubt being determined to see how it would all play out. Natasha chuckled.

"Would you… like to dance?" Bruce asked all of sudden, making her lose her humour, only a brief smile remaining. Sweet.

"Sure, why not..."

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Part 4

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Tags: @cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld  @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt​

Tags are open ;) If you want in or out, shoot me a message or an ask :))

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Steve from Spiderman: Homecoming taking a chair to sit with me:  

“So, your fic got a bit longer than expected. Again…. “

Oops? I need a lot of fluffy Steve, amazing Natasha and exasperated Tony in my life :D

THANK YOU FOR READING :-*

[whathappenedtomyweekend]

Rose’s Christmas Carol (Part I)

"It will get easier over time," they said. "Time heals many wounds," they said.

No, it doesn't, if it gets hurt, it collapses and takes everything with it, Rose thought bitterly and took the bend to her parents' house. As much as she loved them, she'd rather been alone today. Maybe go to work tomorrow. Anything to distract her from Christmas and - most of all - remembering. "Oh no, I'm not lettin' you mope around in your flat, all by yourself, on Christmas!" Jackie had said sternly, thinking she'd do her daughter a favour. Rose had given in at the end, tired of fighting back.

But how was her Mum to know that being with her on Christmas would hurt more than being alone? How was she to know that Rose felt ashamed to be with her family, after she'd been so ready to leave them behind? She couldn't know what Rose had told the Doctor after she'd crossed over and how sure she had been.

Still, he was gone. Another evening, another day, another night without him. Rose stopped her car and leaned her head against the steering-wheel for a moment, exhaling slowly, gathering herself. The radio was playing "Last Christmas" again. Rose huffed. "Last Christmas I gave you my heart," George Michael sang. "The very next day, you gave it away."

Last Christmas, she thought, I woke up crying and catatonically sat in mum's kitchen two days straight. Rose ignored the tears gathering in her eyes.

'You saw me. I changed, right in front of you ...'

No. Not again. With a bit-back sob, Rose pushed herself back and gathered her things in a sudden rush of newfound angry energy and dragged herself out into the cold along the frontyard. Her feeble fingers pressed the doorbell. "Hello?" "Dad, it's me!"

'Every single cell in my body. But ... I'm still me.'

Rose shook her head, as if she could get rid of his voice, wondering if it would ever stop. The door opened and Rose tried not to think about the other failed launch of the dimension cannon. She let Pete hug her and for a moment, she didn't manage to hide her emotions behind a smile. Her father laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled sympathetically, almost apologetic. He'd been there when the launch had failed for the umpteenth time, he'd been the one to drag her out when, in a moment of one of her rare breakdowns because the frustration and grief and exhaustion took over, she had been weeping and hitting and screaming soundlessly.

Rose gathered up a tight smile at her Dad and then pushed through the door into the living room. "Rosie!", the voice of a child squealed and Rose couldn't help but crack a smile when she gathered her little brother in her arms. "Hey, Tony," she crooned softly and stroked his curly-haired head. "You okay? Did you and Mummy decorate the tree yet?" "Mummy said wait on you, Rosie!", Tony replied happily. "'m helped choosing the tree!" Rose's eyes flickered over to the tree, boxes set beside it.

'Remote control. But who's controlling it?'

"Oh, did you? Well, you did a brilliant job, it's beautiful! Best tree I've ever seen!" Rose praised and Tony giggled when she threw him up in the air a little. His little arms clung around her neck when he came down again. "So, you wanna get started?" "Yeah!" Tony exclaimed and wobbled away when his sister let him down again.

"Let's just call Mummy and then we'll -"

Rose broke off when she suddenly faced her mother who stood in the door of the kitchen, a wooden spoon still in her hand. Rose knew she'd insist on cooking herself for Christmas and that she'd given the entire staff off for the holidays. She didn't even have time to do anything and Jackie wrapped her arms around her daughter with a soft call of her name. "Thank you," she whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Rose too hear and the young woman swallowed the lump in her throat as she pulled back. Jackie smiled and took a step back, taking in Rose's tired, dull eyes and the attempt to hide the bags under her eyes with make-up, her pale skin and the harshness of her once so soft lips. Rose tried to ignore the flash of pity and sadness in her mother's eyes when she said quickly: "You look good, Rose."

'First things first ... be honest. How do I look?'

Rose lowered her head. "Thanks."

'Good different or bad different?'

Her eyes swam back into focus when Tony tugged her sleeve. "Rosie, can we start?" She forced a grin on her lips. "Sure." Quietly, just for herself, she whispered: "Allons-y."

Jackie's gaze had barely left Rose's face the whole evening. Eyeing her carefully, she caught her daughter throw a quick glance at the door for the twentyfirst time. Rose seemed restless, looking at the door every now and then, as if she was waiting for something. Jackie could only have a faint guess and sadly pushed the thought away.

Just over a year had passed now and still, Rose hadn’t let go of what had happened. Pete kept telling his wife about the launches and Jackie knew about Rose's latest "breakdown", he'd called it. She thought these had been over; she knew it still was bad but she didn't know it was that bad. Not even a year had gone by, after all. She hadn't expected her daughter to move on quickly and would, honestly have been rather worried if she'd found her daughter back at her old self in just a few months.

But still, there was this constant layer of sadness in her eyes, deep down. Past the fake smile and the concealed dark circles under her eyes and the bright red lipstick she was wearing now. Under that mask, it was easy to see: the grief, exhaustion. The weariness. Rose looked drained. Depressed. Empty. The longer Jackie looked at her, the more she couldn't help but think that maybe Rose would never really heal. Because maybe her Rose, the old Rose Tyler, had stayed on the other side. Behind the void, in the TARDIS, with the Doctor.

Rose perked up when she heard the rattle of porcelain and quickly jumped up. "Oh, Mum, let me."

Jackie smiled. "Thanks. Be a dear and get some more potatoes."

"Sure, hang on a mo'." Rose got up, took the bowl and made her way into the kitchen, a warm smell of turkey still in the air.

'Back to your Mum. It's all waiting: fish and chips, sausages and mash, beans on toast - no, Christmas, turkey!'

Rose set the bowl on the counter, sighing. Quickly, she scanned the cooking plate in search for the mashed potatoes - when something suddenly caught her eyes' attention. A round plate, covered by an aluminium layer. "Oh, and I think we're ready for the nut loaf, too!", her Mum called from the dining table and Rose tried not to fall apart as she made her way through the kitchen towards the door, still staring down on the plate she held in her trembling hands.

'Although ... having met your mother ... nut loaf would be more appropriate.'

The plate slid out of her hands and crashed on the cold tiles. And that was when Rose gave up. That was when she just couldn't take it anymore, the moment she let the tears run freely down her cheeks. She barely even felt the shattered pieces of porcelain and crumbles of loaf around her when she slowly sank down, clutching the wood of the door frame. That was how Jackie found her seconds later when she heard the crash. Rose sat on the floor, sobbing violently, her face screwed up as she constantly whispered a single word she felt like drowning.

"Oh God, Rose!"

'Rose Tyler-'

The voice of her mother was mixing with the one in her head and it made her crumble. Rose felt hands drag her up and she curled up on the floor, wanting nothing more than to just lie there and cry herself out. Jackie crouched down next to her and after a while she managed to pull Rose into her arms and then Rose clung to her like a drowning man to a lifesaver. "Rose ... Rose, what's wrong? Rose ..." Rose opened her mouth to talk, but no sound came out, no word of how tired she was and how much she missed him and that she wished she could just leave. She let herself be picked up and led to the living room where she was sat down, still weeping because everything was missing and she felt so out of place.

Nobody touched her in ten minutes. Jackie shook her head when Tony wanted to run to his sister and picked him up in her arms. "What's wrong with Rose, Mummy?" "She just ... she just misses her friend, sweetheart," Jackie replied softly and Tony asked if she meant the Doctor but broke off when Rose let out a whimper at the mention of his name and hid her face in her hands. He'd never seen his sister cry. It was not until five minutes later that Rose had calmed down to a level she could talk. She looked up at Jackie with red, tear - stained eyes and whispered:

"I ... I ..." "What, sweetheart, what is it?"

Jackie sat down next to her and Rose clasped her hands in front of her mouth, holding back a sob.

"I miss him, I m-miss him so much." Jackie looked at her daughter and felt her heart break.

"I know, sweetheart, me too," She pulled her into her arms. "Me too ..." Rose let herself be held and hid herself in the warmth of her mother's arms and finally gave in. And then all the words suddenly started flowing out of her mouth, unstoppable now and she wasn't able to take them back or hold them in.

"I just keep waiting, I keep thinking he'll burst through that door any second, I, I keep w-waiting for him to walk in bec .. because he promised, he," She drew a deep shaking breath, the tears still hadn't stopped and another sob escaped her when she pulled out her her mother's arms, her own arms helplessly by her side.

"He said he'd be here," Rose whispered then, half sobbing. "He said he-" She broke off and wiped her eyes but it only left her eyes stinging.

"And nothing works, nothing ever works, I've been trying for - for months I've been trying to get back to him, but it doesn't ... and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry because I keep hurting you, I tried to be okay, I really did, but it, I can't, can't ... be ..." "I know, Rose, I know,", Jackie said softly and took her hand but Rose slipped hers out of her grip.

"It's okay," Jackie's voice, too, was trembling but she continued: "It's okay to be heartbroken and no one expects you to be just back to normal, sweetheart. It’s okay to feel like this, I promise. It’s okay." Rose said nothing and just sat there, crying quietly, staring into space. Time, she thought, that's the problem.

Much later, hours after the dinner and after Tony had been brought to bed, Rose still sat on the couch in the living room. It was way after midnight and the radio started to annoy her but she just couldn't be bothered to get up; also because she feared her legs would give up on the Rose sat alone, listening to 'Merry Christmas' for the fourth time.

She hated it. Oh, how she hated Christmas. " ... and a happy new year!"

But it was never a new year, not ever a new new year, ever again. It was just another year, another year without him.

Rose knew nights like these. Nights like these, when she'd sat alone in the tiny kitchen of her new flat between the still uppacked boxes and reconsidered her resolution not to drink. The nights she remembered she had forgotten her important meeting at work. The nights she cried herself to sleep because she missed her life and just couldn't fix this gaping hole inside of her. The nights she spent on her computer looking up flights to places she'd never go because she needed to leave but also couldn't do it without him. Nights where she felt like drowning and like the walls of her flat seemed to move in closer and closer until they crushed her between them. But most of all, the nights that were just so bloody lonely.

She wondered how she could feel so lonely just because of missing one person. Rose thought of the Doctor and wanted to cry, but her eyes stayed dry. She hoped with all her heart he was better. Better than her and not falling back into his darkness. She thought of the picture she imagined every day, every time she launched another test, the Doctor sitting alone in the TARDIS, his brown eyes dull and empty, face unmoved. Lonely. She didn't want that, she never wanted him to be lonely.

Rose felt her heart skip a beat when she started up out of all sudden. Everything was absolutely silent. The radio had stopped. Finally, her first thought, then: Why's that? Slowly, Rose got up. Indeed, the screen of the radio was dark and empty. And then another noise started. The one sound in the whole universe she had yearned for. Tearing her apart, ripping her soul in half - with a gasp, she stumbled back and her hands gripped the edge of the table. For a moment her heart stopped. It couldn't be. Part of her was aching to take a second look, the other part of her didn't want to because she feared it might have been another daydream of her, the trick of an eye and the melody of her lonely heart playing the wooshing sounds of her home in the back of her mind. Finally, Rose forced herself to look into the darkness a second time.

There, in the dark backyard of the Tyler manison stood the TARDIS.

Rose froze, her heart beating faster than ever before, throwing itself against her ribcage as if it wanted to flee. But she couldn't be sure until she had touched it, until she hadn't been inside of - "Rose?" a voice - oh, how she wished this wasn't a dream because this was all it could be - called behind her. Rose turned around, almost sure to see nothing because it was another nightmare after all and she was so angry at her own memory for giving her such an accurate imitation of his voice. She tried to fight the urge to cry when she saw the tall, slim figure stand in the door, pinstripes and all. Her heart stopped as it was torn apart and then she started crying and her legs took a stumbling step forward, then another, another, yet another and by the time she reached him she had thrown every care away. It had to be real. This time it was.

Doctor. Oh, my Doctor. And then, Rose Tyler stopped in front of the Doctor.

[ravens-words]

Tell me how all this (and love, too) will ruin us

For @bamfalexmanes ❤ Elle, I hope you like it

The one in which Michael and Alex have a talk, some truths are revealed and a new hope is born.

This is a sequel of a sort to we burned down our paper house.

Happy Reading!!

.

"Are you okay?"

Michael looked up quickly, too quickly if the way his vision blurred for a second was an indication, and found Alex looking down at him with a frown of concern.

Michael hated it. He also wanted to put his lips to those three lines that resided in between his brows and kiss it away. 

"I'm fine," he mumbled pathetically, looking away before his thoughts became too hard to conceal and showed up on his face. Neither of them would be ready for that.

Alex crouched beside him and Michael's eyes flickered up to meet his. He smiled, and Michael's treacherous heart beat a hard rhythm against his chest. "You're not fine," he told him casually.

Michael laughed bitterly. Of course he wasn't alright. There was an ancient, psychotic alien who looked like his brother's twin living in his bunker. Max wasn't getting any better, seemed to be even more manic now that that they'd found Jones. And Michael had to live everyday with a regret that threatened to choke him alive every single time he saw Alex and Forrest together. When he'd walked away in the middle of Alex's song, he hadn't been thinking clearly. He'd been so sure that it wasn't their time, that they would have time later, that they weren't ready in that moment. He'd known, in his bones, that he and Alex were meant for each other. They'd loved each other through the worst of times, and still do after almost twelve years. Whatever thing he had with Forrest wouldn't last, Michael had convinced himself, but- Alex needed it. Alex needed something light and good and happy and fleeting, just like what he'd had with Maria. 

After he had tried with Maria, Michael's belief that Alex was the only one for him had been cemented. Selfleshly, he'd wanted the same to happen for Alex. Michael had desperately needed that reassurance. 

It had backfired on him, because of all the things he'd accounted for in the minute it took to make the decision to walk away, he hadn't accounted for the most important one; having to watch the love of his life be with someone else. Having to watch him kiss someone else, laugh with someone else and wishing that it was him. 

Jealousy wasn't a new thing to Michael. He'd spent his whole life, it felt like, being jealous. Jealous of Max and Isobel for getting the family while he got bounced around from home to home. Jealous of Max and Isobel when they literally killed people, and yet his life turne out to be the worst out of the three of them. Jealous of Isobel for getting married to the person she loved and building herself a home (before Noah turned out to be a serial killer). And now, jealous of Forrest Long, of all people, for getting to be with Alex in a way Michael had not been in all the years they'd been in love. 

"This is about me and Forrest, isn't it?" Even though it was phrased as one, Michael knew it wasn't a question. 

He didn't answer. Ashamed and guilty and relieved that Alex got it without him having to say it. 

Alex sighed. "I watched you be with Maria for a lot longer, you know," he told him mildly, tone almost teasing. 

Michael found himself silent again, because yeah, Alex had watched him be with Maria for nearly a year and had been gracious about it. He had been supportive, even, according to Maria. Michael wanted to do the same, had been trying for a little less than a month with varying degrees of success. 

He didn't know how Alex could stand it. 

"It's not about you and Forrest." One last ditch effort to be the friend and not the helpless fool in love. 

It didn't work. Of course it didn't work. 

Alex raised his eyebrows.  "Did you really think that would work?"

Michael shrugged. "Figured I had to try."

Alex shifted from his crouch to sit beside Michael, and their shoulders brushed. The touch sent shivers down his spine and he had to fight the instinct to lean closer. Damn, but he missed the closeness, the comfort of it. "Well, now that you have, are you ready to tell me why you're here on your own instead of being inside with all of us?"

"Is it me?" He found himself asking. He sounded like a small child and found himself looking down to avoid looking at Alex. 

He felt Alex stiffen beside him And immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't, though. After a few seconds of silence, Alex relaxed and let out a slow breath. "Something that you never managed to understand, Michael, was that at no point in the past eleven years was I ever ashamed of you. It was never about you. It was my father, it was the military, it was me. But it was never you. That is, until you chose to do something illegal on our first date."

Michael looked up at the sky and shook his head as they both laughed softly. He marveled at how far they had come, that they could laugh about something that had torn them apart two years ago. 

Once their laughter died down, Alex spoke again. "You have to understand that my father made me live in fear for a really, really long time. He- I was thirteen when I figured out I was gay, and twelve when he did. From that moment on, I lived in constant fear of being myself. The only time I wasn't aftlraid was with you. And we both know how that turned out."

It hurt to hear, because Alex didn't deserve any of it, but knowing that he had somehow helped, that Alex wasn't ashamed of him, was a balm on a gaping wound that had been bleeding for a long time. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Alex smiled, reassuring. "Now get up, suck it up and come inside." Though outwardly his demeanor was light, Michael could tell this was a test. He'd never failed a test in his life and he was damned if he was going to start now. 

He got up, followed Alex inside and sucked it up.

.................

"Guerin!" 

Michael grinned automatically and spun around to greet Alex. To his surprise, he wasn't alone. The man with him was just a little shorter, but was built like a tank. Alex clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hi."

Alex gestured at the man. "This is Bradley Williams, a buddy of mine."

"Hey, man," Michael took over the introduction. "Michael Guerin. Nice-" he trailed off as the man's eyes widened and his head spun around to look at Alex with a speed that had him wondering how his head was still attached. "-to meet you?" He looked between the two men. The man was grinning ear to ear now, while Alex was glaring daggers at him. "Am I missing something here?"

"Yes," Bradley said.

"No," Alex countered, in a way that left no room for argument.

Michael was surprised to see the man back off immediately and wondered exactly how the two had met. It must have been the air force, but it wouldn't explain the evident closeness. The two seemed like brothers.

"Listen, his car is a mess. But h's stubborn and won't admit he can't fix it. Can you take a look at it and tell him he needs to have a professional fix it?" The last part, though addressed to him, was said pointedly in Bradley's direction. 

"Sure thing."

The car was a mess. Alex took too much pleasure in being right and processed to give Bradley shit the second Michael confirmed it. Seeing Alex like this, happy and carefree, never failed to make Michael's heart swell with fondness for him. It was seriously a problem.

About fifteen minutes later, Alex got a call and stepped away from them. "You know, this is gonna take a while, so you can just go and I'll give you or Alex a call when it's ready."

"Nah," he said with forced casualness. "I'm good here. Plus, he's probably gonna go back to the base- yup, there's that look." When Bradley pointed the bottle in Alex's direction, Michael's eyes followed and noticed the serious look on his face.

"I gotta go back to the base," he told them, putting the phone in his back pocket. "Let me drive you to the house?"

Bradley leaned back in his chair. "I'm good here, cap; you go ahead."

They locked eyes and after a few seconds, Alex nodded, giving him a wry smile. Michael felt like an outsider as they seemed to have an entire conversation without saying a thing.

Once Alex was gone, the other man turned to him. "Forgive my bluntness, but why the hell aren't you two together?"

Michael's head whipped around and he stared at the man, pissed off and in awe in equal measures. Had he managed to figure out Michael was in love with Alex from spending twenty minutes with them? "What?" He spluttered.

Bradley shook his head. "He told me about you. The way-"

Michael's whole world did a somersault around its axis. "He- he talked about me?"

The older man's forehead crinkled in a frown, but then his features softened and he let out a huff of a breath that could have been a laugh. "Yes, he talked about you. Not much, mind you. He kept a lot of things close to the vest back then, still does, but- everyone in our unit kinda knew there was someone special for him back home, way before he told me." 

Someone special. At a time where he'd thought of himself as an afterthought, a dirty secret, in Alex's life, the people closest to him at the time had thought he was someone special. 

"Every time he talked to you on the phone, he'd be settled, more- alive, I guess- for the next couple of days. Sometimes, I'd even catch him on the phone with you and he'd have this look on his face and I just knew."

"Knew what?" Michael managed to say, heart in his throat. 

"That he loved you. And from what I've seen, that hasn't changed, has it?" 

A part of Michael wanted to snap at him and tell him to mind his own business. Another part wanted to get down on his knees and beg him to tell him more. 

"What did he say about me?" He found himself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

"That you're smart. Kind. That he- he was bleeding out in my arms and all he could talk about was you." Bradley sucked in a harsh breath, and Michael envied his ability to do that, because couldn't draw a single breath. "He was dying, and all he wanted was for you to know; practically begged me to be the one to tell you."

"That he loved me?" Michael's voice cracked, but he ignored it, eyes on the other man. 

"That he'd died, Michael. He didn't want you to keep guessing, I think." Bradley looked him straight in the eye and Michael saw the tears that had gathered there. It made Michael feel better about the tears in his own eyes. 

"If something does happen to you, half the town will know before I do and that's because no one would even think to tell me." He remembered saying on the last phone call they'd had, nearly four years ago. 

He'd been angry when he'd said that; angry and afraid. The idea that his words had stayed with Alex, that he'd been thinking about him when he'd been bleeding, dying, broke his heart and mended it in the same breath. Not for the first time, he ached for him, for them, for everything they could have been and everything they could have had. 

Michael stopped working on the car and sat down heavily in the chair next to him, and Bradley kindly offered him the rest of his beer, eyes forward, probably to give Michael the opportunity to breakdown in peace. But Michael didn't fall apart, he just drank the beer and then stood up to finish the work, not saying a word even when Bradley stood up and walked closer. 

"I met Forrest yesterday. Between you and me? I'm rooting for you," he told him with a smirk, patting his shoulder twice before he left, leaving a stunned Michael in his wake.

......

It took two days for Michael to gather up the courage to talk to Alex. When he reached his house, he found him on a lawn chair, headphones in and his head bopping to the beat of a song only he knew. Michael stopped to stare at him, and really, it was ridiculous how far he was gone for the man that he was staring at the back of his head like a lovesick fool. 

He took a few steps closer, until he was beside him and when Alex looked up and smiled at him, Michael smiled back automatically. "Writing another song about me?" He asked, teasing.

"No," Alex told him with a laugh. "I think that was a one time thing."

His disappointment must have showed on his face because Alex shook his head. "Not many people have a song written about them, you know, you shouldn't get greedy," he chided and stood up. 

He didn't know what made him do it; maybe it was Bradley's words ringing in his ears- he was bleeding out in my arms and all he cared about was you. He wanted you to know; that he'd died.- but the second he was on his feet, Michael pulled him into his arms. When Alex didn't push him away; when he pulled him in tighter instead, Michael buried his nose in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder and took in a lungful of air. 

"Are you okay?"

Michael nodded against his neck and Alex's arms tightened around him. He tried desperately to think of something to say, tried to pull away, but found that he couldn't. 

"Is this about your talk with Bradley?"

Michael nodded again and buried himself further in Alex's arms.

Alex didn't seem to mind.

They stood like that for longer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to want to let go, so they didn't. Until, eventually, they had to. 

"Want to come inside for a beer?" He asked him gently.

Michael wanted more than that. Michael Wanted to hold him until the image of him, bleeding out in Bradley's arms while Michael was blissfully unaware, stopped haunting him in his dreams. He wanted to ask him to sing him the song again, just to hear the rest of it, to be able to appreciate it, to have a reminder that Alex hadn't forgotten about him. Michael wanted to talk to him about the mistakes they'd made and the future they could still have together. But, like he had a month ago, he knew it still wasn't their time.

So he settled for accepting the beer. And being Alex's friend. He owed it to the both of them to try. And he owed it to Alex to back off and let him be happy with someone else since that was what he wanted.

"Yeah." He smiled. "Yeah, I'd love a beer."