#the icon he was the sweat sweat the I’m truly a man of the world etc etc

[featherandferns]

daylight - five

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 5 of the daylight series | read part 4 here

content warnings: sexual content (f receiving); alcohol

word count: 3k.

blurb: after avoiding JJ for a week, the two of you end up trapped together in the Chateau during a storm.

Whilst Mimsy’s advice was golden, you promptly ignored it. Avoided JJ like the plague. Bailed on nearly every Pogue meeting: met with the group one-on-one instead. He’d texted you a few times, checking if you were okay, asking if you were sick, offering to come around, apologising for the other night. You rarely replied, and if you did they were simple answers that left no room for further questions. I’m fine. Not sick, don’t worry. Just been busy. It's all good, I forgot all about it! 

But you hadn’t. 

That one fleeting touch of JJ’s hand on your chest had replayed in your mind like you were some budding virgin who had never been touched by another human before in your life. It was truly pathetic. The porn that got your body burning was the thing that a nun would gloss over without pause. You loathe yourself. 

It’s stupid, really. You’d decided that maybe Mimsy was right. Maybe it was time to stop punishing yourself for Tyler, for the damage he inflicted. Maybe it was time to remember that all people are different people, and the acts of one careless man doesn’t equal the acts of another. But then you thought about it, really thought about it, and the thought of being so open like that with another person terrified you. Made you sick. Love was bad but heartbreak was worse, and you had a habit of falling hard and fast. If JJ wanted casual, you couldn’t do that. You felt too much for him already. Sleeping with him would only make it worse. But if JJ wanted serious, you couldn’t do that either. And so, you were at a stalemate. 

“Can’t I just give you it tomorrow?” you ask Kiara over the phone. 

“No! Cause you’ll quote-unquote ‘forget’ and go another week with it!” 

“It’s a good camera!”

“Yes, that’s why I want it back,” Kiara laughs. 

Sighing, you smile. “Fine. I’ll drop it at the Chateau, though. That hurricane’s getting close and I don’t wanna get caught out near Figure Eight.”

“Alright, that works for me,” Kie agrees. “You talk to JJ yet?”

“Sure,” you lie. 

She sighs. “What is going on with you two? I know he can be a dumbass; did he yell at you or something?”

After knowing JJ for close to two months, you had seen his temper. It was short and explosive, and at times, scary. But he came down regretful for the things he did and said, and you’d learnt just like the others to understand it. 

“No, he didn’t yell. It’s nothing. We’re fine, really,” you tell her. 

Kie hums and you know she isn’t convinced. Grabbing your shoes, you say, “look, I’ll head to the Chateau now before the storm hits and leave your camera for you.”

“Icon. Thank you!”

“Talk soon,” you say before hanging up.

With Kie’s camera in your trademark backpack, you head downstairs. Leaving a note on the kitchen for your parents and pulling a thin raincoat over your sweats and crop-tee, you penny board to the Chateau. The journey is familiar now, the same way heading to and from the local store in Vancouver was less than a year ago. As you walk up, you find the Twinkie missing. 

“John B? You home?” you call as you pass through the door. Nobody answers.

You head to the table and place Kiara’s camera down, then send a photo to her as proof. Before you make the journey back home, errand now complete, you use the bathroom and raid the cupboard for a snack. As you pull back the wrapper on a month-out-of-date clif bar, the sky grumbles menacingly. You stare up at the ceiling when it does as if it might be to blame. Suddenly, everything is dark. Grey clouds loom overhead and cast the world in gloom. More thunder follows, and the distant flash that you catch through the window hints of lightning. You hadn’t managed to skip the storm.

“Shit.”

Through the tantrum of nature, the high-pitched humming of a motor passes through. You venture to the front door of the Chateau, wondering whether John B has come back. When JJ rounds the corner, your stomach drops like a black bear has wandered into sight. The rain has started now, pelting hard and heavy pellets, and JJ cusses as he rushes up the steps. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he finally looks up, now in the Chateau.  

“Jesus Christ!”

“Sorry.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he repeats, perhaps a little dramatic. 

You roll your eyes and tug your raincoat off over your head. It’s not like you’re going anywhere anytime soon: mother nature had decided so. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” JJ asks, frowning at you. 

You shrug. “At home.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh, how dumb of me,” JJ sarcastically mumbles. You head into the kitchen for a soda and JJ is hot on your trail. “I’ve been hitting you up for like a week and you’ve been ignoring me.”

“I replied to you.”

“Yeah with like two word responses. I’ve heard dogs talk more,” JJ fires back.

Once your hand is safely removed from the fridge, JJ slams it shut. It catches your attention; forces you to look up at his face. “It’s about what happened in the van, isn’t it?”

“JJ, grow up,” you say. 

“That’s not a no.”

“Because it’s a stupid question,” you reply. “I’m not twelve years old, JJ.”

“Don’t need to tell me that,” he mumbles. You pass him by, heading for the sofa whilst JJ stands in the kitchen and stares at you. “So that’s that?”

“I guess,” you say with a shrug, sipping your soda. 

He stares some more and then scoffs. You know he’s annoyed. His jaw clenches and he glances off to the hallway of the cabin. You take his distraction to remind yourself of his body. Of how fucking gorgeous he is. 

“What? What’s wrong?” you can’t help but ask. 

JJ shakes his head. He purses his lips, calms himself, and looks to you. “You hurt my feelings.”

On the surface, it sounds like an immature statement. The sort of thing a child would say to another on the playing field, after shunning them out of an imaginary game. But not now, not here. You knew more than most how much hurt feelings can wound. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, and you hope it sounds as genuine as it is. 

JJ contemplates before nodding. He heads over to you and sits beside you on the sofa. Kicks his feet up on a dining chair as he reclines into the sofa. 

“Do you forgive me?”

“I will if you give me a sip of your drink,” he mumbles. You hand him the can and watch him begin to drink. Your face contorts with horror as JJ backwashes into the can, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“JJ! Ew!” 

He splutters a laugh as you snatch your drink back. It’s spoiled now. You glare at him and ditch it on the floor. Smack his shoulder jovially.

“Dumbass.”

The storm reigns on and for a while the two of you sit side by side listening to its petrifying symphony. Lightning flashes through the windows and illuminates the cabin for a fraction of a second, time and time again. It feels nice being in JJ’s company again. He calms you somehow, even in silence. Maybe it’s his smell, but if you admit that, you may sound a little insane or creepy. But the calm is only momentary. Soon you’re losing yourself to your thoughts, given too much freedom with the quiet. Thoughts of him. Thoughts which turn to glances, which turn to longing and yearning and…

“Wanna play a board game?” you blurt out. 

JJ quirks a brow at you, hitting his vape. “Sure. What game?”

You get up and head to the rickety wooden shelves, inspecting the games John B has. Most look thrifted. Jenga, Twister, Monopoly…

“Trivial Pursuit?”

JJ sniggers. “I don’t think either of us are smart enough for Trivial Pursuit.”

A hand slowly rises to your chest in mock offence. “Ouch.”

You slide the game out as JJ gets up and transforms the sofa into a pullout. The power is holding up good enough so far, in the summer storm turned hurricane. Taking a blanket, you cosy up on the couch and set up the game. JJ takes the time to retrieve a beer. You each take a game piece and fall into the game. It only takes about five rounds for JJ to be proven right: trivia was neither of your strong suits. 

You grab a card from the pile, reading out the trivia question. “What distance is the earth to the sun?”

JJ’s face contorts in bewilderment. “What kind of dumbass question is that?”

“A trivia one,” you say, watching him with a smile.

“I don’t fucking know. A hundred?”

“A hundred what?”

“Miles?”

You blink at him. “A hundred miles? From our planet to a huge ball of gas?”

“Who’s actually measured it, that’s what I want to know,” JJ says.

“Scientists.”

“But like how?”

“I don’t know,” you laugh, leaning back on the sofa. “With science, I guess. Answer the question.”

“‘With science’. ‘With science’?”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t know I was in the presence of a genius,” JJ announces.

You roll your eyes and prod him with your toe through your blanket, careful not to knock over the pile of trivia cards. “Answer!”

“This game is dumb. Why couldn’t we just play strip poker?”

“Jesus Christ – answer the question!”

“I did! One-hundred miles!”

“That’s such a dumb guess!” you laugh, placing the card at the bottom of the pile.

“Was it right?”

“No!”

By now you’re in hysterics, shaking your head. JJ’s watching you, sniggering away. He takes another swig of his beer and offers the bottle to you. You have a sip. JJ’s still watching you. Swallowing, you quirk a brow. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what is it? Is there something on my face?”

“No, no,” JJ says, stopping your wiping of your cheeks. “You’re just really fucking pretty.”

Your body chills like a winter breeze hit. Smiling bashfully, you glance down. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Course,” JJ replies. He takes the bottle back gently and has another sip. Clearing his throat, he grabs another trivia card. “Alright, uh, what we got here? Who wrote the novel ‘Pride and Prejudice’?”

“Jane Austen,” you reply. 

“Yep,” he says, returning the card to the pile.

And just like that, the moment has passed, and you’re only slightly surprised to realise how much you wished it hadn’t. 

You wordlessly take another ‘cheese piece’ for your counter. JJ takes the dice and rolls and as you wait for them to land, everything suddenly goes pitch black. You let out a screech as it does. 

“Oh shit,” you hear JJ say. 

“What happened?” you ask, though the answer is obvious. 

“Power went out,” JJ says. “Shit.”

You feel the pull out move and you flail a hand out, grabbing his t-shirt with your fist. “Don’t go.”

“I’m just gonna try and find some candles or a flashlight or something.”

“Wait, can you just…Can you stay until my eyes adjust, at least?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, course.”

JJ settles back into his spot. There’s the clink of his beer bottle carefully finding place on the floor. His hand gently pats around before landing on your leg. 

“You’re shaking.”

“I don’t like the dark,” you tell him. You’re waiting for him to laugh but he doesn’t. Instead, he coaxes you closer to him. 

“Come here.”

You comply. Shuffle until you can feel JJ’s body pressed against yours. You slowly, nervously lower your head onto his upper chest. The sensation of his chest rising and falling evenly calms your panic. You’d never grown out of your fear of the dark. It was stupid, something Tyler used to tease you for, but you couldn’t help it. Even still, you slept with some form of nightlight. JJ’s fingers begin to stroke the back of your hand. And just as his accidentally grope of your tit had, his barely-there touch turns you on. 

But this time you don’t flinch away. Don’t panic and startle and spiral. 

Maybe it’s the black out serving as some sort of safety net, or the storm making you feel disconnected from the world, or maybe just the effect of JJ in general, but you find yourself moving to face him. At least, what you assume is him. Eyes slowly adjusting, you can make out the vague silhouette of his face. Lord knows you’ve stared at him enough times to make good guess work of where his lips are. You lean forward so slow, you can convince yourself you’re not at all.

Your lips press against his lower lip tentatively. Testing the waters.

This close, you can hear when JJ’s breath catches in his throat.

You wait for JJ's next move.

JJ’s hand lands on the back of your head, returning your lips to his frantically. It’s messy and sloppy as the two of you kiss. Teeth and lips and hands, which caress down your body, grabbing greedily at your skin, landing on your ass to lift you into his lap. He’s getting harder and harder with each kiss, each brush of your tongues. You gasp a moan against his lips. Leaning back for air, swishing your hair from off your face and shoulders, you finally get to see how it feels to have your hands around his neck. Plant your fingers there, one by one,. JJ’s panting, his hands restlessly tracing your body. Reconnecting your lips with his, he mumbles against them. One word.

“Yes.”

His grip is tenderly mean in your hair as he pries you away to only plant kisses down your neck. Maybe he has a fascination with yours just as you do with his…JJ’s cold hands thrill your body as they slip under your shirt. Blunt finger nails rake soothingly against your back, juxtaposing the assault on your throat that has you whining and gasping. Fuck, you forgot how good this is. How good it feels to have another person pressed up against you. Touching you. You instinctively rock against his crotch. JJ groans, head dropping onto your shoulder. His fingernails press harder and it makes you grin. Leaning down to his earlobe, you kitten lick the skin just below. You feel him shudder under you. You tease your teeth against the lobe before gently catching it between your teeth. JJ lets out a moan. 

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear. 

“Yes,” he mumbles. You let out a gasp when he tugs at your hair once more, pulling you to face him. Now you can make out his eyes. They’re hooded. Crinkled like they do when he smiles. “You like being in control or something?”

“Or something…” you reply, finding your own smile. 

“Just like I said,” JJ says, eyes flitting down to your lips. “Exactly my type.”

His hands slide down from your ass to the back of your quads, and he practically tosses you onto your back. You land just shy of the game board. Can hear the cards and game pieces scatter. JJ unconcernedly brushes it away, making the two of you laugh, breathless. Then his lips are back on yours, figure looming over you, and you let your hands venture up along his body. His gaping t-shirt grants you expanse of his skin. It’s soft under your touch, ripples from it, rises and falls with his breathes. JJ pushes your shirt up and kisses down your sternum, down your chest, towards your crotch. And now, without him desperately close, despite his attention to your body, you feel lost. In the pitch black, you can confuse JJ with someone else. 

Tyler. 

No, no, it’s not. It’s JJ. You can smell his cologne. Feel the cool metal of his rings against your burning skin. Yes, JJ. 

“JayJ?” you mumble, fingers tethering into his hair. 

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin. Yes, it’s JJ. His fingers hook into the band of your sweats and he lowers them down your legs. Presses wet, open mouthed kisses to the newly revealed skin that you’d caught him staring at too many times to count. 

And you should be enjoying it. Should be turned on beyond belief, desperate for his touch or his mouth or something on your aching cunt. But instead you’re just trying to stay present. Drilling it into your head that it is him, that it is JJ, that this is different. It makes no sense. Tyler never abused you. Never too advantage of you. Or did he? Did he–

No, not Tyler. JJ. The same JJ who’s mumbling things against your thigh, dragging your panties down your legs. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…”

But when he teases a finger to your folds, you’re dry. JJ pauses. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum. Now your brain is busy with panic. He’s been turning you on like crazy so why the fuck is your body not doing what it’s supposed to do? Embarrassment stings your eyes. This has never happened before. Never. JJ continues to ease his finger up and down but to no avail. He shifts up your body, kissing delicately at your neck.  

“Are you…not into this or?” JJ tentatively asks. 

“No, I am, I just–” You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh. Gently pushing JJ off you, you shift to sit up, hiding your burning face in your hands despite the black out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why.”

“It’s alright. Hey, no, it’s alright, don’t worry,” JJ reassures.

As you tug your shirt down, JJ climbs off the pull-out. You hear his footsteps depart. You busy yourself with pulling your sweatpants back up. A flashlight guides JJ’s return. You squint when he shines it directly in your face. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, flicking it back down to the floor. He steps over the mess of the board game and joins you on the sofa. Passes you his half drunk bottle of beer and the alcohol helps wash away the initial sting of embarrassment. In the shadow of his flashlight, you still see his boner through his sweatpants and you instantly feel guilty for accidentally blue-balling him. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. 

“Don’t apologise,” JJ chuckles. He takes the beer back when you offer it to him. Has a swig. 

“S’just embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“Nah. Guess it’s just like ED for a guy,” JJ thinks aloud. 

“Oh, and ED isn’t embarrassing?” you half-heartedly joke. 

JJ chuckles. “Alright, fair point. But you don’t gotta be embarrassed with me. It’s cool.”

You nod. The two of you sit there in the pitch-black as the storm billows on outside. You look out the window. The wind throws twigs and sticks and leaves around; you can see it through the porch netting. 

“Did I ever tell you about when I lost my virginity?” JJ asks. 

You snort and look to him. “Yeah, funny enough, that never came up in any of our conversations.”

JJ smiles, amused. “Fair point.”

He relaxes against the back of the sofa and you decide to join him, settling your head against his chest. One of his hands loops around your body, fingers stroking your thigh over your sweatpants soothingly. 

“I was fourteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“I was an early bloomer, I guess,” JJ replies, making you chuckle quietly. “There was this smokin’ Toron visiting the island. I mean, not as hot as you, but a close second - I’m not gonna lie. Way better than what my thirteen-year-old wet dreams cooked up.”

“Gross,” you cringe, scrunching up your nose. 

“So, I started talking to her and she asked if I had...and I hadn’t, and neither had she and…Yeah. And then, when it came down to it, and we were macking and stuff, I couldn’t get it up.”

You shift to look up to him, lips apart. “Wait, really?”

“I’m dead serious,” JJ chuckles. “I was flippin’ out cause I’d never had a problem with it before.”

“What happened? Did you guys end up calling it off or…”

“Well,” JJ says, scratching the back of his neck, “the problem seemed to go away after she showed me her tits but–”

“Ah. That makes sense,” you snigger. 

“But the point is, it happens to all of us,” JJ tells you. “So, you don’t gotta be embarrassed.”

“Well, thanks,” you hum. Snuggling your head against his shirt, your eyes slip shut. The madness of the storm was strangely soothing. “I’m sorry for disappearing, JayJ.”

“It’s alright,” JJ says quietly. “I do it too, sometimes. When I need to think or it gets too much.”

The two of you understand one another. Guarded behind self-built walls of which only the other seemed to have the sledgehammer for. It's something you want to talk about more but with your eyes closed, in the comfort of JJ’s hold, you find yourself drifting away into sleep.  

read part six here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200

[grimsonandclover]

inspired by @artdcnaldson

He Might Not Be the Best, But He Beat the Best.

My chat with Patrick Zweig, the man rumored to be responsible for tennis player Art Donaldson's sudden retirement. There's more to the story than meets the eye, though. By Grimson Clover PUBLISHED: NOV 13, 2019

Patrick Zweig, a man of both few and many words. He’s shaking my hand eagerly as we meet at a familiar spot for him: the same tennis court he played on two months ago against the legendary Art Donaldson.

We’re in New Rochelle, and if you’ve never heard of it, don’t worry because I hadn’t either (it’s a suburb in New York City, in case you were wondering). We sit on fold-out chairs by the net– the very one Art Donaldson soared over at that now iconic match, Patrick stunned with arms wide open and catching him. We all gasped, right?

Despite the steadily declining temperatures, it is November in New York, Patrick Zweig presents himself before me in a pair of plaid, red and gray, knee-length shorts to pair with a black quarter-zip sweater. An interesting combination I point out to him, and he gives me a good and friendly laugh. “My closet is ninety percent shorts, five percent jeans, five percent sweats.”

Clover Grimson Sweater from The Gap; shorts from Old Navy; shoes by New Balance.

“No sponsors? Most athletes I talk with are covered head to toe in logos like walking billboards.” Surely enough, his clothes are bare of any obnoxious or out-of-place brand insignia. He gives me another good chuckle and a shake of his head, and I’ve never felt better about myself. “No, no. I used to– earlier in my career– have a few sometimes. Not nowadays though, haven't gotten any emails yet!”

Some readers may be wondering why I’m sitting here today with this seemingly random tennis player. Though he’s undoubtedly skilled, and won the Phil’s Tire Town challenger against tennis god and heartthrob Art Donaldson (occasionally referred to as Mr. Tashi Duncan, his wife and coach, by some fans), he’s also only ranked 227th in the world compared to Donaldson’s impressive place at 13th. They’re worlds apart, and yet Patrick won and Art announced his retirement to the world last week.

“It’s not so shocking.” Patrick reasons to me, one well-loved New Balance sneaker resting on top of the other as he gets comfortable in his chair. “The retirement, I mean.” He adds quickly with a sly smirk, and I begin to wonder if that’s really all he meant. I push him to elaborate, and that smirk of his grows even wider. He doesn’t want to explain further, but he lets me know that he knew it was coming. Something about him knowing Art like that.

He asks if I smoke (I don't) as he pulls a pack of blue Camels. Athletes are meant to treat their bodies like sacred temples, but he’s far from the first I’ve met who shared his vice.

Initially, I was trying to interview the current topic of our conversation. Unfortunately for me, my email was simply replied to with: “Thank you for the invite, but Art and Tashi Donaldson are declining any press and interviews at the moment as they focus on their family.” When I turned to his opponent, I got a response almost right away. Some might think in an act of desperation or want for attention, and to trash talk the man he beat, but I don’t get that impression when I speak with Patrick. He’s almost hesitant to speak about Art, only giving away bits and crumbs of info for my journalistic fingers to scramble and grasp at. Patrick tells me how they went to the same tennis academy as kids, a boarding school of sorts. “Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy,” he says with an air of nostalgia. "It's in Florida, we were roommates."

Perhaps it's because I'm personally not a tennis mega-fan, but I was unaware that the two knew each other previously, let alone went that far back. I ask him what it was like, and he tells me stories of late-night pranks amongst the boys' dorms, first crushes and first injuries, and intense coaches. "It was great, truly. I'd never trade those years for anything." Patrick concludes along with his cigarette. "Art was a little dork back in those days, but you'd never be able to tell looking at him now." He confesses to me with a chuckle, and he's right-- you wouldn't. I struggle to picture the man before me any bit dorkish, either. When I ask him if he knew Tashi Donaldson (née Duncan), a former tennis star before a terrible knee injury in 2007 and now renowned coach that players kill for a chance to be in the same room as, as well, and he shrugs. "I've talked to her once or twice."

He refuses to talk about her further than that, and we move on to the match itself. From what I know, Art Donaldson was a wildcard entry coming in last minute. "I had no clue he was gonna be there. Chance encounter, I guess." Patrick tells me as we walk around the court and surrounding lawn. He's lit a second cigarette and it dangles from his lips as he speaks. I'm about to ask him about how it felt to suddenly find out he was going to compete against a U.S. Open winner at a place like Phil's Tiretown, but he was already ahead of me. "When I found out, which was the morning before, I was a little shocked. Not really the kind of thing you'd expect a guy like him to be at."

For good reason. Art has been to Wimbledon, won a Juniors title at the US Open in 2006 (With Patrick, actually. They were doubles partners), and later again in 2017. He's rumored to have a room just for his countless trophies, though that's a rumor his wife dispelled in an Architectural Digest video last year. When asked why he joined the challenger, Art Donaldson simply stated he needed the confidence. Fan theories online suggest this lack of confidence and losing the challenger led to his retirement announcement, though no official comment has been made about why.

I ask Patrick about his plans regarding his career. He's young, only thirty-one, but that's retirement age in tennis. He stops under a tree, and with the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves onto his face, I almost forget he's not actually a male model. "I'm trying to find a good coach, and I think I've found one. I don't plan on retiring until they stop letting me onto the court."

[heretowritesstuff]

Hey everyone

So this is my first bit of writing on here

I know it's definitely not the best but I hope you all enjoy it. I felt we needed a bit more jeremy Allen white content on here you know :)

No warnings at all

Just setting a scene for hopefully a good story

______________

Chapter 1 the beginning

"Okay, that’s great. And cut!" Charlotte yells at the crew

"Hey Andy, that was great?"

The actor breathed a sigh of relief as she jogged toward the iconic actor who had been struggling to get the scene and finally nailed it

Charlotte has been working as a director for years.

She started as a child in some local community theatre pieces and found out that she loved the camera just as much. As much as she had tried to be in front of it her insecurities got the best of her. And through that, she discovered the magical world behind the scenes.

“Thanks, char! Do you need anything else? I hope that take works I was feeling it and felt like I knew- “

“Andrew! That was amazing, perfect shot, perfect take. You were perfect!”

The amazing spider man actor smiled and slightly blushed at your compliments

“It’s a great film, bound to get you nominated with the academy-“

“Andy Andy Andy… let’s not stress me out just yet let’s just get the movie done”

As Andrew had opened his mouth to say something

She heard her name being called in the distance

Her assistant is taking a quick walk towards her while chatting away on a call

Charlotte excused herself from her cast and stepped aside with her long-term friend and new assistant Mia.

Mia rushed toward her slightly out of breath

“Char, I have your agent on the line who in turn has a casting agent from Variety on the line and they would like to book you for an exclusive next Friday”

“Oh my god yeah of course sure, I’ll check the schedules but we should be all set”

Mia nodded and rambled back into the phone line, she glanced up as Charlotte asked

“What interview is it?”

“Actors on Actors,” Mia said quickly

“But I’m not an act-“

Mia got distracted by another voice on the line and mouthed her a quick sorry

MEANWHILE IN NEW YORK

Everyone is cheering, champagne is flowing while laughs are being shared. They had wrapped season 2 of the bear and everyone was a mix of happy, sad, and relieved

It's funny how it may have been a fake kitchen but the tensions were still so real.

Jeremy was sitting in the embrace of his costar Ebon Moss-Bachrach, laughing at some embarrassing set story when he glanced around at the set of the beef which they had called home for almost 3 years.

He was born and raised in New York but truly made a life in Los Angeles. When you spend 11 years on a project they become family. And He had created a family in many ways and no matter how much fun he had he can't help but feel a bit homesick

“Hey Jer, you doing okay?” ayo asked the blue-eyed boy who was staring into the distance

Jeremy shook his head lightly, getting the thoughts to lose, smiled at her, and said “Yeah I'm great, excited to finally get some damn sleep and order takeout for a while”

The cast laughed followed by Liza saying “oh hell yes I am not going near my stove for at least a month”

They all laughed at this, agreeing that even a microwave meal would be better than working on a stovetop for a while

Just then Jeremy's phone rang

He grabbed it hoping to see a familiar name on the screen, he sighed seeing his manager's name.

He excused himself and went to answer it

“Hey Mark what's up?”

He says leaning against the brick wall of the building, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair. He's not sure if it's hairspray, sweat, or just his hair at this point

“Jeremy! How's my guy doing? Congratulations on season 2. Listen. I have an offer for you. Nothing heavy just an interview for Variety”

“Um Mark that sounds great it’s just, I dunno man I have some things to sort out and “

“J, I know. Listen I don’t need a confirmation right now. Go home, lemme me know in like 2 days and I can book it. If not we grab the next one okay”

“Yeah okay”

After a bit of casual small talk, they say their goodbyes and hang up

Jeremy looks at his phone to see yet another news headliner, some cryptic messages, and a few check-ins. He rubbed his forehead wondering where everything had gone so wrong. How did he get here, something was missing. And it wasn’t the result of what had just happened. That would have been obvious

After he returned and enjoyed a few hours with his cast, he decided fuck it. Not much waiting for him back home. And messages Mark

Jeremy

: Hey bro, I’ll do the interview. When is it?

Mark

: are you sure man? It is next Friday with variety. It’s one of the actor on actors interviews

Jeremy

: Yeah that’s great

Can you find out who it’s gonna be with?

Mark

: I’ll work on it

Jeremy smiled at the reply and was content with this choice

Something about this decision just felt right

_____________

Thank you so much for reading

Lemme know if you would like a part 2

[generous1ty]

Gundham, Nagito and Hajime with a s/o that has a duck army? (A surprisingly strong duck army) they say they’re gonna take over the world with it-

Also they probably throw bread crumbs on Kazuichi so the ducks attack him.

hihi!

i really love this prompt, not only because it’s so random, but because i love ducks and having a strong duck army sounds amazing. i suppose we’re the Ultimate Duck Army General? hahahsjjskds

don’t bully Kaz too much pls--

also, you didn't specify whether you wanted headcanons or drabbles, so i did drabbles for them! hope you don't mind. :)

lots of love! <3

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Gundham, Nagito and Hajime reacting to their S/O who’s a General of a strong Duck Army!

genre: fluff warnings: none besides...bullying Kazuichi... </3

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Gundham Tanaka (0.6k words)

to say that this day was like any other day would be undermining the situation at hand.

currently, unbeknownst to Gundham Tanaka, the Forbidden One, you had been holding an army of your own and kept it hidden from him! an army of ducks, at that!

it was so surprising that it had baffled the man from his ice cold persona to his power to call his Four Dark Devas.

i mean, a mere mortal has the ability to handle an army of ducks?! absurd!

you must be... more reliable than he thought. surely you were of the same caliber as him. after all, not just anyone can become a general of an army. a duck army especially.

"[Y/n]... have you conquered the demon that speaks to the ducks?! is that why you have claimed such immense power over armies and armies of such strong opponents?!" his voice rattled your ears as you simply smirked, crossing your arms in wait for his speech to be done.

"Gundham, the Forbidden One," you called his name, grabbing his own attention as a cold bead of sweat fell down his face, "I have been sustained to years and years of training to be able to master the art of creating this massive duck army!"

while you had a bag of crumbs still left in your hands, you decided you'd enjoy yourself a bit.

"with this army, i will take over the world! everyone will know my name as [Y/n], God(dess) of the Flying Creatures!" you boasted, as Gundham let out a strained noise.

"you surely have enough power to defeat me, [Y/n], God(dess) of the Flying Creatures. HOWEVER! Gundham, the Forbidden One must stop you in your tracks! To let a mere mortal wander with such power is blasphemy! so i shall put a stop to it,"

you readied your bag of crumbs, your hands already inside of the paper before he could even cast a spell or draw a summoning circle. more so, before he could start anything, you had already throws the crumbs at him, yelling the iconic line almost anyone wants to say,

"ATTACK!!"

. . . .

he... had lost..?

surrounded by calm ducks that had once been feral to him, Gundham was laying on his back. the floor had never felt so cold...

"to think... i would lose to such as the likes of you..." he let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes fluttering shut, "i guess this shall be the end of Gundham, the Forbidden One, right?"

"Gundham," your voice was strong and stern, enough to shake his own eyes open once more despite his quick and shameful defeat, "your purpose is not to defeat me, but to befriend me in defeating the Demon King of hell, and to restore peace across the lands."

your outstretched your hand, waiting for him to accept the help off on his back, "so befriend me, and i shall help you conquer the demon realm."

you were a worthy opponent indeed... to defeat him and then accept him, no wonder you were leading such an amazing duck army. truly, you were a leader; someone worth following.

his hand had fallen into yours, mesmerized from your skillful nature.

what had you done? had you cast a spell on him? a spell that made his heart pick up speed, or make his face light on fire?

despite this, he could not utter a word. he simply hid behind his scarf, admiring you from the distance you had placed.

"now, let's go bully Kaz," you suggested, his hand still in yours as you both travelled away to faraway lands to throw breadcrumbs and magic spells at Kazuichi Souda.

<3

Nagito Komaeda (0.5k words)

Nagito's hands were filled with breadcrumbs and his body flocked with different kind of aquatic birds.

of course, it was just his luck to be hindered when something lucky happened to him. that was just the cycle. even so, he smiled at the ducks gently pecking at his hand for the bread. the ducks were so cute, and full of a beautiful kind of hope.

before this, he had to deliver some bags of bread crumbs to you. he didn't ask why, nor did he need to. he was just happy you trusted and depended on him to even ask for a simple favor from him!

but sadly, on the way to you he was attacked by a large group of ducks. now, with no way out but to feed the ducks, he stay sitting on the ground, feeding the ducks either by hand or by throwing some crumbs out.

any passerby would think he was some crazy lunatic or something.

you, however, had tried to meet him halfway since... well, since he didn't show up with your bags of bread crumbs.

"hey, what are you guys doing? i told you to stay in--" with a few ducks in your arms, your eyes spotted Nagito. he had heard your voice from your general direction, and his eyes had met yours.

"Nagito?!"

"[Y/n]!"

. . . .

"wow, [Y/n]! you really commanded those ducks as if they were your own army! such talent..! nothing less from an Ultimate, I suppose," he praised you for helping him get away from the flock of ducks that were, as said, your own army.

"i really am lucky to have had you save me, huh?" his question made you smile as you picked up on of the ducks from the nice, straight line behind you.

"from my own army, yes. very lucky, i'd say," Nagito's face seemed to flush a bit, shoving his hands into his pocket as he looked away from making eye contact.

"your army, huh..? then i guess i got it right," he boasted, chuckling to himself.

"well, they don't call you the ultimate lucky student for nothing," with your back turned to him, arms outstretched wide with enthusiasm as you began your speech.

"i shall dominate this world with this very duck army! ducks will be the new indoor pets, they'll be fed and appreciated everywhere.. they'll be a new trend! and once i take over this world..." you turned around, taking the bags with breadcrumbs from Nagito, "you'll be my second in command."

you waved goodbye as you trotted along with the many, many ducks following behind you.

his hands that were released from his pockets had covered his mouth, his mouth that let out small chuckles and giggles.

the hope you gathered inside of you to say that you'd take over this world infested with despair and fill it with hope by a duck army! it was splendid!

and to be your second in command...

he supposed that maybe just once, he could be a little bit selfish.

<3

Hajime Hinata (0.7k words)

it had been a simple outing to the park.

Hajime had no idea why you insisted to go somewhere else, as the park was a nice way to get some soft exercise and the scenery around the park nearby was beautiful.

he was fine with it if you didn't want to go, though.

despite all your protests, you both went anyway.

you two had only been in the park for a small while, but you were so stiff and observant. it was kind of concerning to him, so he decided to ask.

"hey, [Y/n], are you okay? if you don't want to stay here we can--"

"NO! i-i mean, no. i'm okay, i just-- i have something to tell you after we're done with the walk, okay?" you insisted that you both finish this walk.

you also thought that the scenery of the trees and the lake was beautiful, especially since the sun was so bright today. the weather was good for a walk, Hajime knew what he was doing when he suggested the outing to be today.

he scrunched his nose up a bit, but agreed nonetheless, "alright.. if you say so. if you ever need anything, you can always just ask."

he was so reassuring just AGGHHH I LOVE HIM

anyway

ducks.

all you saw were your ducks everywhere. if you hadn't trained them to understand your signals to stay away, you swore Hajime would have been swarmed and pecked by many, many ducks by now for even being near you.

thank goodness you had thought of things beforehand.

other than you spotting ducks everywhere, you were also graced by Hajime's smile the whole walk. just looking at nature and taking in the beauty of it-- Hajime loved being outside.

but most of all, he loved being with you during all this. if he was honest, he hoped that the thing you had to tell him was a confession-- but he wasn't lucky like Nagito. to get his hopes up would be silly, so he just needed to be logical.

maybe it was about this park, or something that had happened to make you so...

"Oh hey, a duck," his voice startled you. but that wasn't the only thing that surprised you.

a duck?!

he picked the small duck up and-- oh god.

"HAJIME!!"

. . . .

shooing a few ducks away from the brunette, you dusted him off, a sorry expression on your face.

"agh, i'm sorry--"

"why're you apologizing?" he gave a soft laugh, "it's not like you knew i'd be attacked by ducks."

as ridiculous as it sounded, after he picked up the small duck at his feet, he was knocked over by a multitude of others in hiding.

now that he thought of it, why were there so many ducks nearby..? he didn't see any on the lake, either. it was... odd.

"so hey, do you know why..?-"

"Hajime," you helped him get up on his feet, taking his hand and pulling him up from the ground.

his face flushed a bit as he grabbed your hand, and he gave his attention to you, "yes, [Y/n]?"

"those ducks were mine," you told him, a hand on his shoulder as you gave him the same sorry face as before, "i'm sorry."

...what?

what did you mean by-- what?? those ducks were yours? why-- no, how did you get those ducks? how did you get them to be so well trained to hide in bushes and trees??

"i know it's probably confusing, but-- i've had them for a long while. i promise i'm using them for the good of the world," you told him, as his confusion only worsened.

"good of... the world..?"

he could see your expression darken as you smiled, grabbing his hand and raising it to intertwine your fingers.

"world domination," you told him, your face brightening up once more.

he was baffled-- speechless. world domination?! he had to stop you--

"well, that is, if you can conquer the world with ducks," you chuckled, which had cancelled out your past claims.

"but i really did train those ducks. they're like my own mini army,"

he chuckled, almost finding this amusing. his chuckle turned into a small laugh before kissing your forehead, "world domination sounds like a good goal."

your face flushed a bit, letting go of his hand and backing away.

before conquering the world, it'd be better if you conquered the feeling inside your chest first.

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

[kageyomomma]

picture perfect - iwaizumi x reader

It had been almost 8 months since your son was born, and your parents had yet to meet him, so you were taking him on a short trip to your hometown. Iwaizumi could not join you on the trip because the Japanese National Team had a game, and he could not miss it. Outside the airport, he cuddled his son into his chest, and gave you a long kiss.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay traveling by yourself?” Iwaizumi questioned, “I could talk to my boss, I’m sure he would understand.” 

You giggled at him, ever since he became a dad, he really became a dad. 

You touched his cheek, “Hajime, we will be fine. I will call you as soon as we land, and facetime you every night, okay?”

You moved to take your son out of his arms, but he pulled him back.

“Just one more second, I need to talk to my little man.” He stared right into your sons eyes, “Iwaizumi Kai, you better be on your best behavior for mommy.”

Kai just smiled, tilted his head, and tried to grab his fathers nose with a giggle. Reluctantly, he handed his son over. 

“We will be back before you know it,” you started, “I love you, Hajime.”

And with one last kiss, Iwaizumis whole world was gone.

~

Iwa felt empty. This was the first time that he had ever been away from his little family, and he didn’t know what to do. He was sitting on the couch at home, and it was too quiet. No giggling baby, no stupid kids show playing on the TV, and your sweet voice was not calling out to him. 

He sighed and reached for his phone. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw his home screen. It was a picture that he took a few weeks ago. The three of you were at the mall and Kai had grabbed onto a hat, refusing to let it go. It was a beanie with a huge puffball on top of it. You grabbed one off of the display, putting it on. You also adjusted the other hat onto your sons head, his green eyes barely peeking out from under it and a huge smile on his face. 

Clicking on the photos icon, Iwazumi realized that most of his pictures are of you, Kai, or you and Kai. He scrolled, ending up on the picture of the three of you on the day that Kai was born. He had asked the nurse to take a picture of all of you, so he could send it to his teammates, old and new. You were in your hospital gown, your hair was pulled into what was almost a messy ponytail, and you were covered in sweat, but to Iwaizumi you looked as radiant as ever. Little Kai was wrapped in a bundle in your arms, he was only a few hours old. Iwaizumi was leaning over onto the bed, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, and the other helping you support Kai. His eyes were glossy from tears of joy, and his smile was bright enough to make the sun shield it’s eyes. 

He continued scrolling, finding the video of your gender reveal party. He pressed play. Inside a gym, he was standing behind the line with a Oikawa in front of him by the net.

“Are you ready Iwa-chan?” Oikawa called in a sing-song voice. Iwaizumi just smiled and nodded. The camera moved to you, sporting a baby bump and holding a volleyball. You tossed the ball to Oikawa, who delivered a perfect set to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi spiked the ball, and it exploded into blue glitter and confetti. He landed back on the ground and turned to you with his arms in the air. 

“We’re having a boy!”

With a smile he slid out of the video, and kept scrolling. His eyes landed on a picture from your wedding. That was truly the best day of his life. The picture was taken on a dock. The venue had a small lake around back, and the photographer thought it would be perfect for some pictures. While the two of you were posing, you had lost your footing and stumbled. If Hajime was a second slower, you would have fallen into the lake. Just as his strong arms wrapped around you waist and he pulled you into him, laughing, the photographer snapped the picture. 

He smiled at the memories, but sat his phone down, deciding to try and find a better was to spend his time. Not even five minutes later his phone started vibrating on the table.

‘Iwaizumi (Y/N) would like to FaceTime...’

[aliveandfullofjoy]

It’s the first day of 2021, which calls (yet again!) for my ten favorite new-to-me movies I watched in 2020!

The rules are the same as always: no movies from this past year (2020) or the year before (2019). Every other year is free game.

All ten of these movies are fascinating and beautiful and well worth your time, so consider this a strong endorsement for all of them. I’ve also included ways to watch all of the films (as of this writing, Jan. 1, 2021). 

01. Two for the Road (dir. Stanley Donen, 1967; USA) Donen takes the ideas of romantic cinema and celebrates it while injecting a healthy dose of painful reality. He chooses two of the English language's most attractive movie stars, Albert Finney (in full himbo mode!) and Audrey Hepburn, and follows their ten-year marriage as seen on their various road trips across Europe. It's a memory piece more than anything else, but the arc of their relationship is clear and their palpable connection burns through the screen. These are two beautiful, intelligent adults who love each other deeply, who are still physically attracted to each other, who are able to hurl verbal jabs and insults at each other with the best of them. Finney is magnificent, but Hepburn sort of steals the show. In what is probably her finest onscreen performance, she gets to grow from a virginal bride to a fully fleshed out adult, living beautifully in different shades of sexy and goofy and bitter. They make a screen couple for the ages. The script is funny without losing its honesty, it's tragic without leaning too far into artifice, it's romantic without being treacly. It's a remarkable balancing act and makes for a masterpiece. (Two for the Road is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

02. Stop Making Sense (dir. Jonathan Demme, 1984; USA) Stop Making Sense feels like a miracle. It hints at a narrative arc, but that part is unimportant. It’s a live performance recorded and packaged specifically for consumption as a film. In its brief runtime, it becomes a living, breathing, sweating testament to David Byrne’s skill as a performer, as a songwriter, as a storyteller, and to the remarkable talents of everyone in Talking Heads. It’s a breathtakingly joyous experience. I can’t remember the last time I watched a recording of a live performance that captured the same brand of energy, of buoyancy, that you feel as you’re leaving a great communal experience. This is a masterpiece that proclaims as loudly as possible that there is no joy greater than making art with people you love. (Stop Making Sense is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)

03. Scattered Clouds (dir. Mikio Naruse, 1967; Japan) Filled to the brim with unspoken turmoil and emotional devastation, Naruse's final film chronicles the rough terrain of a relationship between a widow and the man responsible for her husband's death. Spanning years and exploring just how deeply these wounds can go, much of the Scattered Cloud’s success rests on the performances from Yuzo Kayama and Yoko Tsukasa. Kayama is a handsome, likable screen presence who beautifully lives in his own cloud of grief. Tsukasa gets a bit more to chew on, as this really is her story: her arc and her inability to move forward, despite the best intentions, is one of the film's most lasting ideas. Brutally sad but incredibly beautiful. The work of a master filmmaker. (Scattered Clouds is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

04. L’Atalante (dir. Jean Vigo, 1934; France) My only regret with L’Atalante is that I didn’t see it sooner. The final (and only feature-length) film from Jean Vigo before his untimely death at 29, this film is a technical marvel and a humanist miracle. Featuring spirited performances from Dita Parlo, Jean Dasté, and the great character actor Michel Simon, and intoxicating dreamlike imagery, as well as a relentlessly romantic score from Maurice Jaubert, this film looks and feels like no other film from its era. (L’Atalante is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

05. Daisies (dir. Věra Chytilová, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Věra Chytilová's iconic masterpiece of anarchic cinema more than lives up to its reputation. Operating on its own chaotic wavelength, Daisies follows the exploits of Marie I (Jitka Cerhová) and Marie II (Ivana Karbanová) who seek to spoil themselves after realizing how spoiled the world is. They begin to live extravagantly and rip off older men and cause general mischief. Over less than 80 minutes, Daisies upends a whole slew of cultural norms. Beautiful, ambiguous, funny, cynical, and truly visionary. (Daisies is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max.)

06. The Hero (dir. Satyajit Ray, 1966; India) The Hero sort of feels like Satyajit Ray's answer to 8½ in its meditation of fame and regret. Uttam Kumar is fantastic as Arindam Mukherjee, a superstar actor who works through his career and his loss of values in an interview with a reporter played by Sharmila Tagore, who is also fantastic. Under Ray's sleek direction, gracefully opening up the world of the train, and with his intelligent and human script, the cast uniformly sinks their teeth into this film. Kumar is the MVP out of necessity -- without him, the whole film would fall apart -- but the whole ensemble is remarkable, peppering the background of the train scenes and in Arindam's flashbacks. This also has one of the all-time great nightmare sequences. Easily one of the master director’s best films. (The Hero is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

07. Malcolm X (dir. Spike Lee, 1992; USA) Malcolm X is a truly massive film housing an even bigger performance from the great Denzel Washington. Tracing Malcolm X’s life and career while juggling numerous tones and visual styles and spanning across decades and continents, this is surely Spike Lee’s most ambitious film up to this point in his career. Washington is onscreen for virtually all of its long runtime, from the early exuberant days before his imprisonment all the way up to that fateful day in the Audubon Ballroom, and he is, of course, tremendous. All that classic Denzel charisma and magnetism is on full display, whether in his impassioned speeches or in his more intimate scenes. Lee’s direction is top notch, making this full story about a life with an incalculably profound impact feel richly and deeply intimate. This is one of the essential American epics. (Malcolm X is available to rent online.)

08. Beau Travail (dir. Claire Denis, 1999; France) Beau Travail’s place in the modern canon of world cinema is assured, and Denis is rightfully seen as a master, but it really can’t be overstated just how much of a gem this film is. Pepper with sparse dialogue (though always packed with meaning), the film lives in one of two modes: muscular, suntanned men doing slow, precise choreographed exercises in the heat of the day and those same muscular men dancing and gyrating with attractive young women in some ethereal nightclub. Between these poles lies Denis’ almost cosmic meditation on masculine ego, homoerotic obsession, and regret. A fascinating, enigmatic, devastating beauty. (Beau Travail is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

09. Only Angels Have Wings (dir. Howard Hawks, 1939; USA) Only Angels Have Wings might be Howard Hawks' crowning directorial achievement. The aerial work, the rainy nights, the beautiful atmosphere of the bars, the palpable camaraderie of the characters, the tragic loss of life and yet the persistence to move forward. Cary Grant leads a terrific cast, including a quietly moving Richard Barthelmess and a rarely-more-likable Thomas Mitchell, and his chemistry with both Jean Arthur (the most charming) and Rita Hayworth is a joy to watch. This film seems to dabble in multiple genres at once, subverting the cliches of the Hollywood formula while still embracing the melodrama and the artifice within. In that way, the film feels very strange, but if the viewer lets themselves be carried along with Hawks' unique rhythm, the reward is one of the most fascinating and exciting films in Hollywood's fabled 1939 output. (Only Angels Have Wings is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

10. Closely Watched Trains (dir. Jiří Menzel, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Between the precise composition of the shots and the young narrator-protagonist, Closely Watched Trains feels like a spiritual predecessor to Wes Anderson's work. This comparison extends to the thematic content of the film as well, as the story of a young man coming-of-age against the backdrop of the Nazi regime is definitely cut from the same cloth as The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lucky for me, I love Anderson's work, and Grand Budapest is my favorite of his, so Menzel's stylistic flourishes immediately endeared me to the film.Menzel maintains a skillful tonal balancing act throughout Closely Watched Trains. Even under the wry, almost self-deprecating humor, the film never loses track of preciousness of life and the horrific tragedy of war. Beautiful cinematography, strong performances across the board, a memorable score, and a clever script make this a gem of the Czech New Wave and a moving, delightful, and accessible coming-of-age tale. (Closely Watched Trains is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951), The Band’s Visit (Eran Kolirin, 2007), But I’m a Cheerleader (Jamie Babbit, 1999), Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962), A Cottage on Dartmoor (Anthony Asquith, 1929), Crossing Delancey (Joan Micklin Silver, 1988), Divorce Italian Style (Pietro Germi, 1961); Eat Drink Man Woman (Ang Lee, 1994), Fireworks (Kenneth Anger, 1947), The Freshman (Fred C. Newmeyer & Sam Taylor, 1925), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), Kuroneko (Kaneto Shindo, 1968), Le Bonheur (Agnès Varda, 1965), Le Notti Bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957), Like Father, Like Son (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2013), Local Hero (Bill Forsyth, 1983), Love & Basketball (Gina Prince-Bythewood, 2000), Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (George Miller, 1981), Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair, 2001), One Sings, the Other Doesn’t (Agnès Varda, 1977), Pennies from Heaven (Herbert Ross, 1981), Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller, 1953), Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998), Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954), Sleepless in Seattle (Nora Ephron, 1993), Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One (William Greaves, 1968), Tea and Sympathy (Vincente Minnelli, 1956), They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (Sydney Pollack, 1969), Tomboy (Céline Sciamma, 2011), Wendy & Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, 2008), Within Our Gates (Oscar Micheaux, 1920), Whisper of the Heart (Yoshifumi Kondo, 1995), and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (Robert Zemeckis, 1988).

And some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2020: A Fantastic Woman (Sebastián Lelio, 2017)

Final movie watched in 2020: Holiday (George Cukor, 1938)

Worst movie watched: The Notebook (Nick Cassavetes, 2004)

Oldest movie watched: Ten films by the Lumière Brothers (Louis Lumière, 1895)

Longest movie watched: Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954; 207 minutes)

Month with most amount of movies watched: December (58 movies, including shorts)

Month with least amount of movies watched: February (11 movies) (pre-COVID, naturally)

First movie from 2020 seen: Birds of Prey (Cathy Yan, 2020)

Total movies watched: 455

[filterjeons]

he loves me not | jhs

“did you ever fall in love with me?”

✦ pairing: jung hoseok x reader

✦ summary: he was the man who caught your eye ever since he smacked your face with a soccer ball in elementary. you loved him for over a decade....but you can’t find yourself to confess.

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut, i’ll let you guys find out what the other genre is 😏

�� word count: 4.9k

✦ warnings: college au, soft dom!hoseok, fingering, oral, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, get ready for an emotional ride <3

He loves me, he loves me not…

Those were the same words that you kept repeating for a few days now, a flower representing if the man you have a crush on likes you back. To any other person, it seems stupid that a flower will judge your love life but you heartily disagree. Flowers and love have always been associated with one another and from a viewpoint, it makes sense on why picking petals off of flowers can determine your fate with the person you love. 

Jung Hoseok. You two knew each other but at the same time you didn’t. The first time you two caught each other’s eyes was during elementary school. He was one of the popular kids: with his cheery smile, bubbly personality, and warm aura, nearly everyone became friends with him. You, on the other hand, were more of a wallflower. You only had a few close friends and you spent your time reading books instead of playing games. Some people call you boring but who cares about them. 

During recess in 1st grade, you decided to read in the middle of the field. It seemed ideal, the grass was green and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue. There wasn’t even a cloud in sight. All of a sudden, a soccer ball came speeding towards you and hit you straight-up in the head. You couldn’t remember what happened but when you opened your eyes, you saw a worried Hoseok hovering face-to-face on top of you in the nurse’s room.

“Y/N-ah! You’re okay! I’m so so sorry that I hurt you! I should’ve known you were there.” 

“It’s okay. Uh, my head kind of hurts…”

“I’ll go get some ice for you!” When he passed the “ice bag” (which was basically a frozen paper towel), you felt a peculiar feeling. You didn’t know why but there were sparks when you grabbed the ice bag from him. What was it? Eventually, he had to leave for his classroom but when you were free to leave the nurse’s room, he offered to walk you to class. By then, you figured out what that feeling was. And it became a 12-year crush on the boy who hit you with a soccer ball. 

Like some coincidence, both of you attended the same college together. You didn’t expect to see anyone from your school during your freshman orientation but when you saw the familiar sunshine smile, a wave of relief and fear washed over you.

Hoseok being the extrovert that he is made friends with nearly the whole campus, is in a sorority, and hosts the biggest parties the university has ever seen. You continued to be the loner that you were but luckily you found a close friend in Nayeon. 

As you and Nayeon were strolling across campus, you saw Hoseok and his girlfriend talking and chattering with Starbucks in their hands. You felt a pit of jealousy in your stomach, internally yelling at yourself for not having the guts to tell him how you truly feel. 

However, you expected him to go out with someone. He can’t stay single forever just for you because he barely knows you and your feelings. If he did, then you would move to another state out of embarrassment. 

“Y/N, stop looking otherwise he’s going to think that you’re creepy!” Nayeon giggled, pushing you away from the couple. “Why won’t you ever talk to him?” “I can’t. We didn’t really interact during high school.” “Look, college is about starting a new life. Come on, you’re 18 now! You’re an adult! Don’t let your fears get in the way of having fun!” “Besides, they’re dating!”

“So? You can be friends with him!”

“Not now, I have class. I’ll see you around!” You made way inside the building and into your sociology class, the professor setting up his computer for a lecture. You didn’t know a lot of people here and the person who sat next to you dropped out. 

All of a sudden, a guy with rainbow-styled clothes and a vibrant aura entered, giving a high-five to the professor and waving to your classmates. Your eyes widened, the man who has been invading your thoughts is actually in the same class with you. 

Hoseok scanned the room for a place to sit, his face brightening when he saw an empty seat next to you. Your heart started to race, he’s actually going to sit next to you! “Oh, Y/N! I didn’t know you were in this class! I just got moved here and I’m so glad I found someone I know!” 

“Yeah, uh, hi. I thought you were gonna sit with someone else.”

“Nah, actually I wanted to talk to you ever since orientation but I never saw you around. However, I saw you walking by and staring at me and Julia.” Oh, that’s his girlfriend’s name. Interesting. 

“Heh...no..you didn’t see anything!” “You’re cute. I hope we have more classes together!” After everyone has settled in their seats, the professor started going on about the lesson but you couldn’t care less about what he had to say. The way Hoseok was so invested in the powerpoint but occasionally stopped to play games was more intriguing than whatever was going on. No, he must think you’re crazy. You snapped out of it and attempted to focus on the screen. 

“From this week’s lesson, I am going to assign you all a project. Your will be grouped by pairs and they will be determined by the place you’re sitting in right now.” You internally counted down the pair of seats from the row you’re in and sure enough, you’re paired with Hoseok. He smiled at you, holding your hands excitedly. You obviously reciprocate the feeling but your head didn’t let you show it. 

“Yay! We’re going to be doing our project together! This is going to be so fun!” You smiled and nodded, trying to come up with things to say but your mind was blank.

“W-wait, would your girlfriend be okay?” Wow Y/N, that’s the first thing that you say? Way to get your man. 

“No, I think she’ll be chill. Besides, you’re like one of my childhood friends so it’s cool.” At least you’re a friend in his eyes. 

The session ended 15 minutes later and you couldn’t wait to get out. As you quickly stuffed your books and laptop in your bag, Hoseok tossed a little airplane at your head. 

“That’s my number if you want to talk about the project and...other stuff. If you’re free tomorrow, do you wanna get started? There’s a party I want to go to at the end of the week and I want to get this out of the way.” “Uh, sure. I’ll text you later,” you said shyly, zipping your bag up and exiting the room. You felt your body sweat and your heart pound rapidly. Your brain still can’t wrap around the fact that Hoseok sits next to you and you will be working on a project together.

“Hey, what’s up? You look like you just got out of a haunted house,” Nayeon said as you approached the familiar bench where the two of you always sat. 

“Hoseok just transferred to my class, he sits next to me, and we’re doing a project together!” “Ooh, go get your man!” 

“No no, this is bad! I always act so weird around him! Plus he wants us to work on it tomorrow! What should I do?” “First, relax. Take a deep breath,” Nayeon instructed, placing her hands on your shoulders as you slowed down your breathing. “Next, don’t worry about a thing. Try to push aside your feelings for him and talk to him as you would with another person.” “Only he’s my crush for about 12 years!” 

“So? I know it must be awkward due to your feelings for him but if you act awkward, then you wouldn’t be close to him. And you want that, do you?” “Yeah…” “You got this, don’t worry!” Nayeon’s words gave you some hope and encouragement, which made you feel better. She was right, you can’t keep acting this way for long. Even though he was dating someone else, at least you’ll have him close as a friend, right? 

You never told anybody this but you secretly kept a daisy and you picked off the petals every day. It was down to four petals and you decided to take two off.

He loves me, he loves me not. 

However you didn’t want it to end with a negative note so you picked one last petal off. 

He loves me.  

The next day came and you were sitting at a local cafe, waiting for Hoseok to arrive. Since you arrived a few minutes early, you had enough time to go over what you want to say and if you look good enough. 

Surprisingly, he came on time and even gave you a mini hug. You watched as he placed his bags on the ground and pulled out his laptop. 

“Hi Y/N! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” “N-no, not at all! You came on time actually!” “Good, well do you want to order anything at first?” “Sure, I really want coffee right now!” As you two waited in line, you shyly gazed over at Hoseok who shined brighter than any sun in the world. You accidentally brushed his hand with yours, causing him to laugh. 

“How come we didn’t talk much throughout high school? I can’t remember the last time I really talked to you except yesterday.” Hoseok asked, scanning the menu for a drink he’d like. “I don’t know, I guess we had different classes and you were more popular than me…” “But I would’ve been friends with you no matter what.” 

“Would you? I’m not exactly the most popular girl in school.” “Yeah. You seem chill and it’s nice having a reserved friend against all my loud and hyper ones. I hope you take it as a compliment.” “Uh, I do. What are you gonna get?” “I’ll have a vanilla latte. It’s a classic but it’s iconic at the same time.” “I’ll get what you’re getting.” You watched him order and talk casually to the cashier, a common thing you’re scared of doing. It must be nice dating him, he sounds like the guy who can be the life of the party but still has an eye for you. 

“Do you want me to pay for my-” “No, I shouldn’t have to make you pay. I mean they say the gentleman pays for the first study date,” he replied, swiping his credit card. Oh my god did he just say-

A few minutes later, the cashier gives you your drinks with your name scrabbled on the cupsleeve. You and Hoseok grabbed them at the same time, accidentally bumping together. You blushed at the proximity, jumping back with fear. Geez, why are you acting like this? You really are a fool. 

An hour later and both of you made decent progress on your projects. Hoseok decided to take a break and scroll through his Instagram while you worked on some slides. 

“Hey, Y/N, do I follow you on Insta?” “Uh, I’m not sure. I think so?” He checked his phone again, a frown on his normally joyful face. “No I don't. What’s your username?” “I’ll type it in for you.” 

He nodded and passed you his phone. You quickly typed your user, hit the follow button, and went back to his profile. He had a lot of followers due to his popularity and personality, which shocks you considering that you’ve never met someone with over 5,000 followers. 

“Y/N, ever since I saw you yesterday I wanted to get to know you. I feel bad that we barely interacted throughout high school and I want to make up for that. So just hit me with what you got.” He leaned forward, interested in hearing what you have to say. 

Your mind immediately stopped working as you quickly tried to come up with an interesting conversation. And the only event you could think of was the time where he hit you with a soccer ball in elementary school. 

“Actually Hoseok, we have known each other since we were 1st graders.”

“Really? Were you in my class back then? God, I can’t even remember what I had for lunch yesterday but you manage to remember that.” “Yeah, there was a time when I was reading out in the middle of the soccer field. I was the perfect target to be hit which is what you did. I don’t remember what happened after the ball smacked me in the face but when I woke up, I saw you waiting for me. You offered to give me ice and walk me back to class when my headache stopped. We barely saw each other after that but that was still one of the most significant moments in my life.” “Oh yeah, I still feel bad that I did that-” You took a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve to say what you’ve always wanted to say to him. It’s now or never, just do it! 

“Hoseok, ever since that day, I’ve loved you since.” Your words shocked him, his mouth dropping open and his eyes the size of saucers. He tried to comprehend what you said when all of a sudden, you burst into tears. 

You shouldn’t have said it, it was too soon. Your vision blurry of tears, you stuffed all your stuff in your bag and ran out of the cafe. 

“Wait, Y/N! Wait! Hold on, we need to talk about this!” “I’m sorry Hoseok, I shouldn’t have-” “No, this is important! Y/N, look at me!” He spun you around and forced you to look at his face. You tried to blink away your tears and he quickly flicked them away. 

“Y/N, are your feelings true? Did you love me for that long?” 

You nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes again. It was so scary waiting for him to either reciprocate those feelings or walk away. 

All of a sudden, he gave you a kiss. And it wasn’t like any other peck, it was one full of want and passion. He quickly pulled away and gave you a tight hug. 

“Thank you for telling me how you feel. And I like you back.” 

He broke the hug and wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two walked towards campus. You felt your heart slowly relax, he likes you as well! Maybe all that pining and worry was for nothing! “Y/N, it’s getting dark so do you want to stay at my dorm? I don’t have a roommate so it’s okay,” he said, heading the opposite direction from the path that leads to your dorms. 

“Sure thing. It’s okay as well.” You were totally freaking out inside, you’re going INSIDE his dorm. After a few minutes, he opened the door and you carefully walked in, your nose wrinkling a bit. Iwas messy due to the overflowing trash bags full of takeout and beer bottles but overall it wasn’t too bad. You hung your bag on a random coat stand full of jackets and baseball caps. There was a blanket and a pillow on his couch where you could possibly stay. 

“Sorry if it doesn’t look too appealing, I’m kind of lazy to clean my room,” he sighed, stuffing the full bags in a random corner. You shook your head, carefully sitting down on his couch. Hoseok sat down next to you, loosely laying his hand around your shoulders. 

“So, what do you want to do Y/N?” “I’m not sure. Is it bad that I want to stay like this?” “No, I do too.” He moved closer to you, your bodies touching and you felt heat rise up to your cheeks. You lied down on your back and you felt his presence above you as he slowly leaned closer to you. “Do you want to do this?” You couldn’t think of the right words to say, were you really about to do it with your crush? It’s now or never, Y/N. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

“It’s okay, I want to do it. But I’m not experienced in this type of stuff,” you confessed.

“Then I’ll teach you. I’ll go slow with you, I promise.” He kissed you again, the same feeling like the one outside. It was slow and romantic, just the way you imagined. He probed his tongue in front of your mouth, asking for entrance to which you let him in. Hoseok started to remove your T-shirt but stopped immediately to ask for your permission.

“Are you sure this is okay with you?” “Yes, I promise. I’ve always wanted this to be with you.” “Good. I’ll make you feel so good.” He pulled off the shirt and carefully took off your white bra, a mundane action that made you feel butterflies. After everything was taken off, you immediately covered your chest. You weren’t used to being exposed to someone like this, much less the guy you love. 

“Don’t worry baby, you look beautiful. I promise,” Hoseok assured, gently removing your arms. He latched his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking on them feverishly. You let out a loud moan before biting your lip to stifle them. What if someone was there? “Don’t hide those moans for me, baby girl. I want to hear them,” he murmured, his mouth still on your breast. After hearing his words, you started to let out a series of moans and whimpers. While his mouth was on one, he was using his fingers to play with your nipple and tug on it a bit, a loud whine escaping your mouth.

“Please…” “Aww, does it hurt, little girl?” You shook your head as he slowly made his way over to your jeans, cupping your covered heat. You could feel yourself become more wet since no one has ever been near that area before and you wanted him to touch you more. Hoseok hastily pulled off your jeans and underwear, throwing them off to the side. 

You felt embarrassed that you were completely bare in front of your crush and you wondered if it was too soon to back out of this. But what’s done is done and you’ve wanted him to see you like this for a long time so you decided to have some confidence. That’s what Nayeon told you, right?

“Did you ever have something in you?” 

“No, this is my first time ever doing this. I’m kind of worried.” “It’s okay, I’ll help you. Now, I’m going to do a bit of foreplay to get you ready for my dick. It’s basically like warm-ups before the actual thing. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.” You felt his fingers linger near your entrance and you nodded at him to enter. He suddenly purged a slender finger inside you as you let out a moan, him slowly thrusting to make you comfortable. 

“You look so cute, taking my finger like it’s my cock. I don’t even know if you’re ready to even take it.” “I am! I’m ready! Please, keep moving!” You felt a wave of confidence overcome you, surprising yourself and Hoseok. He turned his shocked expression into a smirk, curling his finger and adding another one inside you. 

He was stretching your walls out well to later accommodate his dick, making scissoring motions inside and finding your g-spot. All of this pleasure was too much for you as you held onto Hoseok’s arms and fed his ego with mewls and whines. You couldn’t form a single word due to the pleasure he was giving you, even though it was only two fingers. 

“Ah, ah, Hoseok, I-” He suddenly adds a third finger and keeps thrusting quickly, his palm rubbing your clit. His palm was quickly replaced by his mouth as he sucked on it harshly. 

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for the first time? Are you close?” he teases. 

“Oh my god, oh, Hoseok…” You felt tiny beads of sweat drip down your forehead from the heat and pressure, your walls tightening around his long fingers. 

You felt a knot in your stomach which you assumed that your orgasm was coming soon. Hoseok could also tell and kept going faster, making fast come-here motions and playing around with your clit. 

“You’re close now, are you? Such a good girl as I stretch your tiny pussy out for my big dick. That’s right baby girl, cum for me now. Cum all over my fingers and face.” His words were your breaking point as you felt that knot snap, your orgasm arriving. You moan out Hoseok’s name as he stares at your cum flow out of your system. He sucked on his fingers before taking some of your juices and bringing it to your mouth. You suck on them wantonly, causing Hoseok’s dick to twitch. Maybe someday you can suck him off with your cute mouth.

“Good girl, you did so well baby,” he praises, making your stomach have butterflies from his words. You watch as he strips himself to his boxers, your eyes widening on what could be under them. He palms his cock for a bit, staring into your eyes seductively. 

“Are you ready for this?” You nodded rapidly, wanting to have his dick inside you. He slowly pulled down his boxers and his cock immediately sprang up, looking erect and large. You gulped at what’s going to enter you, Hoseok smirking at your reaction. 

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. I’ll go slow at first, I promise,” he assured, the tip of his cock slightly brushing against your pussy. 

You braced yourself for him to enter you, whining as you clenched around his length. 

“Oh my fucking god, you’re so tight. You’re doing well baby,” he groaned, slowly pulling out and pushing in. You found yourself at a nice pace but after a while, you signalled him to go faster. This is really it, you’re going to be losing your virginity to him! He started to ram into you quickly, his dick filling you up and hitting many different nerves inside. You clawed on his back, trying to keep yourself steady from the insane pace he was going at. 

“Look at you trying to take my cock, such a cutie,” he coos, toying around with your breasts again. You let out a mewl at his words, lewd sounds filling the room. Your walls started to clench around him tightly causing Hoseok to let out low grunts and moans. 

The now familiar feeling of your orgasm started to make its way again, the knot returning as you approach it for the second time. Hoseok could tell that you were close as well with the way your cunt was tightening around his dick.

“You going to cum again, baby? That’s right, make a mess on my big dick,” he grunts, slowly reaching his own high as well. 

You let out a moan as your juices came pouring down again, your whole body shaking and your cunt sensitive from cumming twice. Little white stars started to appear in your vision from how much pleasure you had. Hoseok started to thrust faster and suddenly pulled out, stroking his length to release all of his seed onto your stomach. After it stopped spurting out, he took a minute to catch his breath and leaned down to kiss you on the lips. 

“How was it, sweetie? Was it okay?” he asked, caressing your cheek.

“I-it was great. Thank you so much, I didn’t expect it to be like this.” “I’m going to get a towel to clean you up and some clothes. I’ll be right back,” he smiled, leaving the living room for a bit. 

You stared at the ceiling, thinking about what you’ve done with him. Even though many people your age think of sex as just a way to get pleasure, it meant a lot to you because you were giving your body and trust to a person. Obviously, Hoseok was very special to you and you were grateful that it was him who took away your virginity. You loved him enough to let yourself be exposed to you and you knew that he must’ve had sex with other girls but did he feel something special with you? Was it only you who were feeling this way. 

Hoseok came back dressed in a T-shirt and shorts and in his hand was another T-shirt and a towel. He carefully wiped off the cum that landed onto your stomach and thighs, making you get goosebumps from the touch. You put on the T-shirt he gave you, the bottom of it reaching your thighs. 

“So am I going to stay here for the night?” “Of course! Why would I let you go back home at this hour?” “Uh, am I going to sleep on the couch?” “Hell no, it’s too stained for you to sleep there. You can sleep in my bedroom with me.” 

You felt your heart beat faster from the thought of sleeping next to him. He picked you up bridal style since you were too sore to walk and laid you down on his bed. Since it was late and there wasn’t anything you needed to do, you decided to get ready to go to bed. 

Hoseok watches you go to sleep and decides to join you. He stares at the ceiling, thinking about what he did with you. It was nice seeing his childhood friend again and he definitely enjoyed having sex with you but he felt different after. When you confessed your feelings for him at the cafe, his heart felt relieved for some reason. It was different than when his exes and current girlfriend confessed. 

Do I love Y/N? 

He leans over to you and lightly strokes your hair, finding you adorable. He wishes he found you sooner since that day in elementary school, he wishes he asked you out earlier. Maybe tomorrow he could ask you to be his girlfriend. But that would mean he’s cheating and he was never a big fan of breaking someone’s heart just to be with another person. It made him less of a person and all of a sudden, he felt guilty about what he did today.

You were such a sweet person and he didn’t want to harm you by rejecting your feelings...but he doesn’t want to break the trust of a person just because you were a childhood friend. 

Hoseok’s heart ached as he decided to let you go due to the guilt of cheating on his girlfriend, even though he would much rather have you here beside him. 

The next morning, you found yourself awake with Hoseok sitting next to you. You smiled as you remembered what happened yesterday, feeling better than ever. 

“Good morning, Hoseok!”

“Ah, good morning, Y/N!” “Do you want anything for breakfast?” “Listen Y/N, I need to talk to you about something. It’s important so please listen. Uh, yesterday shouldn’t have happened and I feel like you shouldn’t have slept with me.” 

“Wait, why?” “Do you remember that I have a girlfriend?” “Did you break up with her?” “No...so that means I cheated on her.” 

You felt your heart break as Hoseok avoided eye contact with you. Your first time was with someone who had a girlfriend and he cheated on her with you. 

“You’re right. This shouldn’t have happened. Why was I stupid enough to let you take my virginity?” “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t think we can see each other anymore.” You felt hot tears drip down your cheeks, feeling embarrassed and foolish. The man you loved took your virginity but it meant nothing. It was just a one-night stand. 

“I’m going to go now, I don’t feel comfortable here. But I have a question, you know how much I loved you for over a decade. How much that night meant to me and how much you mean to me. Did you ever feel the same way? Did you ever feel something between us during that time?” 

You looked at Hoseok’s face, scanning to see if there’s any emotion. He looked into your eyes but he shook his head. Hoseok desperately wanted to say yes but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt someone else for you.

“N-no, it meant nothing to me. I guess it was just a one-time thing. This shouldn’t have happened, I’m sorry that I never told you before.” 

You let out a sob as you made your way out of his bedroom, grabbing your bag and putting on your shoes so you can leave. You looked back to see if Hoseok followed you but he still remained in his room. With your heart torn into pieces, you trudged out of his dorm without a final goodbye from him. 

It’s been a few hours since you and Hoseok saw each other. Luckily, you didn’t have class together but you stared at him talking with his girlfriend like nothing never happened. He locked eyes with you and there was an intense connection for a moment but you broke it since that’ll never happen again. 

You pulled out the flower which only had a petal remaining. Even though flowers don’t accurately predict your love life, this one knows what will happen between you and Hoseok. You thought he loved you back but it turned out to be nothing. A tear fell out of your eye as you pulled out the last petal, the answer evident from the now-lifeless stem. 

He loves me not. 

a/n: hope you guys don’t hate me too much over the ending! love y’all <3

[daydreamsoul]

Take My Breath Away

Kim Mingyu x Reader 

→Genres: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst (Not really)

→Word count: 3084

→Warnings: Mild language, cringey humor, and a reference to an iconic 80s song. 

→authors note: I’m not very proud of this. I wrote this at the beginning of the year just to be writing something. But Kim Mingyu is a cutie who deserves all the love in the world, so here we are ❤️

-

It was in the middle of summer that you realized you were in love with your best friend. 

July, to be exact. A very, very hot July day. 

The day had started off like many others that summer. You woke late, showered, and laid around your apartment in light clothing, savoring the occasional cooling breeze that came through your open windows.

Then, like every other day, your peace was broken by three sharp knocks on your door before it was thrown open.

“Y/N! You home?” Mingyu’s voice rang out through the silent apartment. 

You heaved a sigh, your head tilting to your open bedroom door. 

“You know I’m home, Mingyu!” You called back. 

Footsteps sounded from the hallway and within seconds Mingyu’s head peeped around the doorframe. 

A bright smile lit up his face, and he chuckled at your irritated pout. 

“What should we do today?” He asked as he plopped down on your bed next to you. 

The warmth of his body that usually enveloped you in comfort instead served to make you more miserable. 

“Don’t lay so close, I’m already sweating on my own.” You grumble, shoving his shoulder away. “Also, it’s too hot to do anything. I don’t wanna move today.” 

Mingyu ignored your whines, and instead persisted. 

“We have to do something. You haven’t left the house in five days, and it’s summer.” 

You paused, surprise gripping you as you realized he was right. You had avoided leaving your house for the past week, not wanting to be out in the sun. 

“Has it been that long?” You hummed, biting your lip. 

“Yes.” He replied in a serious voice. “I’m determined to get you out of the house today.” 

You groaned, running a hand over your eyes tiredly. 

“Mingyu, I really don’t want-“ 

“Let’s go to the beach!” He interrupted. “We haven’t been in forever, it’ll be fun!” 

Despite your initial refusal, you could never say no to Mingyu. Especially when he looked like he did now, all puppy-like in his excitement. 

Plus, it always felt rewarding when he cheered and hugged you after you gave in. 

_ 

The thing was, you forgot one important factor about going swimming. 

You couldn’t swim worth a shit. 

When you arrived, Mingyu was quick to ditch you in favor of throwing himself into the sparkling water. 

You smiled at his actions before laying down a towel in one of the empty spaces on the crowded sand. You set to work lathering yourself in sunscreen, every now and then looking around to watch the various others around you enjoying the day. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad, you thought to yourself as you laid down on the towel to sunbathe, maybe I’ll even get a tan. 

For the second time that day, Mingyu was the one to break your peace. 

A hand grabbed your own and hauled you up to your feet, making you shriek in surprise. 

“Come swim with me,” Mingyu insisted. “I brought you here to make you have fun, and sitting around on the hot sand isn’t fun.” 

It was when you were waist deep in the water that you remembered your inexperience when it came to swimming. 

“Wait, wait!” You tugged Mingyu’s hand that was gripping yours to halt him. 

He stopped, his head swiveling around to send you a questioning look. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

You looked down at the gentle waves lapping at your stomach, anxiety growing as you thought of what could be below the surface of the water that you couldn’t see. 

“I’m nervous.” You admitted after a moment. “I don’t know how to swim. Plus, what if we get attacked by a shark or something?” 

Mingyu resisted the urge to laugh, his amusement being overcome by his need to make you feel safe. 

“Don’t worry, I’m right here with you. I won’t let you drown, and I won���t let a shark or anything else attack you. We’ll be fine.” He said softly. 

Still hesitant, you bit your lip and shook your head. 

“I don’t know. . .” You mumbled. 

Mingyu paused, seemingly in thought, before he took your other hand. 

Confusion swept across your features. 

“What’re you d-“ 

The words died in your throat as he brought your hands closer to link around his waist. 

“Just keep your arms around me.” He said gently. “I’ll help you stay above water. Let’s go a bit deeper.” 

Unable to form a coherent thought, you just nodded as he slowly walked backwards, further into the water. 

You were now chest deep in the water, and Mingyu stopped. 

Fear gripped you, causing you to pull closer to Mingyu, your chest brushing against his own. You looked around frantically, scanning the water for unseen threats. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Mingyu reassured, his hands resting on your waist. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” 

His words and the weight of his hands on your skin made you cease your search and instead turn to look up at him. 

His dark hair was soaked from his previous swim, pushed back from his forehead. His eyes were soft and sparkling, the ocean water reflecting in them. 

Your eyes traveled lower, to his smiling pink lips. You admired them a second too long, and hurriedly averted your eyes lower. 

Which turned out to be a mistake. 

You were met with the marvelous view of his broad chest, water droplets trailing down slowly, making your cheeks turn a deep red. 

The fact that your own chest was brushing his made matters even worse. 

Heart thudding in your ears, you barely heard him mumble your name. 

Looking back up into his eyes after he called your name once again, that’s when you had the life changing realization. 

You were in love with your best friend. 

You were in love with Kim Mingyu. 

_ 

You hadn’t been the same since coming to terms with the affection you held in your heart for the man. 

It seemed harder to breathe around him now that you knew you were in love with him. You felt squirmy and hot every time you were with him, your heart thudding in your chest. 

You cursed yourself for acting differently around him. You knew you had these same feelings since the very first time you met him, but now that you had placed a name to them, it seemed so much harder to hide. 

Mingyu sensed the change in you, too, you were sure of it. He probably just thought you were mad at him for forcing you to go to the beach and then forcing you into the water you were clearly afraid of. 

He even apologized several times, even after you insisted you enjoyed your outing.

Kim Mingyu wasn’t the most observant person ever, and it showed now more than ever. 

He didn’t seem to notice how red your face got whenever he engulfed you in a hug, or how much you got entranced by his lips whenever he was talking. 

Things got a little easier on you when August came to an end and you found a new job that took up most of your time. 

Seeing less of Mingyu was a blessing and a curse. 

On one hand you missed him more than you should, but on the other hand, it meant you didn’t have to constantly be on guard around him. 

However, if you were being honest, you were sick of keeping it hidden. You hated the tension between the two of you. You hated tiptoeing around your feelings. 

You were truly conflicted. 

You needed to make the decision of admitting your feelings or keeping them hidden forever to save your friendship. 

Then again. . .the thought of Mingyu possibly returning those feelings came up. 

You thought of the late night laughter that filled your home whenever he stayed over. Talking about anything and everything until the sun was shining through your curtains. Finally collapsing on the bed, cuddling up because you both slept better when you were together. 

The way Mingyu showered you with gifts to show his affection. Buying you anything you eyed at the mall. Spoiling you with brunch outings and the occasional dinner at a fancy restaurant. 

You thought of all the failed dates you had been on. Mingyu was always there after them to cheer you up and repeat over and over again that you deserved better. 

You thought of HIS failed dates, which he always seemed to end early. One day he had admitted that he had rather been hanging out with you. 

Did all of this mean something? Or were you overthinking and being far too hopeful? 

_ 

The sound of a laugh track filled the silence in your dark bedroom. 

You were slumped against your pillows, eyes focused on the bright screen in front of you with bored eyes. 

It was a rerun of a popular comedy series you’d seen far too many times before, and it did nothing to swerve your thoughts away from your best friend. 

With a groan, you threw the heavy blankets off yourself, and padded down the hallway into the living room. 

Taking your cellphone off charge, you called in a takeout order. 

What better way to deal with your feelings than eating them?

You scrolled through your phone while you waited, taking note of the lack of texts from Mingyu. It had been two days since you’d last heard from him. You wanted to blame this on his busy schedule now that summer was over, but doubts clouded your mind. 

Great, I’m making it weird and now Mingyu doesn’t like hanging out with me anymore, you thought to yourself bitterly. 

Three sharp knocks sounded from the door, making you flinch. 

That was pretty fast, you thought as you made your way over to the door. 

“I didn’t think you would be here so soon! Sorry, give me a second.” You said, not looking up from where you were counting change. 

“Y/N.” 

Mingyu’s voice made you startle, and a few coins dropped to the floor. 

He looked exhausted. 

His hair was tousled like he’d just gotten out of bed. His eyes didn’t hold the spark of light they usually did. He was in his pajamas, a black sweatshirt that looked a little too small for him, and gray joggers that were a little too short. 

Despite his obvious distress, you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger over him for a few moments. . .after all, he still looked very attractive. 

You scolded yourself internally for thinking that, and for not being able to speak a word to him. 

The two of you continued to stare at each other for a few more seconds, before you shook your head to clear it. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked finally. 

Mingyu’s hands fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt before he finally just shoved them into his jogger pockets. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” He mumbled. “I figured, well. . .I know you’re mad at me right now for something, and I really can’t figure out why, and I just really miss you and I always sleep better with you.” 

You didn’t know what to say. You soaked up his words with wide eyes, mouth turned down into a frown. 

So you had been right when assuming he probably thought you were mad at him. 

Mingyu took your silence as a bad thing, and his posture slumped. 

“Please tell me what I did, Y/N. I want my best friend back.” 

Seeing Mingyu so defeated made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

You hadn’t wanted to make him feel guilty, especially when he’d done nothing wrong. This was all your fault, he had nothing to do with you distancing yourself. 

Deciding you’d rather be rejected than continue letting Mingyu beat himself up, you took a deep breath. 

“Mingyu, I’m not mad.” You started off, which made his head pop back up. 

“You’re not?” He asked. “Then. . .why have you been avoiding me?” 

You shuffled from one foot to another, biting your lip. 

It was now or never. 

“I have something to tell you.” You admitted, trying your best to keep eye contact with him. “I’ve been avoiding you because I’m scared.” 

Mingyu’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

“Scared? What, of me?” 

You shook your head. 

“No, not of you. More like. . .scared of what I feel for you.” You explained slowly.

“What do you feel for me, Y/N?” Mingyu prompted, confusion still etched across his tan face. 

Oh, why can’t he just get the hint! You groaned to yourself. 

“Mingyu, you make me feel. . .um, well. . .you take my breath away.” 

You didn’t like how cheesy that sounded, but it was the truth. 

“What’s that mean?” Mingyu questioned. “Take your breath away how?” 

“Take My Breath Away. . .you know, like the song.” Informed a voice behind Mingyu. 

The both of you gasped and Mingyu stumbled forward into your apartment before turning around with wide eyes. 

A young boy stood there with a smile on his face, the bag of takeout you had ordered gripped in his hand. 

“How long have you been there?!” You demanded, face flushing red. 

“Long enough to know that you’re trying to tell him you’re in love with him, but he doesn’t have a clue.” The boy replied. 

Face going even redder, you ripped the takeout away from him and shoved the correct change into his hands. 

You didn’t dare spare a glance at Mingyu as the boy bid you a goodnight. You slammed the door when he left, a scowl etched into your features. 

You knew he heard the boy. There was no way he couldn’t have heard him. 

He knew now. He knew you liked him. 

You sat the takeout down on your counter and started to mindlessly pull things out. 

He hadn’t said anything yet. Why was he being so quiet? 

You wished he would just say something to break the silent tension in the room. You wished he would change the subject to something lighter, or reject you and put you out of your misery. . .anything that would end this. 

“Y/N.” Mingyu finally said. 

Your hands slowed a bit, but you didn’t look up at him. 

You could feel him staring at you from where he still stood by the door. 

“Was that kid right?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

You put down a container of rice, hands shaking slightly. 

So he had heard, loud and clear. 

You cursed lightly under your breath.This wasn’t how this confession was supposed to go at all. 

“Yeah, he was right.” You confirmed with a sigh. 

You finally looked up at him. 

His eyes were wide in shock, his body tense. It didn’t look like he was breathing at all. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, afraid that everything was ruined now. You told yourself you should have just kept your mouth shut, and maybe your best friend wouldn’t be looking at you like you disgusted him. 

“I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but I’m in love with you, Mingyu.” You continued, voice shaking. “I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I understand if you want to stop hanging out.” 

The words hung in the air between the two of you. 

Mingyu didn’t even blink as he processed your confession. His face didn’t reveal a thing, which was nerve wracking to you. 

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” He said at last. 

You looked up in surprise. 

“It doesn’t?” You whispered in disbelief. 

“No, not at all.” He replied. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve been-“ 

Mingyu’s words were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

The man grumbled under his breath at the interruption, growing even more annoyed when he opened the door to find it was the takeout boy back again. 

“Forgot to give you your receipt.” He explained cheerfully. 

Mingyu snatched the paper from his hands with a mumbled thanks, going to shut the door, but was stopped by the boy. 

“Did you guys work it out?” The boy asked noisily. 

“Leave!” The two of you shouted together. 

Once the door was shut again, Mingyu ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. 

“What I was trying to say,” He breathed out. “Was that I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.” 

You truly didn’t believe you heard his words right. There was no way Mingyu felt the same way about you. 

But the completely sincere look on his face said otherwise. 

All the times you told yourself that you were being stupid for overthinking his actions. . .all the times you scolded yourself for thinking he could feel the same. . .you were wrong. 

You had called Mingyu the oblivious one, but it seemed you had been just as oblivious as he had. 

“You feel the same?” You mumbled breathlessly. “You feel the same. . .you feel the same!”

You surged forward, nearly knocking over the container of rice, and threw your arms around his torso. 

He let out a laugh, one that you had missed so much, and returned your embrace. 

“Y/N?” His soft voice made you tilt your head up to look at him. 

You hummed, encouraging him to go on. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The pink hue dusting his cheeks made your heart swell.

Heart thudding in your chest with excitement, you just nodded, unable to give a verbal reply. 

His head tilted down slowly, his lips grazing yours for a moment before he committed fully. 

Your eyes closed as your lips pressed against his, and you let out a breath through your nose, contentment settling in your chest. 

It was quick, not anything spectacular for a first kiss, but to the both of you, it was everything. 

Mingyu’s forehead rested against yours, both of your eyes still closed. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for years.” He murmured. 

A grin blossomed across your face and you giggled. 

“Well, now you can do it whenever you want.” You promised.

At this, Mingyu dipped down into another quick kiss, and another after that. 

You giggled in between his quick pecks, which then dissolved into full on laughter as he peppered your face with kisses. 

“Mingyu! You’re getting my face all wet!!” You exclaimed through bursts of laughter. 

Mingyu pulled away after a few more pecks, a playful look in his eyes. 

“Oh, one more thing,” He said after watching you wipe your face off. “Is it too late to say I haven’t heard the song Take My Breath Away?” 

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 3

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I ao3

    The door to his hotel room closed with a hum and a soft click of an automatic lock. This time, he did take the cab, walking back would give him way too much time to really think about what Misty had said. It made Takemura feel like a coward, running away from her like that, but he couldn't help it. If he stayed there any longer, he’d fall apart. Right in front of her, all the pieces he’s been so desperate to hold together for the last few months would disassemble and there’d be nobody to pick him back up.

    Takemura threw the heavy wool coat onto the still pristine bed, the impact creating a small sea of wrinkles on the otherwise perfectly straightened linen. The hotel he chose was no Konpeki Plaza, but it was still far from the sleazy, off the road (and off the radar) motels he had a chance to familiarize himself with during his last stay in Night City. The room, with its generic, yet tasteful decor remained perfectly impersonal, walls devoid of any stains, no blood or other fluids on the dark carpet, fresh towels handcrafted into fantastical shapes neatly tucked on the bed. The only thing that made it feel lived in was a fainting fragrance of cologne, left behind by the previous guest.

    Takemura paced around the room for a few minutes before finally setting himself on the chair in the corner of the room. Whatever he was hoping he’d achieve by going to V’s funeral, he didn’t feel it. The guilt was still there. Just a few months ago he was so convinced that he’d be able to offer her an alternative, one that so few of this world could even dream of having access to, and she declined. He didn’t understand it then, but he did now. Strangely, this realization gave way to a different thought, one that he’d been trying to push as far back into his minds as possible, with little success. It wasn’t only V that Arasaka has failed. For the first time in his life, Takemura almost felt like Arasaka had also failed him.

    He couldn't really blame the company for not having the tech that is yet to be created, or for doctors and scientists who’d only sight and shake their heads. Those six months ago it finally hit him that even Arasaka has its limits, despite their far-fetched attempts to prove otherwise. What he didn’t understand was the way he was so decisively removed from the inner circle of the Arasaka family, transferred to a city almost 700km away from Tokyo, and given a job that he wasn’t suitable to do, his knowledge steaming from experience and practice. After all, he was a soldier, not a clerk. All he wanted was to continue serving, a modest gratification for the lengths he went to in order to uncover Yorinobu’s plot. V would certainly say that he deserved more. Takemura wouldn’t dare, even within the confines of his own mind.

    After a moment of hesitation, he pulled up his comms. It was stupid. Pointless. Above all, it probably wouldn’t even work, but despite all of that, he still found himself selecting V’s number. Before he knew it, a steady melody of an awaiting call rang in his ears. At least the number hasn’t been disconnected. Yet.

    Takemura didn’t know what he was expecting, exactly. There was nobody to pick up the phone anymore, and yet he was hoping that calling V’s number this one time would make up for all the times he didn't. Takemura let out a deep sigh, gestured to end the call and soon was left with an empty screen with basic contact information. And yet, when he now looked at it, it wasn’t empty at all.

    How on Earth didn’t he notice it before? He checked the date again, unable to believe that for all the time he spent staring at this one specific entry of his long contact list, he didn’t notice this aggressively yellow icon, gleaming next to V’s icon on his interface. Was it even possible that he missed it? What was he doing a little over three months ago, anyway?

    He barely remembered, that period of his life little more than a blur. Should he even open it now? Wouldn't it merely be opening old wounds, ones that even time didn’t seem to heal? After all, Takemura doubted there was anything V could say to him that’d push him from the path he found himself walking. There was no turning back, not when he was nearing the end of it, but he still opened the voice message.

    “Hey Takemura, it’s V. Been a while, huh? You must be back home already, bathing in all that Arasaka glory. Is the local cuisine as good as you remembered? I’m still waiting for you to show me that famed real food of yours. Onigiri with...what was it again? Umeboshi? Hope I’m not butchering the nomenclature too much. Anyway, I came back to Night City, moved in with Judy shortly after. I didn’t want to rush things with her, but considering the circumstances, it just felt right. Did I even tell you about her? Met her on the job and we clicked right away. You’d like her, I’m sure.

    I’ve been doing some small jobs, mostly for friends, in between dodging Viktor like the plague, but, uh...there came a time I couldn’t do either anymore. It was Judy who practically dragged me to his clinic and then the whole carousel I’ve been so desperately running away from started rollin’. Scans, meds, all of that, at first it felt like I was back at the Arasaka clinic, except Viktor actually listened to me and gave me some fuckin’ room. He has me on a cocktail of meds that get me through the day, but honestly...I hate seeing that expression on his face every time I come see him. I know he’s tryin’ to hide it, but between you and me, he’s doing a pretty shit job.

    Anyway, enough of me talkin’...I feel that maybe we didn’t end things on the right foot that time at the clinic. I know you wanted what you think was best for me, but you know what? Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.”

    The message ended with a beep and Takemura just sat there, eyes fixed on the ground. And then he played it again. And again.

    Halfway through the third, he heard a knock on the door. One quick scan of the people behind it told him it wasn’t housekeeping, so did the urgency apparent in the way his visitors made the door shake slightly with the impact. He stood up and walked to the door, letting the thick carpet muffle his footsteps. Before opening, he grabbed a gun from his coat and tucked it behind his belt, just to be safe.

    Two men stood at the door, a familiar signature written seemingly all over them. Takemura wouldn’t say he was relieved upon seeing them, though. Not at all.

    “Can I help you with something, gentleman?” he asked, switching to Japanese, just for politeness' sake.

    “You are to come with us.” the shorter one said, eyes obscured by the blue-tinted glasses he wore.

    “That is not possible. My flight leaves soon and I am afraid I will miss it if I take any detours.”

    “Takemura-san,” the man said, a hint of a smile appearing on his otherwise expressionless face. “this is not a request. Arasaka-dono wishes to speak with you and I assure you, you wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

    He was right. Takemura wouldn’t.

    “Alright then, allow me to just grab my…”

    “That isn’t necessary. We will take care of your luggage.”

    Takemura felt his stomach drop, the same uncomfortable feeling one has when walking down the stairs and missing a step. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but instincts were often hard to fool and the man in front of him didn’t inspire any warm feelings in his heart. Not many people working at Arasaka did, but as long as he stayed in line, he felt safe. Only now, when he had crossed it, he felt how thin it truly was. And how much he’s lost his edge.

    Takemura turned back to grab his coat and put it on, but instead of bringing him comfort, the heavy material felt as if it was bringing him down. Something weird seemed to be happening with his optics too, the image glitching every few steps. He wouldn’t show it, though, walking out of the hotel with his head held high and mind racing to come up with various scenarios of how he should proceed.

    The car was parked right next to the main entrance. One of the men opened its door to let him in, but Takemura stopped abruptly, hit with an all too familiar feeling. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of cold sweat covered his brow. Takemura reached out to steady himself on the doorframe and felt one of Arasaka henchmen lean in behind him, the barrel of a gun digging into his ribs and a hand reaching for Takemura’s own weapon, still tucked behind his belt.

    “Quite a kick, right? Now, let’s not make a scene here.”

    “I thought I was to talk with Arasaka-dono.”

    “You will, but first, let us drive to a more suitable place.”

                                                                ***

    Takemura doubted that an abandoned parking lot in North Oaks is a place suitable for anything, especially a conversation, but at this point, he didn’t have much to say on the matter. Before they drove into Westbrook, his interface was completely gone and all he could rely on were his senses, devoid of the advantages implants previously gave him. Takemura could feel cyberwithrawal symptoms setting in, slowly building up into the most unpleasant crescendo. Then again, with the way his night was going, maybe he won’t live long enough to have to suffer through it.

    “What are we doing here?” Takemura asked after they all got out of the car. The driver, too, slightly older than his companions, with a steel hand obscured by a long sleeve of his coat. The place was scarcely lit, only one of the big, industrial lamps still working, providing a shaky, unreliable source of light right where they were standing, the three men next to each other, Takemura facing them from a short distance of maybe three meters.

    The driver stepped forward and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. Takemura would surely feel his body tense at the sight if he wasn’t trembling so much at that point. To his surprise, the man didn’t pull out a gun to shoot him with, but a shard. Without any additional explanation, he plugged it in and his hard stare vanished, replaced by a stream of data reflecting on his eyes.

    “Takemura.” the proxy said, unintentionally mimicking Saburo’s voice.

    “Arasaka-dono.” Takemura grit his teeth and bowed to greet the men, fists clenching at his sides to stop his hands from shaking.

    “I am sure you know why you find yourself here. If it is any consolation, it is not only you that can be blamed for your current position. Hanako made a grave mistake asking you to speak to that woman. She planted a seed of doubt into your heart, one that soon grew into a weed and started eating away at your soul. There is a way to remedy that, however. You can still reclaim your honor by finishing what you started in Takamatsu. Right here, right now. There is no need for you to come back to Japan.”

    “Arasaka-dono, I…” Takemura started, but the man raised his hand, silencing him in one gesture.

    “Ishihara here will be your second, should your hand falter. I do not wish for you to suffer.” the proxy turned to the man to his left, the one with the glasses, and gave him a small nod. He stepped forward, revealing a small package he’d been holding, and placed it on the ground in front of Takemura, who immediately knew what it was. He recognized the maroon silk. As he looked back up at the three men, they didn’t move. They simply waited.

    And so Takemura kneeled, eyes fixed on the silk-wrapped sword in front of him. He leaned forward, carefully unwrapping the material until the blade laid bare, waiting for Takemura to grab its handle. Ishihara moved behind him, footsteps barely audible on the concrete floor.

    “You served the Arasaka family well through the years, but even a strong man like you is not immune to change or destructive influence. You surely understand that this is the only way.”

    Takemura did not see it like that. To go on his own terms, reconciled with his mistakes, that was the death he hoped he’d face. This felt like theatrics, a lot of effort put into making him feel like he had a choice where there was none. Takemura allowed his gaze to leave the proxy’s face and look beyond the guards, resting his eyes on the wall so densely covered with graffiti that none of it was legible. A vine crept up the stone, forcing its way into the cracked surface, destroying it even further in its primal pursuit of expansion. Below that, a pair of yellowish, feline eyes gleamed, just outside the circle of light.

    Despite everything, I feel free. You should try that sometime.

    “I do.” Takemura turned his head to the side slightly, just enough to see Ishihara standing behind him, his own sword in hand. Will he wait for Takemura to plunge the blade into his abdomen and only then make the cut? Or will he swing the weapon as soon as Takemura reaches for the wakizashi, intent clear enough in that simple gesture? He didn’t know, but Takemura wasn’t in any position to make bets.

    He leaned down and allowed his hand to reach for the wakizashi, still looking to his left. As expected, just as his fingers brushed the wooden handle of the sword, Ishihara swung his own, aiming for Takemura’s neck. The man reacted on instinct, throwing his arm to block the blade while his other hand grabbed the sword in front of him, fingers tightly closing around the handle. Takemura felt Ishihara’s powerful cut slice through skin and muscle, only stopping at the chrome reinforced bone. The blood soaked his sleeve almost instantly, splatters staining both of their faces, but Takemura grit his teeth and turned, blocking and forcefully guiding Ishihara’s blade away from himself, drastically widening the cut as he lunged forward to drive the wakizashi through the Arasaka agent’s chest. It went in with a grisly, wet sound of tearing flesh and bone. Takemura didn’t stop and turned once more, ignoring his opponent's desperate gasps, dragging Ishihara’s already limping body along, shielding himself from incoming bullets.

    The echo of shots rang wide through the empty parking lot as Takemura practically ran forward, pushing the already dead man in front of him with his full body weight. When his opponent realized he’ll have to reload soon, he took a few steps back, a glimpse of fear going through his face as he wrestled with the magazine. What it was he saw in his eyes that scared him so much, Takemura did not know, but seizing the occasion, he retracted the blade from Ishihara’s body, letting it drop onto the ground like a sack of flour, and lunged forward. Just as their bodies met, the other henchmen managed to fire, but only once before his dominant hand was sliced off in one strike, strong enough to sever the tissue and the wires that held it together. The man screamed as he saw his arm fall to the ground, but before the sound had the chance to echo off the ruined walls, it was cut short.

     Takemura could already feel his left arm lose sensation, growing weak and limp with every ounce of blood he kept losing, but it didn’t matter now, nor did the chills or the way his entire body rebelled against being cut off from augmentations so abruptly.

    The proxy didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, still standing those few meters in front of Takemura. He was armed, holster clearly visible at his hip, but he didn’t draw the gun. Takemura turned to face him, adrenaline still rushing through his veins and keeping him upright. Knowing it won’t be for much longer, Takemura made a few steps forward and stopped, weapon still in hand, his other arm hanging uselessly at his side.

    The proxy hummed.

    “An honorable death or a lifetime of shame. It greatly saddens me that you, of all people, chose wrong.”

    And just like that, the conversation was over.

    Takemura didn’t wait until the proxy fully regained awareness of his surroundings. Hardly honorable, but he doubted he could sink any lower and with the state he was in, letting the man come to his senses would almost certainly mean death.

    Cursing under his breath, Takemura went over to the agent’s bodies and patted them down, but didn’t find what he was looking for. He stood back up and turned to the car, feeling his legs grow weaker with every step. He somehow managed to drag himself onto the driver’s seat and lean to the side to open the glove compartment, throwing the bloodied wakizashi onto the passenger's seat. Dark spots obscuring his vision, Takemura was going in blind, frantically searching for the injector with his good hand. The wave of relief he felt when his blood-soaked fingers finally landed on the familiar shape was almost enough to knock him out on its own, but he forced himself to power through. Tearing off the safety lid with his teeth, he stabbed himself in the chest with it and pushed the plug.

    The effect was immediate. Another rush of adrenaline made it feel like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, it’s breathless beating throbbing in his temples, but the darkness creeping up on him disappeared. Takemura knew the effect wouldn’t last long, but he hoped it’d be enough to at least pull up a first aid kit from under the passenger's seat. When Takemura finally managed to rid himself of the coat and the jacket beneath it, he realized the extent of the damage. His arm looked bad. Really bad. If not for all the blood, he’d surely be able to see  bone and wiring, just barely keeping the limb together. His personal link was shredded, that’s for sure. The coagulants he tried using a second before clearly not working the way they were supposed to, Takemura tried bandaging his arm with one hand and somewhat succeeded, if not for the bright, red blood that soaked through the second he finished tying the knot.

    With a trembling hand, Takemura started typing in the address but found himself missing every other letter, too unsteady to hit them right, smearing blood all over the little screen. The autopilot seemed to take the hint, though, and for the first time in his life, Takemura was grateful for the existence of autocorrect. He confirmed the address and clenched his fingers around the wheel. He’ll try driving it for as long as he can, he told himself, but if he passes out on the way at least there’s a chance to roll up at the door of someone who knows what to do with the body.

    Takemura didn’t remember much of the ride, his hand half-heartedly sliding in the steering wheel, smearing the blood on the fine, fair leather. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness, head swimming with every sharp turn the car took. Eyes on the road, he kept telling himself, fingers clenching on the wheel to the point where it was almost painful.

    After what felt like ages, the car pulled up into the familiar alley and stopped, a cheery voice announcing that he had arrived at his destination. Takemura unfastened the seatbelt and almost fell onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding tripping over the edge of the car by grabbing the open door at the last moment to steady himself. He could see people around him, their terrified glances, but no one moved to help him. Those last few meters felt like a lucid, colorful dream. Takemura could hardly walk straight at that point, the world around him akin to a badly cut film. Maneki nekos waving their little, mechanical paws. Scent of incense so sharp it was almost unpleasant. Porcelain set falling to the ground, breaking into hundreds little pieces, impossible to put back together. And a beautiful carpet, no doubt woven by hand, surely only a human could put colors and patterns and threads together so beautifully. Such a waste, he thought before he finally gave in.

    Misty will never get the blood out.

[hatsukeii]

OH MY GOD I JUST HAD A GENIUS SONGFIC IDEA

I am once again disregarding requests-

I’m sorry I love you guys but I HAVE TO DO THIS

Due to popular demand via a vote on instagram, I have decided who to write about:DDD

Disclaimer: This fic is inspired by a Levi one I’ve read before, I don’t remember the author but if you find them or they find me props to you!!

Remember When // Modern!Todoroki Shouto x reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Cursing, idk if this is a warning but aged up characters

Summary: In a world where everyone is reincarnated, your search to find someone special ends somewhere nostalgic.

The memories shouldn’t stay.

They just shouldn’t.

That’s not how the world works.

What was supposed to happen, was you were supposed to die, forget everything, and get reborn. Start a new life, with a new face, meet new people, fall in love all over again, get married, have kids, grow old, die, repeat.

So why didn’t that happen to you too?

Why did all the memories come flooding right back the second you turned three? Why did you look the exact same? Throughout your teenage years, you desperately tried to get rid of everyone in your memories. Mina, Bakugou, Deku, Kaminari, Jirou, and most importantly, Todoroki.

Ah, Todoroki Shouto, your first and last love. How could you forget him?

For fifteen years of your life, you’ve been trying desperately to find him. 

But who’s to say he remembers you too? 

That possibility didn’t stop you from seeking out every opportunity to figure out whether he was still the Todoroki you used to know. The Todoroki you used to love so dearly. You prayed every night, that you would finally meet him again, not in your dreams, but in real life. No matter how hard you tried to burn the memory of him out of your mind, he just wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t let go of how he stared at you, those heterochromatic eyes staring into your soul as it lit on fire. You craved to feel his hand on your cheek, his lips on your head, his arms around your waist, you wanted it all back. It made you feel greedy, it did, but could anyone blame you? You had everything taken away from you the minute he died. You wished to pass away, so you could forget about him and start a new life, but ended up with this mess. Your emotions are hard to suppress. You’re just as in love with Todoroki Shouto as you were in another life. 

You were unlucky to be reborn like this, all the memories from your past life mixed with new ones. The school days at UA high, fighting villains alongside your best friends. The day you got married. The day you had kids. It was terrible, having those images in your mind, but being unable to fulfil the hunger and constant longing to do it all over again.

Walking down the street, you stop at a cafe. It’s a really nice cafe. Reminds you of the one you used to work part time at in your past life. Warm, dim ceiling lights, timber wall lining, Swiss cheese plants, a nice little island where baristas were busing brewing up steaming hot mugs of coffee, plush couch seats and wooden chairs accompanied with marble tables, and a little platform for occasional guests that would perform. The entire cafe radiates a nice vibe. It reminds you of what you used to have. Giving yourself a tiny grin, you push the door open, letting the little bells ring. Grabbing a couch seat, you settle yourself down, putting your headphones on in an effort to block out the noise other customers were making. “Good evening, miss. Would you like anything? I suppose you wouldn’t want coffee at such a late hour.” You position one of the sides behind your ear. What time is it? You bring your phone up to your face, squinting a bit at the bright screen, showing 7:15 in bold, white numbers. “It’s fine, I’ll just have a latte and your apple pie.” The waitress looks at you in confusion. “Miss, I haven’t given you the menu yet?” Eyes widening, you go silent, before plastering a smile on your face. “Regular, just not at night.” Did that convince her? The waitress bites her lip, tilting her head a bit, before jotting down the order and shuffling away quickly. 

The cafe is buzzing with excitement, talks of a band performing in a bit filling the air of the cozy space. You roll your eyes, not wanting to deal with it. You just got back from five lectures that you surely didn’t enjoy. The cafe is supposed to be a way for you to get some downtime, not for a band to ruin the peaceful atmosphere. Pulling your headphone back onto your ear, you mindlessly go through your phone, bored and uninterested in anything on your timeline. Every single post is about your friends with their valentines date. To you, valentines is truly, the worst thing to possibly celebrate. Not only is it is about a man that was tortured and eventually killed, it is also a reminder, that you’ll never be able to love someone normally because of those stupid, idiotic, utterly pointless memories that held you back. It doesn’t matter how many people your friends set you up with. You’ve had to reject over eight guys you were set up with, all because you simply can’t let go of Todoroki. It doesn’t matter whether he remembers, as long as you do, you’ll never be free of this hell. You get made fun of for being too uptight, too picky, too dense, when in reality you can’t help it at all. Whenever you even have the slightest thought of a different guy, Todoroki’s name plays in your mind like a broken record. Thinking about it now, maybe you don’t want to leave the memories behind. Maybe you want to remember them, no matter how annoying, shitty, and irritating they can be. Losing them would be like losing a part of yourself, and you didn’t want that.

“Miss, the latte, and the apple pie. Enjoy your food.” Picking up the tiny spoon, you fiddle around with the utensil, admiring it in all its simplicity. It isn’t a peculiar spoon or anything, just a normal coffee spoon that has a gold brimmed green end. Sticking it into the latte, you give the drink a good stir, not even paying attention to the coffee foam art that was there a second ago. Leading the brim of the cup to your lips, you carefully take a sip of the hot liquid. Nothing about it has changed. It tastes just as good as when you worked here. If only you could introduce this to Todoroki all over again. Eyeing the pie with lidded eyes, you cut out a chunk, taking it into your mouth as you reminisced the days, where you would feed him the exact pie. It was pretty impossible not to feel nostalgic in this place. Way too many memories were made here. First dates, first kisses, first mini concerts, this was like a shrine of key events in your past life. You continue to savour the rest of your food, saving the drink for last. Exhaustion is taking over as you hear the sound of cheering, a guitar strum, and a half recognisable voice. Slumping into the couch, you doze off, headphones slowly falling off. From onstage, heterochromatic eyes stare at your figure, mouth hanging as the band sets up their instruments.

He finally found you.

After all these years, he finally found you.

Never has he ever been so thankful for fate.

His situation was the same as yours. He was reborn, then regained memories from his past life, except he was never able to get a certain someone out of his head. For years, he performed at this particular cafe, hoping you would be there to watch him. He hasn’t been able to fall in love with anyone, despite having hundreds of fangirls craving for his hand in marriage. He spent immeasurable amounts of time delving deep into those past memories, trying to scrape together the song you oh so loved to listen to. The song that represented your life with him. Hours upon hours of bass practising, just for the sake of reuniting with you. Uncertainties burdened him night after night. What if you’ve already become a different person? Would all his work have been for nothing? Would the only place he can ever meet you again be his dreams, and the piles of the memories he still had with you? All those doubts were washed away with the look he gave you. That was definitely the (Y/N) he knew. From the iconic band hoodie, to the order of the cafe’s secret apple pie and latte. That was undoubtedly you.

“Guys, please let me play one song first.”

“Hah? Todoroki, you’re seriously changing it now?”

“Do me a favour, would you? Let me do that song first?”

The drummer’s eyes widened in realisation. 

“O-oh! Yeah, sure thing. Good luck, you get one shot.”

Hands on the mic, the cafe goes silent as the first riff comes on.

Headphones fully slipping off your ears and onto your neck, your ears are no longer protected from outside noises.

This song.

Letting your eyes flutter open, you shake your head, rubbing your eyes a bit from your little nap. Adjusting your headphones to hang nicely around your neck, you sit up from your position, steadying yourself with your hands. How long have you been asleep for? You groggily grab for your phone, wincing yet again at the bright light that shone through. You weren’t even able to fully comprehend the numbers on your screen, when a voice rang loud and clear.

“Thought I saw your shadow under the door,”

This song, I remember it.

What is this? You absolutely love it. The way the lyrics resemble a long lost friendship, it makes your heart clench with every word. You pull your phone up, trying to Shazam the lyrics. The song sounds familiar, yet so, so different from anything you’ve heard before. Typing in the lyrics rapidly, your search fails as nothing comes up. 

Dammit, what is this?

“I can never tell what’s real anymore, anymore, anymore.”

There’s no way. It has to be a real song. You swear on your life you’ve heard it somewhere. It’s lingering in the back of your mind, waiting for the right time to pop out. Cold sweat drips from your forehead as you go through all the songs you know. Your head hurts, your sight is blurry. Hands go up to grab your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, your phone dropping onto the plush couch.

No, I know this, I definitely do.

“It seems so long, it seems so long,“

Colours flash in front of your shut eyelids, almost giving you an epilepsy. Your mind travels into those god forsaken memories from your past life. Mina, Jirou, Kirishima, Bakugou, Deku, Todoroki, everything crashes right down on you. Panting heavily, you grab the cup of coffee, downing it in one go, hoping it helps with easing your mind. An image flashes in your head, sending jolts to your body. You and Todoroki in a cafe, listening to Wallows perform for the first time. That was your first date. Remember When became your song that night. It was a staple of your relationship. It was like the background music of your life story. Was there no Wallows now? The nostalgia that song brought you was immeasurable, yet you didn’t know it would have such an effect on you. 

Oh my god.

A moment of epiphany hits you like a truck.

“All the places I’ve returned to,”

“All the faces that remind you,”

Letting your head spring up, your eyes dart around the cafe, desperately trying to find where the song is playing from. You should know fully well it’s coming from the band that is intriguing the audience excellently. However, you’re still in a state of complete shock, refusing to believe your ears. The familiar tune resonates in the cafe, a silky voice serenading couples in the audience.

It’s him.

Your eyes lock onto the band.

Heterochromatic irises stare back at your watery ones. 

He looks just as good as before. His hair is still groomed, red and white parting in the middle. His turquoise eye shines with the gloss of tears as he sings his heart out on the stage, letting the tears roll down his cheeks freely. 

Covering your mouth with a shaky hand, tears freely fall from your eyelids as your mind goes blank. You can’t seem to peel your eyes off him. Your heart beats wildly as you let out a tiny gasp.

It doesn’t matter if the two of you only just met. At a cafe. 

Right now, you’re looking at someone you’ve known your entire life, and it feels ethereal.

I found you.

Finally.

Do you remember this?

Do you remember when we were the ones watching?

References:

Remember When- Wallows

Lyrics to said song

Cafe interior inspo lmao

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @trashcanweeb @burnt-tomato @tiger1719 @bokutokoutarou @poppirocks @just-another-bored-writer @justachillgirl @itmekisuu @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @skyeackermans @macaronnv @mariechan123 @xonfusedsoul​ @inlwlevi​ @talks-a-lot-of-stuff​ @ewfilthymundane​ @emsvegetables @estherwritess @shoutsukii @sakusasgarbage @agentvicinity @thirstyvolleyballhoe @artsamber @sneezefiction

Feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

For once I’m proud of something I wrote, please feel free to give me feedback, hope you like reading this<3

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Boys and Girls

Inspired by Boys and Girls by Alabama Shakes. A little sweet birthday blurb/mini fic. 

I am taking commissions by the way!

Calum likes to take it easy on his birthday. And she’s got a sweet little plan. 

___________

I’m rescuing you from the bars tonight. 11 pm sharp. 

Calum relays the message to Ashton, the man in charge of climbing-into-birthday-hours festivities. Calum’s birthday celebrations usually only went for a day. He liked having some time to be at peace during the day on his actual birthday. The idea of pre-graming his birthday the night before and then having a nice dinner the day of was ideal to appease the friend group that never fully needed a reason to go out onto the town. 

Ashton nods though at Calum’s request. “You know the party will be rolling on for a while if you ever care to rejoin us.”

“I’m aware,” Calum returns as his phone shakes again with a message from her. Wear something cozy too.

This is the sort of deal people get when they’re getting kidnapped you know, he replies with a grin on his face. 

Trust me, this is not the warning a kidnapper gives. 

Any clue on what’s going down?

No. No clues. 

That’s the last time Calum’s phone shakes from her. He assumes it might be work and doesn’t bombard her with any more messages. Though he does think it’s unfair, he doesn’t want to fully ruin whatever surprise she has planned. Both of them have been friends ever since Calum spilled his drink in the cafe that she worked. She wheeled the mop out with a laugh as Calum apologized profusely. 

“Accidents happen. Let me get you a refill.” She covered the spill, or at least the majority of it, up with the dingy yellow bucket, before going back behind the counter and washing her hands. The machines kicked back to life. She personally walked the drink over to him. 

“I swear I’m not this much of a klutz most days,” Calum sighed. 

“Well, I am. So let me tell you, it’s not the end of the world. Drink your coffee. The caffeine will get those motor skills right again.”

Calum was thankful that at this time of the day the cafe wasn’t busy or else the morning crowd running to get their caffeine before their days started would not have been pleased with his accident. After that, Calum returned to the cafe more regularly. She had memorized his order so that on sight she had the card reader ready as she ran down the specifics.  They chatted during her breaks sometimes. They grabbed lunch at the little Mexican restaurant across the street during her lunch break.

She was always planning something, Calum had learned. When he mentioned Duke, on more than one occasion, she asked about his birthday and what kind of toys and treats he liked. The questions had not prepared him for when she knocked on his door about mid-morning three weeks later with a huge basket in her hands. It was filled with toys, treats, and a couple other necessities like doggy bags and training pads. It didn’t stop her from mailing him flowers on Valentine’s Day with a note that read, Love sucks. But you don’t. So here are some flowers. Calum still uses that notecard a bookmark in all the random novels and collections of poetry that he reads. 

****************

The bars are packed; the streets are buzzing with people and heels clicking and loud laughter. It’s to be expected on a Friday night in a city is constantly on. Calum keeps a close eye on the time. He doesn’t dare want to miss his rendezvous time. He promised to share his location at 10:00 and again at 10:30 so she could figure how far into the city his friends had carried him. It’s early now, just barely ticking past 9 pm. They agreed to take the night slow so that everyone could actually remember ringing in the birthday and so Calum wouldn’t be sloppy when she came to get him. 

The first sip of alcohol burns a little--it’s not great. Calum screws his face up and wants to ask who the hell ordered the first round. But a mixed drink is slipped into his hands soon after. The nearly sour taste is gone under the slight fizz of his new concoction. They're ushered upstairs to VIP, hands stamped as they go. From above, Calum can see the mass of bodies on the floor below. He watches them, swaying collective in the first haze of alcohol slowly dulling his senses. 

The lights strobe, flashing reds, yellows, and purples across his face. Calum doesn’t really pay attention, attempting to suck in the smell of sweat and old alcohol. He lets the buzzing of the speakers blasting music crawl into his ear, peel back his eardrum and nestle into his brain. He takes another sip, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest. Laughter erupts from behind him and he turns to rejoin civilization, the collection of his friends settling onto couches. 

Calum nurses the drink until they decide to leave. He checks his phone again to see the time. 10 pm. They wonder for just a block before landing another bar. This one smaller, more intimate. When the whole group settles into a booth, Calum pulls up her thread. He slides right under the message bar and taps on the small Google Maps icon. It takes a moment before his GPS locates the address and he taps for it to send. 

She responds with the thumbs-up emoji before another one lights up his screen. I’m actually not too far from there. Let me know if you guys wander to the strip club. 

Calum can almost hear the sarcastic lilt, the little giggle she’d give if this were in person. There would be a seriousness to her face though. She’d laugh but her tone always told on her. Always said that she wasn’t truly joking. I won’t. Unless you’re working tonight, which means I have to, of course, support you.

I do not have the body for a stripper. But thanks for the vote of confidence you goober.

A can clinks on the table and Calum looks up. He recognizes that can anywhere and grins. “Thanks.”

It’s here, when the group shimmies themselves out onto the dancefloor, that Calum knows they won’t be heading anywhere else. He calls for a quick breather and leans against the booth and finds his phone. I think we’re here for the rest of the night. It’s 10:48 when he sends the text and pockets his phone again. He spies Luke attempting to pass along the wave but no one bites and he laughs into his can. 

One of their photographers and good friend walks over. “You waiting for someone or enjoying your birthday?”

“Both,” Calum returns, still grinning. He can feel his cheeks splitting a little with the slightly tipsy laughter that shakes him. Ashton’s attempts at teaching his dance are going poorly, but the older man refuses to give up. 

“Easy there big fella,” Calum bellows when another friend almost goes face-first into the floor. Calum helps him steady. “Dancing is not for you.”

They laugh in return. “Maybe not. No.”

Calum feels the shake in his pocket of his phone. He gives his goodbyes, though most of them don’t hear or don’t really acknowledge his parting. It’s 11:00 pm sharp when he steps outside and reads her text. Outside. He spies her, leaning against the front of her car. And he knows it’s her thanks to the banana colored leather jacket. She’s worn it almost every day it seemed that he’s known her. 

It was different for sure and it was starting to show it’s length of wear. But she wore it all the same and didn’t care. He checked the size once, plans brewing to maybe replace it with something similar or get another one. He spied one that was burgundy that he thought she might like. He wasn’t sure, but the cropped jacket had all the chains it could handle and he knew she like the zipper and chains. 

When he gets closer, she runs over and wraps her arms around his middle. “Hey,” he whispers, encasing her waist with his arms. 

“Hey,” she grins. They remain close, swaying a bit with the hug, for a few minutes. She pulls back first. Her smile is bright in the neon lights of the bar. “It’s a bit of a drive. But I brought snacks!”

Calum nods. “Snacks are good.” They walk to her car, though it’s not that far with his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. “What’s in store for me?”

“Just you wait and see.” 

Calum can see Duke when he cracks open the door, curled up in her backseat. “How’d you get into my house?”

“You gave me a spare key you idiot. He’s a sleepy boy, so keep your voice down.” Calum is careful as he picks up Duke before settling into the passenger seat. The windows are cracked and when she finally gets up onto the interstate, Calum lets the breeze whip across his face, one hand gently petting at Duke’s head. 

Her radio plays quietly, much better compared to the rattle of the clubs where he couldn’t hear his own voice talking. The moonlight is bright on the clear night and even though the lights are polluting the sky, Calum makes a point to follow the moon as they zoom south on 110. As they pass buildings, Calum notes which windows are bright and which ones are dark. He wonders what’s happening there. If someone is gearing up for a late-night binge or if they are getting ready for the day ahead of them. What does it feel like to have a job where the clock starts dead in the night and ends when the morning sun has skirted around the horizon? The same could be said for his job, for his line of living but it’s different. He gets a break and snaps back to reality here and there. 

“Thanks for letting me kidnap you,” she says, as they get stuck behind just a small bit of traffic. 

“You told me that wasn’t a warning that kidnappers gave.”

“It is. But I never said I wasn’t a kidnapped. Besides you’re a grown man, is it still kidnapping? What’s the version for adults being snatched up?”

“I’m not The Google,” Calum retorts before pulling out his phone. For a brief moment he wonders if he should actually Google this question. The search history would not look good if something were to happen. But he knows nothing will. 

“According to The Google,” Calum starts, “‘A kidnapping does not have to include a child. To kidnap is to take someone illegally by force, whether they be adult or child.’ So, to answer your question, yes, it is.”

“The Google has spoken.”

Putting his phone into the empty cup holder, Calum reaches for the dial on her stereo. “Birthday rights?” he asks before touching the dial.

“You know you’re the only one that control the radio even if I’m driving. I’d murder anyone else.”

“I’d be careful about that kind of stuff. Duke is sensitive about that.”

“It’s not like I said I’d murder you. And if I did, I would steal Duke and run away.”

Calum squawks his laughter, wanting to hit her leg gently but reframing because of her driving. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

“Duke would be the only one that would know. He’d rat me out. And normally, I’d say kill all the witness but I can’t in this situation.”

Calum just watches her in disbelief. The lights of the highway pass over her skin in patches. “God bless the person that snatches you up,” he murmurs. She looks at him, a bit of a glare and her lower lip rolls out. But then she laughs before turning her attention back to the road. “Where are those snacks?” he asks. 

She throws her thumb over her shoulder and Calum twists, to find a reusable bag full of snacks. He grabs the bag of cheez-its on top and pops open the mostly air-filled bag. The cheese dust falls a little and Calum makes sure to lean a little over Duke’s sleeping figure. The first bag goes faster than Calum cares to admit and when he goes back for another bag, she laughs. “How drunk are you?”

“I had a shot and two drinks!” he defends, popping open the second bag too. “So bite me.”

It’s when they find the shore and Calum catches the crashing of the waves that he starts to worry. No beach can be open at 11:53 at night. But as they near and he peers the sign, stating they’re 24 hours, he swallows back down the protest. The whole boardwalk is alive though. He can see the lights reflecting off the water and the line of neon lights. People are walking in and out of the dive bars and pups. “You know we could’ve gone to Santa Monica for the beach?” he returns. 

“Oh, c’mon that was a nice drive.”

He nods, taking her hand for a brief moment. They always have nice drives. Just feeling the wind and talking about everything under the sun. His eyes dance across the scenery. Duke’s aroused awake but Calum holds him close. She goes around to the trunk and it’s only the sound of it slamming close that gains his attention. She’s got a basket in one hand and the tote on her shoulder. “I can help.”

She shakes her head before trailing ahead of him. They pause for a moment to work off shoes before delving into the sand. Calum takes a deep breath of the seawater, the way it’s lapping at the shoreline. She places a blanket down not too far into their trek and Calum continues on, pausing to set Duke down for just a moment. Calum works up the legs of his jeans. The movement causes Duke to wake and watch. His paws hit the sand faster than she can catch him and Calum notices the clinking of tags before he hits the water. 

“I don’t think she’s prepared for wet dog smell for an hour, bub.”

Calum steps until the water hits his ankles and stops. The water is definitely cold. It makes him clench his jaw a little. But he likes the shock. Takes a bit of the heat off from the alcohol. He’s almost 24, almost inching towards more milestones in his life. He wonders what 24 will bring him--if it’ll be nice in love and bigger in success. Does he even need to worry about success?

How come 24 really doesn’t feel any differently than 23 or 22? Age was catching up, he noticed. His body not breaking down food like before, the random aches in his knees sometimes. Though he blamed too many punk jumps from the early days. Maybe just felt differently when he didn’t feel like he was racing against a clock or someone else’s expectations. His life was going well and that’s all he could really ask for. He still had his health, he could still spoil his mother and his sister like he wanted as a thanks to them. He could even spoil his old man and his friends. 

Yeah, his relationship with time had changed. He wasn’t running for anything and didn’t have to anymore. Things would come in due time. All he had to do was just be there for the opportunities when they came knocking. 

“Happy birthday!” she cheers. “Officially 12:01, January 25th.”

Calum turns to find her, not too far behind him with a cupcake in hand. “You didn’t tell me there were cupcakes.”

“There are always cupcakes!” She is not a singer. By no stretch would she ever consider the profession, but her voice is lovely as she sings Happy Birthday to Calum, standing in freezing water and the candle flickering in the breeze off the water. He worries that the flame will go out but her hand cups against the air and it remains lit. 

Calum’s gentle as he blows out the candle, eyes still closed from his wish. She pulls the candle free and shoves the icing into his nose. Calum huffs, attempting to lick it off. He’s thwarted by his own tongue and trying to keep Duke away from it too. Her giggles echo against the waves. He can’t even be mad. They hike back to the blanket and she hands him a napkin to clean his nose.

He swipes the icing off and dollops it onto her nose. The cupcake is still moist as he takes a bite of it. “I know it’s not a lot. But I know home means a lot to you.”

Calum’s quick to scarf down the rest of the cupcake. The drinks have him still just a hair fuzzy and he’s sure the sugar’s only going to serve him into a headache, but for the moment he can indulge himself into the sweet treat. She holds out the small gray velvet box.

“I’m just glad it’s not a giant basket of stuff like you did for Duke. Transporting that into my house drunk would be a stuff time.”

She snorts. “Which is why I’m sober. I’ll keep that in mind for next year.”

Calum looks at her, fingers still poised around the gray box. Next year. A funny phrase to think about when the hallmark of his physical body has already hit. “We’re gonna be friends so long they’re going to write stories about us.”

Her nod is curt. “Open the fucking present. I can’t wait for you to cry like a baby.”

He balks, eyes widening. “I would never do such a thing.” Her pursed lips and quirked eyebrow state otherwise. “Okay, maybe just a little.” 

The box is a little stiff to open and when his eyes land on the gold ring with two silver ferns etched into his, his heart races. His eyes sting a little. “Really?” He hates that she was right but the first teardrops and his lower lip wobbles a little. “For me?”

“I don’t know any other Māori men that would want a silver fern ring, so yeah for you.”

Calum doesn’t even slip it on. He just reaches out and brings her into his chest. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

“Love you too, Cal.” There’s just a moment’s silence before she pokes his side. “I told you you’d blubber.”

“Shut up. Let me have this moment. It’s my birthday, asshole.” She giggles into his chest but remains silent on the snarky remarks. 

Calum watches the ring catches the light as they return to the highway. The gold is bright and flashes. He hasn’t stopped staring at it and though he hasn’t gotten back into wearing rings too much, he knows from this moment on, he’s going to be wearing this one every day. The ferns disappear just a little when he tilts it away from him but when he brings the flat face back into his view he sees their etchings. 

Ashton’s messages are unanswered on the drive back home because Calum can’t bring himself to look at anything other than a ring and the girl sitting next to him. God, he’s lucky to have her in his life. They haven’t known each other that long, in comparison to the decade he’s spent with the guys. But the two years have been full of stupid inside jokes, like adding ‘the’ in front of Google and a constant string of text that consists of ‘you suck but you’re stuck with me. so I still love you’ and pictures of dogs she sees at work. 

It’s just past one in the morning when she pulls into Calum’s driveway. He insists on her staying the night since it’s so late and she has to be up early. There’s no real protesting, even as he shoves her into the bathroom to shower. “What about a deal?” she asks, watching him turn the water on. 

“No deal. Just stay here. It’s too late for you to be driving.”

“You can drive,” she grins. 

“I’ve been drinking so I will be driving nothing. Now, strip and shower. I won’t be hearing any further arguments on the case.”

“We’ve watched too many law shows,” she counters, leaning into the door. 

“Or maybe not enough,” Calum counters, kissing her forehead. He turns from the door, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. 

“If I ever did start striping, would you actually come to the club to see me?”

Calum nods, a hum falling over his lips. She’s hidden by the door but her head peaks out over it. “I surely would. Once you got a solo dance, I’d spent a thousand on you in a heartbeat.”

“You flatter me, Hood.” 

“What else are friends for?”

The door creaks closed and he’s a little slow to take off his clothes. Soon the shoes, jeans, and shirt fall into a pile onto the floor. He has half a mind to kick them over to his laundry basket but he falls into his bed. She’ll do it and fuss the entire too at him. To his shock, when she returns, she falls into bed next to him. 

“I feel bad that I have to work on your birthday,” she admits. 

“You’ll be there for the dinner though, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then it’s all good, sweetheart.” She curls up under his sheets, Duke pressed into her chest. “Happy birthday,” she repeats, eyes falling closed. 

“You’re the best, ya know?” Calum returns. He’s sure she has succumbed to sleep and he’ll follow her soon into unconsciousness but he toughs it out a moment or two longer after her. “Glad you’re my best friend.”

He watches her chest fall evenly under the sheets. She’s asleep, he concludes when she gives no rebutall, so he clicks off the bedside lamp. “Ashton’s going to be pissed if he hears I took his place.” Her cheeks squished into the pillow makes her voice muffled as she speaks. 

Calum’s laughter shakes his chest. He finds one of the smaller pillows from behind his head and throws it blindly in the direction of her side of the bed. “Oof,” she huffs at the impact. 

“Tell him and I have to kill you.”

“Okay, secret’s safe with me.” More silence ensues. Calum feels himself sinking into the mattress. It’s not hard thanks to the alcohol making his limbs heavy. “For now.”

“Oh my god, if you do not shut up.”

“What are you going to do? Hit me with another pillow.” Calum gives no verbal rebuttal but finds the last pillow at his disposal and whacking her with it. “Ouch!” she hisses. “I’m not fixing you breakfast tomorrow then. Take that.”

“You mean later this morning.”

Calum gets a pillow to the chest and it partially clips his chin in response. “Hey!”

“Good night, Hood.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” The bed dips and then there’s nothing else. He just sinks, and sinks, and sinks. 

Tagging: @glitterlukey @5-secondsofcolor @irwinkitten @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream - Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

Metal Gear games are some of the only video games I really feel like I can talk about in my review style, because these games are about 85% story and 15% gameplay, and even that might be a generous estimate. But what about a Metal Gear game that is infamously criticized for a lack of a story? Or, well, I should say an incomplete story. Metal Gear Solid V is a game composed of the somewhat short epilogue Ground Zeroes and the sprawling main game The Phantom Pain, and together they combine to make quite a divisive package, with many citing the absolutely stellar gameplay as a selling point while condemning the supposedly sloppy and incomplete story as a major downgrade. Some have seen this game as a step down from the lofty heights of Kojima’s previous four games, while others are just as likely to embrace it. I suppose that is the nature of Kojima’s work; it always sparks discussion and debate.

I’m certainly not going to debate on the gameplay here; it’s a very fantastic open world sandbox that gives you a lot to do, from capturing animals to spiriting away guards with the Fulton system to finding the oodles of cassette tapes so that you can blast “Take On Me” while you ride a horse guns blazing into a fortress full of armed Russian soldiers. You can play stealthy or straightforward, pacifist or violent, and you can do it all while Joy Division and Spandau Ballet blare over the speakers of your helicopter. This is easily some of the best gameplay the series has ever had, and there are plenty of little missions and side objectives to do while you scour the maps for things to do. But I’m not here to sell you this game based on its gameplay; any game reviewer worth their salt has done that already. No, I’m  going to make a case for the story and characters, and hopefully convince someone that they’re not nearly as bad as some have claimed.

The centerpiece of this game is Venom Snake. Venom might actually be my favorite Snake of them all; this sounds blasphemous, but his character arc is just so beautifully tragic to me, and how he compares to Big Boss, it just really makes me love him. Venom is a man who was never given much of a choice; it was decided he should be Big Boss’ “Phantom” while he was in a coma. And when he wakes up, while he looks the part and can act the part, he just doesn’t have the wit or talkativeness that Big Boss does, leading to Venom being a bit more quiet than most of the other protagonists in the series. But his silence masks that, unlike Big Boss, to the very end Venom was a truly noble man, never mind he believed himself a demon. Unlike Big Boss, who may or may not have outright brainwashed people into joining his cause and who didn’t break a sweat at training children for war, it never even crosses my mind that Venom used torture and brainwashing, and he never fights to have child soldiers after Kaz tells him no – he drops it without much of an argument. Venom is a good man, one who does some dark things in the name of keeping the world safe, but he never truly sinks into anti-villainy the way the man he’s doubling for does, at least not in this game. Any man who would spare Huey rather than execute him immediately has a bottomless well of compassion in their soul and higher moral fiber than most of us.

Of course, the real reason I love Venom is the two most meaningful arcs: his coming to terms with Paz, and his relationship with Quiet. The former is a hauntingly tragic look at Venom’s psyche, something that shows that even though he doesn’t remember who he was, the memory of his failure to save Paz still follows him like a shadow, and the moment when Paz leaves the phantom tape telling him to let go and live – a sentiment Big Boss himself would eventually echo at the end of his life – is poignant and beautiful. As for his relationship with Quiet… everything about it just really gets to me. It’s such a beautiful friendship they form, from enemies to partners with a mutual respect, one that works even better as both are characters who speak very little or not at all. It gets to the point where, yes, the two seem like they do love each other, with culminates in the most adorable scene in the entire franchise as they splash each other in the rain… but it’s a love that can never be, as despite her respect and admiration of Venom, Quiet has a desire for vengeance that she lets consume her… and it leads to her a demise, though it is a demise of her own choosing that she brings about in a final effort to save Venom. That moment that ends their story together, which has Venom running through the desert only to find the tape with Quiet’s first, last, and only words to the man she loved, is just utterly heartbreaking and the perfect depressing capstone to their partnership.

Venom is not a character that gets happy endings. In fact, after it’s revealed he was turned into the body double of Big Boss, it’s shown that ultimately he would go on to die in Big Boss’ place during the Outer Heaven uprising depicted in the original Metal Gear. The ultimate tragedy and heartbreak that Venom goes through in this story and the others is ultimately what draws me to him and adore him; unlike Solid Snake, he never gets to earn his happy ending, dying for the cause of his commander, loyal to the bitter end, having lost almost everyone he loved and cared for along the way. Unlike Big Boss, he never gets to ultimately realize the fruitlessness of his actions and truly come to terms with the fact that all he lost just wasn’t worth it in the end. He’s just so fascinatingly sad, and it’s a sort of sadness that really draws me in. I wouldn’t say he’s a better protagonist than Solid Snake is, and he lacks some of the finesse and charm that Big Boss does, but there’s just a lot to Venom that makes him an incredibly compelling character in his own right, and all with only the bare minimum of a vocal performance.

Speaking of minimal vocal performances, there is Quiet. Quiet is such an odd character, even for this series; she is blatantly designed to be an over-the-top fanservice character in a series that has tons of gratuitous fanservice in the first place, to the point where it’s kind of weird and uncomfortable. Of course, thankfully, as Kojima is incapable of just leaving a character as one-note and superfluous, he gives Quiet the standard bonkers backstory nearly every character in the franchise gets, and as mentioned before gives her wonderful chemistry with Venom. It’s to the point where I seriously can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t feel a bit misty-eyed at her death scene, or the beautiful song her actress Stefanie Joosten sings over the credits of the episode Quiet dies in. She’s a bit much even for this series, but I think her relationship with Venom and her impact on him as well as how she fits thematically into the story more than makes up for any shortcomings she may have.

One of the MVPs of the game is undoubtedly Kaz, who got ridiculous amounts of characterization and some of the most iconic lines (“They played us like a damn FIDDLE!!!!”). He went from being something of a background character to almost the moral core of the game, the shoulder angel to Venom in contrast to Ocelot’s shoulder devil. Of course, much as everyone else, Kaz is consumed by revenge, which leads to him taking the final reveal of who Venom is and Big Boss’ betrayal of him rather badly, and any fan of the franchise knows how his desire to take down Big Boss goes. Still, his presence goes a long way towards making up for Ocelot’s shocking lack of presence; frankly, Ocelot in this game is a bit of a minor character, which on one hand is understandable as he’s only here to keep up appearances while the real Big Boss kickstarts Outer Heaven, but it’s kind of sad to see the guy who is perhaps the franchise’s greatest character take a backseat for vast chunks of the game, only chiming in now and again to give Venom some info or record a tape.

And then we come to the villains. Skull Face is a rather intriguing villain, who lives up to the hammy nature of past villains in the franchise; just see where he howls as Sahelanthropus is taken control of by Eli’s sheer hatred and, ahem, lust for revenge. Skull Face is just a wonderfully thematic villain, and while he is tragically cut down a bit earlier in the game than he should have been, his impact is still felt, as in a manner of speaking he is the reason for the events that plagued Solid Snake’s life due to his crippling of Zero with parasites. We also have some more minor villains, such as Eli (AKA Liquid Snake), Psycho Mantis as a kid, and the Man on Fire (which is actually the reanimated corpse of Colonel Volgin from Snake Eater. Sort of. It’s complicated). The more minor villains seem a bit excessive, especially seeing as the former two don’t actually get to have their arc in this game pay off in a meaningful way due to the Kingdom of the Flies portion unfortunately being cut, but they still lead to some entertaining and exciting moments, particularly young Mantis. Eli is really the only minor villain who feels like a missed opportunity, since all he really does is act like a haughty little brat and adds very little to the overall story, which is a shame considering who he grows up to become.

Of course, no discussion of evil in Metal Gear Solid V would be complete without mention of Huey, the father of Otacon. Huey is the complete and total antithesis to his son. Where his son took responsibility for things that were not even his fault up to and including his own rape, Huey deflects all blame and throws it onto others to make himself seem an innocent victim; where Otacon had the courage to face up to the horrors of the world, Huey chose to be a sniveling coward who hid behind anyone who offered him some semblance of safety; and where Otacon and Solid Snake were true companions and friends to the end who managed to raise a wonderful child together, Huey was an utter bastard who backstabbed his friends repeatedly and killed his own wife via inaction because she dared to stand up to him and not allow her child to be a battery for a Metal Gear. Huey is one of the most detestable, loathsome, and pathetic characters ever conceived in all of fiction… and I love him for it. He is just so void of any sort of redeeming quality that he becomes the poster child for “love to hate.” There is a beauty to a character like this, and it helps that he does get his comeuppance and he’s never shilled by other characters; in fact, not one of his so-called “friends” likes or even trusts him, and all of them think he’s a pathetic, delusional liar. He’s a nasty, spiteful, egomaniacal hypocrite, and I wouldn’t want him any other way.

Now I saved the story for last, mostly because the story is infamously a bit short and incomplete. Still, I feel a lot of the hate for the story is a bit unjustified; while it is true and incredibly frustrating that nothing involving Eli gets any payoff outside of descriptions of what would have happened, all of the story with Skull Face, Quiet, the parasites, Huey, and the side quest involving Paz are all rather engaging in that crazy Metal Gear way, and the prologue Ground Zeroes definitely helps to round things out. If we’re only counting the Solid games, I’d say this is at least as good story-wise as 2 in its own way; where that one is a much more cerebral story involving metatextual elements and deconstructs a lot of concepts, this game’s story is more of a showcase of the toxicity of revenge. Almost every character in the story – Venom, Kaz, Skull Face, Quiet, Eli, the Man on Fire, and Huey – has some desire for vengeance against those who have wronged them, some need to bring some semblance of closure… but it never comes. As is demonstrated in the scene where Skull Face dies, Kaz and Venom both realize that even if they killed Skull Face then and there, it wouldn’t bring back their dead comrades, it wouldn’t return the time they lost, it wouldn’t bring back their missing limbs. Ultimately, revenge is a bitter, futile waste that will only end up consuming and destroying, as it did to Skull Face, as it did to Huey, as it did to Quiet, and as it would do eventually to Kaz and Big Boss. In the end, all that has been done is that a cycle of violence has been perpetuated, and no one is better off for it.

While it’s obviously not the first story to use these concepts, I do like how it ties into the series. It all feels like it fits. Add in the fact that this game finally resolves some long-standing plot holes, such as how Big Boss survived Outer Heaven to end up in Zanzibar Land and how Kaz went from singing the praises of Big Boss to saying he was a monster who deserved death in Metal Gear 2, and while it is a technically incomplete story, it is most certainly a solid one that gives you just enough to think about that I can’t really see calling it “bad” as a logical statement. Could it have been better? Oh, absolutely. But is it still good on its own merits with a lot of standout moments due to the themes and the wonderful cast of characters? Absolutely.

I think the game’s true strength lies in its moments. This game contains some of the most powerful emotional beats in the entire series, hands down. The conclusion of Paz’s side quest, Quiet’s exit, Venom having to deal with a breakout of the parasite among his own soldiers… even if the overall narrative isn’t as cohesive as the four previous games, it still manages to pack so much emotion and power into some of its scenarios that you will feel something. The tapes too manage to be powerful and emotional, from Paz’s final “phantom” tape to Strangelove’s final moments recorded to Zero’s lament that he couldn’t ever apologize to Big Boss, there’s just so much to love here in terms of writing and emotion that I really don’t care about the main story being cut short a bit. It does suck, but I’m too busy sobbing over Quiet and Paz’s fates to really care about the fact I didn’t get to smack Eli upside the head one last time.

The Phantom Pain and Ground Zeroes are not perfect games, far from it. But they are good games, end even if a small part of the overarching story doesn’t get a satisfying conclusion, Most of the rest does, and there are so many powerful moments in here that it reminds you this series with its roid-raging nanomachine senators and gay vampires who can run on water and giant volcaloid AI robots can actually be poignant, heartfelt, and heartbreaking. It’s a fantastic game, and if you love the series you’ve likely already played it, but I definitely recommend it to anyone who hasn’t, though play through Snake Eater and Peace Walker first. It’s definitely worth your time, and far more rewarding than some have made it out to be.

[bluemoonroseart]

Surrealism: The Art of Dreaming

Using artworks by Surrealist artists René Magritte, Dorothea Tanning and Salvador Dalí, I’m going to broadly look at the movement and compare their approach to tackling subject matter that most artists fear to tread. They have a similar style in the way that some of their work has illusionistic quality to it, and as well as working in the Surrealist movement they also worked with abstraction. 

Surrealism was a revolt against formalist art that started in Paris in 1924 and ended in 1966. Experimenting with pure psychic automation, the surrealists aimed to revolutionise the human experience, rejecting a rational vision of life in favour of one that asserted the value of the unconscious and dreams. Essentially, the word ‘surrealist’ suggests ‘beyond reality’.

Dorothea Tanning's self-portrait 'Birthday' (1942) may appear tame for a surrealist painting, especially in comparison to her wild, nightmarish depictions of sinister sunflowers and twisted fairy-tales. However, I think that despite its more minimalistic façade there is a lot of underlying meaning to interpret, and it becomes more surreal the more that you study it.

Tanning is shown standing with her weight in her toes, tipping forwards as if ready to flee. Unlike most self-portraits, this is strangely unrevealing of her true personality, like she’s a character in her own story, the way that she used to invent make-believe worlds for herself to delve into when she was a child. The paint has a luminescent quality, lending to the dream-like narrative woven evocatively into it.

The turbulent, difficult to decipher perspective of the composition leads the eye to the background, behind and beyond her, into the overlapping multitude of doors, perhaps representing an invitation into the complex state of her psyche. Tanning's gaze is slightly off-centre, like she’s looking at someone or something behind us, and the way that she clutches the doorknob is almost like she's inviting them into the corridor, for her to follow after them into this portal of limitless possibility. This quickly snowballs and leaves the viewer in wonder, yearning to join and discover whatever location that it leads to.

Her idiosyncratic Jacobean-style garments make me wonder whether she has come from the unknown land beyond the doors and returned to bring someone back with her. Fantasy art often draws upon natural materials like plants to clothe their characters, so Tanning could be referencing this in the vine-like tendrils coiling off from the sides of her dress.

Although Tanning rejected being labelled a feminist, it is difficult not to see her work in this light. Sexual motifs of fetishized female body parts recur in Tanning’s work, and clothing makes no attempt to cover her chest in this portrait. Additionally, she was key in challenging preconceptions and defining her individual Surrealist style at a time where the critics commonly perceived women artists to have a passive role.

The fantastical bat-like creature has a peculiar timidity and sits beside her bare feet. Instead of appearing demonic, its small scale and stance make it appear vulnerable and creates a sort of pathos in the viewer. I think that it could be a mythological personification of the dark side of her tumultuous mind, and the fragility that perhaps isn't always visible.

Although it was painted around her birthday, the title’s intention was to suggest rebirth from the real into the surreal.

Unlike Tanning’s paintings, which some suggest frequently carry an erotic undertone, despite the title, René Magritte’s ‘The Lovers II’ (1928) is the opposite. This is a companion piece to ‘The Lovers I’ (also 1928) which depicted a man and woman posing for a photograph with white hoods covering their heads, a shocking juxtaposition of the peaceful backdrop of the countryside. However, the latter piece has a darker tone and is much more intimate, exploring the complex theme of ‘surrealist love’.

Supposedly the same couple are yet again the protagonists of this offbeat narrative, still with opaque hoods over their heads, but this time there is an added intimacy of the fact that they appear to be kissing inside a private space. As a viewer, it seems like we've stumbled into a personal moment that we shouldn’t have, but now that we’ve arrived in this room the piece is so transfixing, we can’t leave.

The application of paint is more romantic than some of his other more flatly painted works. There is a realism in Magritte's use of tone, and the chiaroscuro, murky colour palette and dark ambiance lends to the shrouded mystery of it. The enigma is further deepened by the ambiguity of the abstract background; we are given no clues to their backstory. The idiosyncratic contrast of the muted blue and deep, passionate red painted walls perhaps suggests the complexity of their relationship.

Furthermore, their concealed faces mean that they have no perceivable identity, so Magritte calls into question not only individual experience but a collective, universal human narrative. They are archetypes of people, perhaps representing an emotional barrier between everyone, no matter how intimate the relationship. Potentially it is not that they cannot understand each other, but that an onlooker could never truly comprehend the meaning of the connection between strangers. 

The fact that the pair seem to be oblivious to their veils leads me to further believe that it isn’t physical fabric at all, but a manifestation of their emotional state. Although the stance of the man is more dominant, the fact that the fabric is wrapped around his neck makes it feel like he's being strangled by his situation. Additionally, Magritte's compositional decision to include the ceiling adds a sense of claustrophobia.

This painting has now become an iconic image in the time of coronavirus, and surreal as our everyday life is now, it has spawned many imitations, including a masked kiss on a Vogue cover.

 After an era of irreverent and explicit anti-Catholicism, in 1951 Salvador Dalí painted ‘Christ of Saint John of the Cross’. Some have claimed that it is ‘kitsch, shallow, and obvious’, however, others believe that it is the best painting ever produced.

In a “cosmic dream” on ecstasy, Dalí saw that the “nucleus of the atom” was in fact Christ himself. He found this confirmed by a drawing by St John of the Cross, which inspired this painting. The stark, black backdrop of nothingness further illuminates the figure of Jesus.

I think that in this image Dalí is strongly playing with the concept of life after death. Underneath the cross is a lake with two people and a boat, offset by a strikingly expressive sky. A theory that I have is that it's potentially an allusion to the ferryman taking people to the underworld in classic mythology. This can be backed up by his exceptional use of foreshortening - referencing the way that a priest holds out a crucifix for people to kiss when they're on their deathbed - and Dalí's personal interest in mythology.

The lack of details such as sweat and nails takes the suffering out of the image and emphasises the religious belief that the Son of God sacrificed himself because he wanted to, not because he had to.

 All three of these thought-provoking surrealist paintings lead the observer into an unpredictable narrative, and their use of colour, composition and paint application make the unbelievable contents believable, strongly influencing the viewer’s response to the work. Their compelling nature makes it feel as though these paintings are just the surface of a much wider story, an analysis of human psychology: the intense and ungraspable sense of fear and love, driven by the power of the subconscious. Tanning, Magritte and Dalí have all let strangers into their own dreams and nightmares, giving us the rare insight to be a witness to the manifestations of their own internal universe and lending brief escapism from our own.

In conclusion, through trying to understand themselves through Surrealism, perhaps they have handed humanity the key to unlock our own true nature, and why this movement is so treasured is simply because as humans we love to dream.

  Bibliography

Piper, D (2004). The Illustrated History of Art. 5th ed. London: Bounty Books. p422.

Unknown. (2020). SURREALISM. Available: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/surrealism. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Feigel, L. (2019). Dangerous appetites: the weird, wild world of Dorothea Tanning. Available: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/08/dangerous-appetites-the-weird-wild-world-of-artist-dorothea-tanning. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). Dorothea Tanning Artworks. Available: https://www.theartstory.org/artist/tanning-dorothea/artworks/. Last accessed 28th Jan 2021.

Gilles, N (2000). Dali. Germany: Taschen. p74-75.

Bazan, C. (2017). The Surrealist Love and Bizarre Romance of Rene Magritte. Available: https://musartboutique.com/surrealist-love-rene-magritte/. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). The Lovers II, 1928 by Rene Magritte. Available: https://www.renemagritte.org/the-lovers-2.jsp. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

Bradley, F. (2020). Work in focus: ‘Christ of Saint John of the Cross’ by Salvador Dalí Talk. Available: https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/event/work-in-focus-christ-of-saint-john. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

[kayteewritessteve]

DT - Drunk Twitter 1/3

Description: One stupid drunken night leads to an uncomfortable week from hell. That only gets worse when you are forced to face the problems, that your drunken escapades caused, head on. Yeah, you are never going to drink ever again.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 8,380 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Lots of curse words, awkward moments, and a slightly frustrated reader. Little angst here and there, but lots of stupid humour.

Requested: Nah, this just randomly popped into my head and I ran with it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

You groan loudly as your hand flails out from under your duvet cocoon, blindly searching for the hellish contraption that currently insists on screaming at you. It is far too early for such an ungodly sound, and you are far too hungover for this shit right now.

Your hand finally makes contact with the screeching little asshole that is your alarm clock, causing a loud smash to echo through the room, just from the sheer force of your flailing limb alone. And then instantly your room falls back into silence once again. Though the constant ringing in your ears, both from the alarm and your hangover, makes that last fact slightly unknown to you in this moment.

You groan, grumbling incoherently as you pull your hand back into the warmth of the little blanket bundle that has now become your life. You plan to spend the rest of your days just hiding in this dark little cove, and then eventually one day dying here. Which from the aches and pains wreaking havoc on you currently, might be sooner, rather than later.

Why the hell did you drink so much?! Who let you polish off two bottles of wine last night?! Like, where the hell was your adult?! Clearly from this day forward you’d need someone to constantly make life choices for you, so that you never ended up in this position ever again.

You vow in this exact moment, that from this day on you will never ever drink again.

But then you remember your best friend's birthday is in 2 weeks, and you groan loudly. Okay, so you kinda have to drink for that, but mark your words now, that will be the very last time that you do!

Your phone buzzes on your bed beside you, lighting up the dark little fortress you’ve created around yourself. And whelp, looks like you never plugged it in last night. You’re honestly surprised it’s even still alive. You’d have to write a tweet to Apple about how their phone actually made it 24 hours on one charge. You’re sure that’s something they’d like to know about, as that was a highly uncommon thing to actually happen.

You reach over to grab your phone, picking it up and bringing it close to your face, before hissing at the brightness and yanking it away with such force you’re surprised you didn’t fling it across the room. You squint your eyes as you fumble to turn the brightness down, and once you successfully have you bring the screen back to you. Directly in front of your face so your blurry, dry eyes can actually read it.

And instantly you gasp loudly, your eyes watching as notification after notification pops up on your lock screen. Your twitter is blowing up right now and a cold sweat promptly rips through you. Because oh God, did you do it again?! Did you seriously post something while stupidly drunk again?!

Fuck. You groan, unlocking your phone quickly to check. Because for some ungodly reason, drunk you always insisted on posting the stupidest tweets. Normally you’d wake up the next morning, hungover and a little closer to death than the day before, and you’d open your twitter to find all the ridiculous shit you’d posted about, the previous night. Usually all of which only had maybe a retweet or two, a couple likes and usually at least one comment—thanks to your lovely best friend. Her comments normally consisting of both laughing at you and calling you out for being a crazy drunk tweeter. She just knew you and your quirks far too well. It was seriously a problem.

But this time, this time was clearly entirely different. However that was just an educated guess, due mainly to the hundreds of notifications that you now had, thanks to whatever your dumb drunk ass had posted, which had obviously blown up. And now you’d be lucky if you could sweep it under the rug like you’d always done in the past.

Oh God, please don’t let it be another praising tweet to some figure head or celebrity. That seemed to be your go to favourite thing to drunk-tweet. You had this weird need to cheer random strangers up when you were drunk. This insistent desire to support and appreciate the people you idolized. Oh please God say you didn’t tag the person the tweet was about this time.

Your shaky thumb clicks the iconic blue and white, Twitter app icon. Completely ignoring the ridiculous number in the little red circle on the icons top right corner, as you do. You haven’t even read the tweet yet and already you’re freaking the fuck out.

You quickly make your way to your profile and your eyes widen at the insanely large rant, that’s continued through multiple separate tweets, and is now sitting at the top of your page. Your eyes skim over them all, in order of posting, and you cringe, truly and utterly mortified now.

‘Do you ever just hear of someone in passing, or see them in the media, and have this instantaneous deep longing emotion within you. Not a longing in the sense of wanting them, but entirely due to hoping with everything inside you that they find their true happiness one day..’

‘..‪That they wake up in a few years and smile, like truly smile, because they are exactly where they wanted to be. Where they deserved to be. That they’d ended up with every desire they had yearned for. And I’m not talking about material objects. I’m talking life goals and accomplishments..’‬

‪‘..I’m talking about the true important aspects of life. The things that actually matter in the grand scheme of it all. Well, that is how I feel whenever someone brings up Steve Rogers. Or whenever I see an article or a news story about him. I instantly have this desperate want for him..’‬

‪‘..to be happy. Truly and utterly happy. The man deserves exactly that, and yet so much more. What with everything he has done for us and this planet. If anyone in this world has earned their happily ever after, it’s that man.’ ‬

‪Oh God. You groan, as your free hand comes up to cover your face in sheer horror and embarrassment. I mean, at least the silver lining here is you didn’t make any major spelling mistakes, and you also luckily, completely forget to actually tag him in it. So those are both small victories, in and of themselves. ‬

‪But the fact parts of that rant had blown up, regardless of you actually tagging him, is a little disheartening. You’re pretty sure he’s either seen it or been informed about it by now. And even if by the off chance he hasn’t, you know it’s only a matter of time before that changes. ‬

‪You scroll through the notifications and you feel your heart stop, as all the blood leaves your body and goes—honestly who knows where it goes, but it definitely doesn’t stick around to be apart of this train wreck of a situation. You abruptly sit up, the blankets falling from your upper body and pooling around your waist now.

‪Tony Stark retweeted your post. ‬

‪5 little words that make you want to delete every social media account you currently have, plus move to ‬Lesotho or something. Never heard of Lesotho? Well, that’s exactly why you’d picked to move there. Because most people don’t really know it even exists, nor where to find it on a map. So it would be the perfect place to hide away, and start a new life under a fake name.

Yup, it’s settled. Pack your bags, we’re moving to Lesotho!

You don’t even have it in you to read Mr. Starks response back to your tweets, nor dig any further into your notifications to see who else may have retweeted this whole mess. God, what is wrong with yo—

Your phone ringing scares the complete shit out of you, damn near chucking the metal brick across your room, for the second time this morning if anyone is keeping tabs, as your heart thumps loudly in your chest. However, you manage to keep a firm grip on your phone, but just barely. Effectively saving the thing from an untimely death, thanks to being forcefully introduced to your bedrooms brick wall.

Though come to think of it, maybe smashing it would be the best option here?

You sigh deeply as you finally notice it’s your best friend calling, a groan leaving your throat as you then instantly realize that she is probably calling thanks to your stupid Drunk Twitter rant. You contemplate not answering for a second, you could pretend you’re still asleep. But you know she’ll just keep calling until you answer, or worse, she’ll just show up at your house and let herself in with her spare key. Then you won’t have the luxury of hanging up on her if her teasing gets to be too much.

So as you click the answer button and hesitantly raise the phone to your ear, you prepare yourself for your incoming humiliation. I mean, more so than your already currently experiencing. Which is both surprising and frustrating, because who knew you could ever be this mortified in real life? You certainly didn’t, but yet here you are.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Lindsey’s loud voice mixed with her unabashed laughter rings out of the phones speaker, it’s so loud that you instantly yanked the phone away from your ear. Your headache coming back tenfold as you groan loudly and message the side of your skull.

“Giiiiirl!!” She hollers now, and so lustrously that you can hear her perfectly, even with the phone still being nowhere near your ear. “What the hell were you drinking last night? And where can I get me some!”

You grumble out a, “you need to lower your voice or I’m hanging up on you.”

“Awe, is someone a little hungover today?” She coos in a motherly voice, though at a much quieter level now, at least enough to warrant putting the phone back to your ear once again. However her voice may be softer now, but the playful and teasing edge to her tone is as loud as a freaking bomb.

“More like dead,” you mumble falling back down to lay on your bed and slinging your free arm over your eyes. “Or at least I wish I was.”

Her gleeful cackle rings out of the phones speaker now. “Girl, don’t say that! I’d miss you too much, and you’re fucking famous now!”

You just groan, not even remotely interested in what she means by that.

“Oh, and why am I famous now, Lindsey?” She says in a mocking tone, clearly trying to impersonate you, but in your opinion not coming anywhere close. “It’s so wonderful you should ask Y/N! Probably because your tweets are all over the news stations, social media and the internet. Even most of the Avengers have already retweeted it, most notably Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson AND Bucky Barnes. Ya know, all of Steve Roger’s best friends. But yet, no one has commented on whether the recipient of your beautiful drunken words has actually seen it or not. Buuuuut we can all assume he probably has.”

“Can we just not do this today?” You roll onto your side, your free hand now pulling the duvet up and over your head again. “I am in far too much pain and far too humiliated to be having this conversation right now. Can we please, for the love of all things that are holy, talk about something else? Anything else, I beg you!”

“Hell no!” She exclaims, you wincing at the abrupt volume change. “My best friend is famous! And all because she drank too much wine and tweeted a ridiculously sweet rant about thee Captain America! Honestly, this. Is. Just. Too. Damn. Good.” She squeals, “you can’t even write better shit than this!”

“Lindsey,” you groan, “I am way too hungover and under caffeinated for this right now. Seriously, I’m going to hang up now and hopefully fucking die.”

“Fine, fine,” she relents but you can still hear the humour in her voice, “I promise I’ll drop it, for now. But get your sexy ass out of that bed and meet me in the kitchen STAT.”

“Uuugh,” you drag the sound out. “You’re freaking in my house right now, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she says gleefully. “But before you flip shit, don’t. I brought coffee and bagels, so be a good girl and get your ass out here or I’m going to eat all of it myself.”

You don’t even respond as you hang up the phone, she had you at ‘coffee’. You quickly flip the blankets off yourself and roll out of bed. Not even bothering to check yourself out in the mirror because honestly, Lindsey has seen you at your worst. So she is entirely used to this from you.

You trudge your way out to the kitchen, seeing your best friend pulling wrapped food from a brown bag and you groan again, but this time happily. Her eyes dart up to you and she gives you a once over, a small frown on her lips now.

“Oh boo thang, you look horrendous,” she says softly, sweetly, as you reach her, and she hands you the large to go cup of coffee. “Drink this. Then go jump in the shower, you stink like shame and poor life choices,” she scrunches up her nose playfully.

“I honestly don’t think a shower will remove those particular smells from my skin. I think that’s just my natural scent now,” you giggle as you take a deep waft of the glorious life juice’s warm aroma, a content sigh coming out on the exhale. You bring the drink to your lips and almost moan. Yes, you are this much of a coffee nut. You take a few generous gulps then stumble over to the counter stools and plop down. “But a shower does sounds like a good plan,” you nod, the cup staying close to your mouth for quick and easy access.

She hums in agreement, nodding as she hands you a wrapped up bagel. “So, should we talk about what caused you to want to get ‘Sappy Drunk Tweets’ wasted last night or?”

You sigh, “I just had a shit day at work. My boss was a raging asshole, yet again.” You shake your head, “but what’s new?”

“I can not stand that evil little man!” Your friend growls. “You seriously need to find a new job, Y/N. You can’t keep working for that piece of shit anymore. And I honestly don’t think your poor liver can take much more of these semi frequent beatings. Somethings gotta change.”

“I know, I know,” you nod, “I’ve been searching for something else, but there just isn’t many available jobs at the moment. But I’m hopeful I’ll find something soon.” You take another large gulp of the sweet, sweet liquid gold, feeling as the warmth radiates throughout your whole body, as your brain slowly begins to rejoin the land of the living.

It’s been a few days since your stupid drunken escapades on Twitter, and a few days since Lindsey visited. You both had enjoyed your coffee and bagels, talking about everything and nothing. Luckily she had kept the drunk tweet talk to a minimum, like she promised. And once you were all done that, Lindsey headed off to work and you hopped in the shower, before spending the entire day on your couch, watching movies and pointedly ignoring your phone. Or rather, the never ending string of notifications on said phone.

So now you’ve been basically hiding out since then, only leaving your house to go to work or to make a quick trip to the store down the block from your apartment. The stupid tweets are still blowing up, people are still retweeting them and talking about them.

You’d hoped this would have all blown over by now, that something else ridiculous would have come along and stolen everyone's attention. But alas, you aren’t that lucky. Because not a damn thing is going on in the world right now, obviously, as everyone is still very much hung up on your whole embarrassing sap fest.

So much so that you are being recognized now as the ‘Steve Tweet Woman’. Which is just fucking outstanding—ha! not!

News outlets, websites and talk shows have been blowing up your phone and email, asking for comments or to set up interviews. Wanting to know if anyone from Steve’s camp has reached out to you, or if you’ve been invited to the tower to meet the team. Also asking if you and the Avengers are now friends, or at the very least acquaintances. And those are just a few of the things they are asking you. Honestly, those are the least ridiculous questions—which is freaking sad.

So leaving your house has become a damn chore now, you have to wear a full disguise just in the hopes no one recognizes you. This is not what you wanted at all. Shit, you don’t even know what you wanted from making that tweet, but this for sure was not it. Not even close.

You’d avoided Twitter along with all your social media playforms since that dreadful morning, as well. You were just too overwhelmed with all the notifications and messages you’d been receiving ever since. Far too many to ever read, let alone even keep up with. Nor did you want to see what any of them actually said.

You sigh, trying to focus back on your computer monitor. You were currently at work, hiding out in your cubicle and keeping your head down.

At the moment you worked as a writer for a news and entertainment website, much like Buzzfeed but nowhere near as large or well known—And I know! Ironic right? Uuuugh! Your damn life was just such a joke.

Your cubicle neighbour, Tyler, springs up over your divider wall. His arms resting on the top as his chin sits on them, a small frown on his face. So this obviously isn’t going to be good.

“Do I even want to know?” You ask quietly before he can utter a word.

He sighs, “probably not. But sadly you kinda have to know.”

“Okay,” you spun slightly in your chair to face him fully. “I’m ready, lay it on me.”

“The boss saw your tweets,” he starts and you wince in embarrassment. “He messaged me as your email keeps sending his messages back undelivered. So you should probably check into that, but first, he wants to see you in his office.”

You groan, dropping your forehead onto your desk with a thud, “my email has been so swamped the last few days that I shut down the receiver.”

“Understandable,” he says quietly, and you can hear that the frown is still present on his face.

“Does he want to see me now?” You peek up at him.

He nods, “yeah, said it was urgent.”

“Shit,” you mumble and sit up, grabbing a notebook and pen quickly as you stand from your chair. “Well, wish me luck, hopefully he doesn’t just fire me the second I walk through the door.”

Tyler shakes his head, “he’d be an even bigger idiot than we all currently think he is, if he did that. Don’t sweat it, at worst he’ll probably just throw a tantrum and give you a slap on the wrist.”

“On second thought, I think I’ll just quit instead,” you say playfully as you walk out of your cubicle. Hearing Tyler’s deep chuckle behind you as you do.

“But then who will keep me entertained everyday?”

“You’ll find someone,” you giggle, shrugging. “My replacement, most likely. Though sadly they will never be as awesome as me!”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he agrees as he lowers back down into his chair and you continue on towards your bosses office.

A moment later you find yourself standing outside of his closed door, notepad clutched to your chest. You have no idea what this impromptu meeting will be about, but you can only assume it has something to do with your stupid drunken posts.

You take a deep breath in, raising your fist up to knock on the door. And a moment later hearing a muffled and authoritative, “enter.” God, he really was just such an entitled asshole.

You open the door and peek your head in, “you wanted to see me, Sir?”

He glances up and nods, “ah, Y/N. Yes, come in.”

You quickly open the door and make your way into his office, closing the door and then hastily moving to stand in front of him.

He interlocks his fingers together and rests his hands on his desk, just staring at you. “Why isn’t your email working?”

“Oh, uh,” you shift awkwardly in your spot. “I um, I shut it off for a bit.” You nod, “just till I could get caught up on the emails I already have.”

He raises a brow at you, “your email is being swamped with messages, I take it?”

You nod again, “ah yes, Sir.”

“Does that have anything to do with the tweets you sent out last week?”

You almost groan, almost, but manage to contain it. “It—it does, Sir.”

He nods, glancing to his monitor, “now normally, foolish shenanigans such as this would be grounds for termination. And I was going to fire you for the embarrassment you’ve brought on this company, but I had a change of heart. So you won’t be losing your position just yet.”

You nod slowly, wishing you could give this idiot a piece of your mind. But your need to pay bills and have a job forces you to bite your tongue. “Oh, um, thank you, Sir.”

“But,” he flicks his beady eyes back to you, “you will have to make this up to me.”

You almost gulp, what the hell does that even mean?! “Um, how,” you clear your throat, “how exactly would you like me to do that?”

He leans back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. One that instantly causes a chill to run down your spin, and this time you do gulp. “There is a press conference in 3 days. You are going to attend it on behalf of our website.”

You nod, following along so far, and honestly this doesn’t sound so bad. Getting to be at a conference first hand is a huge accomplishment. Being trusted enough to be the one present is a big deal in this company. Normally only seasoned writers get to attend such functions.

Yet, something about this feels...off. Like there is a shoe about to drop nearby and you can’t shake that thought. “Okay, um of course, Sir. But what is the press release for, exactly?”

His smirk grows into a full blown grin and your heart rate picks up instantly because of it. “I’m so glad you should ask,” he nods, “It's a press conference for the Avengers. They are opening their new facility and are holding a press junket to cut the rope and answer some questions.”

And instantly you choke on air, no joke, then coughing a few times to clear your airway. Because oh fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck fuck. Why you?! Why does life always do this to you?!

“Um, Sir,” you start quietly once you stop coughing. “I don’t um—this is not to say that I’m not completely honoured that you’d choose me for this job. But uh, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to send me to this. Not with everything currently going on, at least.” You swallow thickly, your hands turning clammy as your nerves pick up. “There, ah, there has to be someone more qualified to send to this event. Ya know, someone other than me.”

He shakes his head, “there isn’t. And even if there was, I can’t send anyone else. You were specifically asked for by name, we weren’t even originally supposed to attend this press release. Only larger media outlets were invited.” He opens his top drawer in his desk and pulls out an access pass on a lanyard, holding it out to you. You gingerly step forward to take it then take a few hasty steps back once it’s in your grasp. “You were the only one invited, and were given an all access pass for the whole event.”

You gaped at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as you glance between your boss and the press pass currently in your hand. “But ah,” you shake your head, “why me?”

He shrugs, “probably because of those silly posts you made. You clearly caught someone's attention. So get to work, you have a press conference to prepare for,” he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

But you just stay firmly planted in your spot, “Sir, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Oh but it is.” His eyes shoot to you and narrow, “so you either attend that conference or I’ll fire you. We are making the most out of your blunder here, don’t mess this up. You only have one shot at this, and I expect the article from this to not only be outstanding, but also on my desk Monday morning. This is the break our website needs, but if you aren’t willing to pull your weight and fix your mistakes, then we don’t have a place here for you anymore. So it’s your choice, Miss Y/L/N.”

You sigh defeatedly, and nod, “okay, I’ll do it.”

“I figured you would,” he nods once then turns back to his computer screen. “Close the door behind you.”

You nod, spinning on your heels and exit the room. Shutting the door softly behind you like he’d asked and then heading back to your desk to start preparing for this press conference.

But all you can think about is how truly mortifying this whole week has already been. And it’s clearly only going to get worse from here on out. How do you get yourself into these things? Now someone from the Avengers team has specifically requested that you be there. Great.

Were they planning to embarrass you further? Were they going to make a mockery of you because of a stupid drunken mistake? Were you going to regret accepting this article instead of just quitting?

You glance down at the press pass in your hand and sigh, there is no way to know currently just how this will all play out. But sadly, you’ll be finding out the answers to your questions soon enough. And in a little less than 3 days, at that.

You stand in front of your full length mirror—wearing the seventeenth outfit you’ve tried on so far this morning—and trying desperately to find faults with it. In all honesty, all the outfits you’ve tried on had looked perfectly fine and would have worked. But you were determined to stall, to waste as much time on pointless outfit changes as you could, so that you didn’t have to face your reality.

That reality being that today was the day, today was the Avengers press conference at the new facility. And oh God, how you really did not want to have to do this today.

I mean, the moon wasn’t in the right placement. Nor was Jupiter currently aligned. And your horoscope had warned you about ‘life changing events should you venture out of your box.’ And you could only assume said life changing events weren’t going to be good ones, and this was very much venturing outside of your box. Plus like, you just had this strange gut feeling, something deep inside you telling you that something was going to happen today—And one should always trust their gut in true times of crisis.

So really, that was all to say that this was a horrible idea, and you should probably just stay home. Yeah, it’s settled then, you’ll stay home. That was a much smarter plan for sure.

Your hired car pulls up to the large, intimidating steel and glass structure and you instantly feel like you’re going to puke. And if the hired car didn’t charge you your first born for doing just that, you’d gladly probably have puked in this exact moment. It comes to a stop and you thank the driver before collecting up your belongings and climbing out.

Glancing around you notice a bunch of people hanging about, some with large camera’s around their necks, others with microphones. But all are wearing various passes, some look similar to yours, however none match it entirely. Your hand grabs on to the pass around your neck and pulls it away from your body to examine it more closely.

Yeah, yours is the only one like it, that you can currently see. Which yeah, that’s extremely odd, for sure. You release the pass, letting it fall back to your chest and head towards the check in booth, just wanting to get this all over with so you can promptly go home and die of humiliation in your bed. Alone and away from the world.

You give one of the ladies at the table your full name and instantly notice a wicked smirk appear upon her lips as she hears it. Which honestly can’t be a good sign for what’s to come. No, this is a sign you should probably just leave now. The universe is clearly trying to warn you, but your dumb, job needing ass can’t leave. No matter how much you desperately want to.

She hands you a map, pointing to the location where you will be standing for the conference. Then she points behind herself, in the direction you are to head and you mumble a quick thank you before heading the way she showed you.

As you make your way to the location, you continuously glance between the map in your hands and the area around you. The last thing you need right now is to get lost on this insanely large property, and end up missing the press release all together. Oh God, your boss would pitch a fit if that happened.

Your heels click on the cement ground, thankful you aren’t trudging it through grass at the moment. Heels and grass do not mix, and with your luck you’d probably end up twisting an ankle or snapping a heel. And the last thing you want right now is to draw unwanted attention to yourself. Ya know, more so than you already have.

You glance down at the outfit you’d finally begrudgingly decided on, choosing to stick to basic shades to help you blend in a little better. No fancy or colourful prints or shades today. No, blacks and whites was what you went with. Hoping that most of the other press members would be dressed similarly. And with one glance around you, that hope actually came true.

You’d decided to go with a black pleather pencil skirt, that was form fitting but also flattering to all your softer areas. With a long sleeve white shirt tucked into it, and simple black pumps. It was a pretty basic look, but that’s exactly what you were going for. You wanted to blend in, praying none of the Avengers or press would even noticed you, let alone figured out you were the drunken Twitter tweeter.

God, doesn’t that just sound so stupid? The ‘Twitter tweeter’. Just ridiculous. And to think, this is your life now! This is who you are now. Seriously, the next time you drink, you are going to leave your phone at work. As you clearly can’t be trusted with it when you’re intoxicated.

As you make your way closer to the spot the nice lady had shown you, you realize that you are the only one in this location. All the other press are further down, in front of the stage, whereas your place is off to the side. It has a perfect view of the stage, but there is nothing and no one to hide behind.

You halt your steps, and even though it’s a beautiful sunny day, you feel a cold sweat come on. Are they segregating you? Are they going to make an example out of you? Or treat you like some circus clown?

You know these thoughts are ridiculous, these are world heroes we’re talking about here. Good people who put their lives on the line everyday for everyone else. But maybe they are going to force you into speaking to the press, maybe they are going to use you for good PR. Your stupid tweets are the hot topic at the moment, everyone is wanting the inside scoop on you, your life and your possible new affiliation with the mighty team.

But being in the spotlight isn’t your thing, you like to be unknown, anonymous. Just another face in the crowd. And if this is an ambush, then take you the fuck off that sign up list. You are not interested in this being spun around on you. Fuck that.

You turn on your heel and head back to the main press area, you’d just hide out there amongst all the other reporters and journalists. At least you could hang in the back and keep your head down while you take notes.

You might be overthinking this. Or be acting a little too irrational at the moment. But cut yourself some slack, this week has been hellish and overwhelming, to say the least. And your poor frazzled mind is in overdrive mode, overthinking the smallest things and making you a bit of a basket case. Clearly you don’t handle stressors like this very well. That’s obviously a flaw of yours, but one you very much do not plan on addressing today. Or ever, maybe. But definitely not here and now.

You reach the main press area and tuck yourself into a back row chair, lowering your large black purse onto the ground and digging through it to grab your notebook, recorder, pens and your phone. You’d record the whole press release, taking notes and photos here and there. Then when it was all over you planned to hightail it out of here, long before anyone noticed you. Hopefully. That was the plan anyways.

You glance around, noticing a few nearby press members staring intently at you. God, you hope none of them cause a scene and point you out. You quickly glance up at the stage, seeing that it is still empty and none of the team is up there yet. So you drop your eyes down and decide to just doodle in your notebook till the junket begins.

Time seems to be ticking along at an alarmingly slow pace. Probably just because you are so desperate for this to all be over, therefore it’s doing the opposite now. The minutes currently feeling like hours to you.

Finally, after weeks of waiting—at least you swear it’s been that long. You hear commotion up on the stage, and notice as everyone around you is seated now, taking photos. You grab your phone and flick your eyes up to the stage, seeing the mighty group of heroes slowly ascending the stairs and fanning out on the platform.

You snap a few shots and then prepare your recorder, hitting the button to start it once Tony Stark makes his way to the microphone. You balance the recorder on your left leg, your notebook open on your light and pen at the ready. Your phone sitting in between both legs, fully charged, set to silent and camera app open.

The conference starts with Tony doing a speech, thanking everyone for being here and just general PR stuff. You are sort of paying attention, but also not. You know that you can always listen to the recording later if you miss any part of this conference, so there isn’t a huge weight on you to be fully listening currently.

So instead, you get lost in your own mind, continuing to berate and chide yourself for your horrible life choices. Ya know, all the ones that led up to this very moment. You keep your eyes down for most of the event, only glancing up periodically to snap a few more photos here and there. But then they flick back down to continue doodling in your notebook.

On the plus side, the grassy, flowery meadow you have been drawing this whole time is looking wonderful. Even if it’s only in all blue and black pen ink. But focusing on this is better than possibly locking eyes with the poor victim of your latest drunk tweets. You know he is up there, because they all are. And the last thing you want is to look at him currently. Your immense guilt and humiliation preventing you from even entertaining the idea of ogling the handsome man right now. Not even a little bit, no matter how badly you want to. No matter how much you want to see just how attractive he is in person. You can’t allow yourself to.

You don’t even really deserve to be here right now, the only reason you are, is because drunk you is a sappy asshole. Had you not posted those stupid tweets, you wouldn’t have been invited here today. God, how you wish you had a time machine right now.

You’d made a bunch of mistakes throughout your life, I mean, who hasn’t? But this one was by far the worst, you were definitely paying for this one. Tenfold. Maybe this is the wake up call drunk-you needs though. Hopefully she will have learned her lesson from all of this. Buuuuuut knowing her, probably not.

You sigh, picking up your phone to take a few more photos as the time nears to the official opening of the facility. To the rope cutting, which is the true reason you are all here today. You keep your eyes on your phones screen, but movement off to the side of the stage catches your eyes and they snap from the screen to it.

They lock with a greyish blue set, and you see the owner of said eyes glance over your face momentarily, before a smirk breaks out on his lips. Bucky Barnes aka The Winter Soldier aka Steve Roger’s lifelong best friend. You are currently having a stare off with an ex hydra assassin, and an insanely good one at that.

You are just about to break the eye contact when you notice him elbow the blonde super soldier to his right. Leaning in once he has the other man's attention and whispering something in his ear, before his head nods in your direction. Oh God, this also can’t be fucking good.

The blonde furrows his brows for a moment, his eyes scanning the crowd before they land on you. And the second your eyes meet, you are fucking trapped. Because, Jesus! This man is basically a human bear trap, and your ass just willing stepped right on to it.

Greeeeeat. Now you’re having a stare off with thee Steve Rogers. Just exceptional. Note the extreme sarcasm.

And then you notice as he frowns, most likely now realizing you are the crazy lady who tweeted about him. He snaps his eyes away from you, turning to glare at his best friend. Who only grins wider in return and then shrugs his shoulders before nodding his head to the billionaire at the podium. Mr. Roger’s heated gaze then flicks to the side of Mr. Stark’s head, narrowing a little more and honestly, if looks could kill, everyone here today would be witnesses to a murder. To the death of Iron Man, at the eyes of Captain America.

And oh fuck, this is not going well. So much for going unnoticed. You can’t do this, you can’t be here any longer. This is all just too much and you want to go home.

You quickly pack up your belongings, throwing them haphazardly into your large purse. As the tears of humiliation begin prickling in your eyes. What did you do to deserve any of this? Clearly you fucked up in a past life and now you were paying for it in this one.

Your eyes involuntarily glance back up to the stage, tears threatening to fall but you try to force them to hold off until you are away from this place. Away from all the prying eyes. The last thing you need is photos of you crying like a baby, at the Avengers new facility opening, to start circulating the internet and only adding fuel to the fire.

They’d probably play it up like you were this insanely huge fan, and just being here made your crazy come out to play. Bawling your eyes out for just being here, in the presence of the hero you so clearly had lady wood for. But yet, that wasn’t it at all. You know most of these people were probably too focused on Mr. Stark to even notice the moment between the super soldiers. You’re pretty sure you were the only one who actually did see it.

Your eyes lock once again on the intense pair of blue ones, finding yourself momentarily trapped all over again. Then his eyebrows furrowing snaps you out of it, thankfully, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek. You quickly wipe it away as you turn and hastily make for the press area exit.

You don’t look back, you can’t bare to see the relief probably on Mr. Rogers face now. He is probably thankful you are leaving early. He probably never wanted to actually see you in the flesh. He probably thinks you are just some ridiculous, crazed fan who went out of her way to either try to get noticed by him, or boost her career via the exposure.

God, how far from the truth that actually was. But not like you’d ever get the chance to prove that to anyone now. You vow in this exact moment to delete your twitter the second you get into the Uber. Like completely deactivate your whole account. Then you’d have no way to embarrass yourself ever again. At least not publicly, not in front of the entire world.

As you reach the spot where the hired car had dropped you off, you pull out your phone and open your Uber app. You had a hired car set up to pick you up later on, for when the press release was supposed to be over. But as it was still early and now only over for just you, you needed a ride and fast.

You begin filling out the order, hastily walking down the laneway towards the main road. Like hell were you going to stay standing on the facilities grounds any longer. Risking being seen or stopped by random press members. You’d just meet the car down the road a bit. That was the best plan here.

But as you are making your hasty get away, you hear fast footfalls coming up behind you. And you cringe slightly, too nervous to turn around and see who is coming towards you currently. You pray it’s just someone running to meet their car. Maybe one of the press people has an emergency and needs to leave early because of it?

“Hey, hold up,” a deep voice calls from behind you, effectively killing that last thought dead in its tracks. Much like you wish would happen to you right now. If you could just drop dead in this moment, you totally would. You didn’t have suicidal thoughts, ever, but in this exact moment, you’d take any out you could get. The sheer humiliation of this week finally crashing down on you.

You sigh, quickly wiping your cheeks of the few tears that refused to stay put in your eyes, and slowly turn around as the footsteps near you and come to a deafening halt. You know whoever it is, is now only a few feet away from you and there is no avoiding this awkward situation any longer.

You instantly realize the person now standing mere feet from you, is the very last person you want to be anywhere near right now. Even with keeping your eyes down, focused entirely on the ground so that whoever the person ended up being wouldn’t see the tears, now in your eyes. You still instantly know that it’s Steve Rogers, the newest and current victim of your drunken praise, and it now takes everything in you to not start rambling out a ridiculous apology, while also bawling your eyes out.

A heavy silence looms over you, starting to feel as if you are being crushed by it. You take a deep breath, keeping your eyes honed in on the cement ground. “I um, I’m really, really sorry,” you start, the words coming out raspy from your unused and tear tingled voice. The volume barely above a whisper so you quickly clear your throat, “I shouldn’t have come here today. I ah, I didn’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable in any way. And I guess I just need to apologize to you for my ridiculous antics last week. And ah, and for stupidly agreeing to come to this junket. I’ll just um,” you glance over your shoulder momentarily. “I’ll just be going now,” you finally glanced up at him, as you gesture with your thumb over your shoulder and take a step back. “Sorry again, for um, for everything.”

But holy fuck, he is so much better looking than you could have ever imagined. Up close and personal he is a freaking dream boat—Argh! You have no right to ogle this man! Give your damn head a shake. You are the very last person on this planet who is allowed to fangirl over him right now.

You quickly turn and continue to hastily make your way towards the road, not even giving him a moment to respond to your words. You don’t need him to say anything back though, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. You are the dick that brought this all on to not only in yourself, but this poor man as well.

You got the chance to apologize to him, which is more than you could have ever asked for. Now you just want this all to be over. You just want to go home and pretend like this entire week never happened. He can go back to his normal life, and you to yours.

God, you could really use a stiff drink right now, but that’s what got you into this whole mess in the first place. So that’s probably not the smartest idea at the moment. So instead you’ll settle for a giant tub of ice cream and a lengthy, tear filled, phone call with your bestie.

“Wait,” he says softly, probably so he doesn’t startle you any further, as you feel a large warm hand grasp your elbow, urging you to turn back around.

You clench your eyes shut, why can’t this just all be over already?! Why you?! You take a deep stuttering breath in then open your eyes and turn to face him again. He releases your elbow as you do and then you awkwardly lock eyes with him once again.

One of his large hands comes up to rub the back of his neck, the action almost looking sheepish. Clearly he also has a few words for you, and whatever they are you’ll totally deserve them. Even if they are chastising you for your stupid posts. So you quickly steel yourself for what’s about to come.

“I ah, I wasn’t—“ he pauses then quickly corrects himself, “I’m not uncomfortable about you being here,” he shakes his head, “not at all. I just—firstly, I just wanted to apologize to you, actually. I know they probably forced you to be here today, I don’t really know how, but judging by your reaction to all of this, I’m guessing you really had no say in being here.“ He sighs deeply, “I had no idea that they’d actually invited you, so I can only assume that Tony played a huge hand in all of this. He really likes to insert himself into other people's lives, so I apologize that you got dragged into this. He doesn’t really know when to butt out.”

You nod slowly as you glance down to the ground again, “it’s okay. You really don’t owe me anything, I honestly brought this all on myself. I um, I don’t blame anyone else for any of this, but thank you for saying all of that.” You look back up at him, “it really helps to hear. This week has just been—“ you cut yourself off with a deep sigh, as you wave a dismissive hand around, “sorry, that’s really not important. Um, just basically thank you, ya know, for easing my mind with all of this.”

He frowns a little, but quickly corrects it. And you still just honestly want this all to be done with. But he looks like he still has more to say, so looks like your hopes will go unanswered this time. And just as you suspected he speaks up again.

He shakes his head, “don’t mention it, but I should really be the one thanking you.”

Awe, isn’t that just so dang sweet of him—wait, what?! I’m sorry, come again?! Your eyes widen as your mouth falls open slightly. You imagine it’s a super attractive look—note the sarcasm again—but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care about that at the moment. Because what did he just say?

Your eyebrows furrow after far too long of a moment with you just gaping up at him. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but um, why exactly would you owe me a thank you?”

He smiles down at you, then quickly glances over his shoulder before looking back to you. “I’ll explain all that, but first, can I show you something?”

You find yourself nodding before you’ve even realized it. “Um, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, great. Just uh, just follow me then,” he says through a hesitant smile as he leads you off and away from the gathering. You aren’t sure where exactly he is taking you, but for the first time all week, you aren’t worried at all. Probably because this is Steve Rogers, the man out of time, and a true gentleman, in every sense of the word.

And maybe, just maybe, your hellish week that all began thanks to one stupid drunk moment, might just end on a way better note. Maybe your Drunk Twitter escapades weren’t all bad. Maybe they weren’t entirely horrible.

But honestly who really knows, you’d just have to wait and find out.

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

Part 2 of this, from Steve POV, will be coming sometime this week! So stay tuned for that!

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118

[mrsalwayswrite]

Touch My Hands and Heal Me (BuckyxOFC & StevexOFC)

So just a fun one shot to help me get over some writer’s block. I’ve had this idea in mind for awhile so I’m excited to finally get it out. 

Warnings: Some swearing, violence. 

Words: 6k

Touch My Hands and Heal Me

This was the last place Steve wanted to be on a Thursday night. Nothing against the bar itself but it had been a hellish week and all he wanted to do was relax in his suite in the Tower and pretend for 5 minutes that he was an average guy.

 Which is probably why Sam dragged his ass to this bar. 

And of course, Bucky tagged along even though he was just as exhausted. Either from a self-induced guilt trip or his belief in Steve's inability to stay out of trouble, Bucky grumbled but tucked his head down and followed silently. Jerk. 

 Sam led them down the streets of NYC to a little hole in the wall sports bar an air force friend recommended. 

 It always amazed Steve how easily people failed to notice him without the suit and shield. Walking down the sidewalk with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap on and a brown leather jacket over jeans, no one looked at him twice. Or Bucky in a black hoodie. Or Sam in a gray Nike long sleeve and ball cap. It was nice that there was somewhat a sense of esoteric, that only on the rare occasion was he swarmed now, or perhaps people were used to him. What it truly made him realize was that most people only really saw and cared about Captain America and not Steve Rogers.  No one cared about the little guy from Brooklyn anymore. All they wanted was the glorified icon of patriotism. 

 He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, willing the tension in his head and muscles to leave. Tony and him had a long meeting with Senator Thaddeus Ross today and when it finally concluded, he fled to the gym to make use of the weight bags. He probably would be receiving a bill from Tony because of all the busted bags he left behind. The man was a genius, you would think he would have reinforced them long ago. 

 Apparently he needed a drink- according to Sam. 

 He was pleasantly surprised when he walked through the door of the bar -The Old Guys Tavern-  and found it calm. It was a smaller establishment, nestled between a BBQ restaurant and a sporting goods store on a back road. It was a sports bar with several TVs showing different games playing, framed pictures all over the walls of different famous athletes, a few framed mirrors, a jukebox in the back corner near 2 pool tables. A long bar took up half of one wall, across from it several booths and a few scattered tables near the pool tables. It was simple and felt reminiscent of how bars used to be. The lights were dim but instead of feeling like a club -no matter what Natasha said he was NOT doing that again- it gave an illusion of privacy. 

 He quickly noticed that among the 23 people already there, most were male and either middle aged or elderly, with the leaning towards those with gray hair. 

 "I thought you two would feel at home here amongst your age group." Sam quipped, scanning the bar with a smile on his face. 

 "Does that mean we need to find a kindergarten for you?" Bucky retorted. 

 Steve just shook his head as Sam laughed.

 They settled into an open leather booth, a Minnesota Vikings versus Green Bay Packers football game played on the TV across from them. 

 "You dragged our asses out here, you got first round."

 Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "A'ight man, I see how it is. I try to help you have a social life and this is the thanks I get. See if I bring you out again, cyborg."

 Steve watched Sam walk up to the bar before turning to his oldest friend, seated across from him. The dark rings under his eyes only confirming how the week had affected him too. 

 "I'm fine, Steve."

 "Your face says otherwise."

 The corners of Bucky's lips turned up for a moment. "I'll be fine. It's just…" He sighed heavily, running a hand through his long, dark hair. 

 "A reminder that we're in the wrong century?"

 "Yeah...we shouldn't be here."

 "I know, Buck. I know."

 3 days ago they had attended Dum-Dum Dugan's funeral and it hit them both hard. He had been the last Howling Commando alive besides Steve and Bucky and it felt like a knife in the heart. They did not just lose a friend. It felt like the closing of a book. Another reminder of something they used to be a part of, something that they knew, was gone. Yet here they were, drowning in the murky waters of the 21st Century. 

 "Alright boys, here it is." Sam slid a glass bottle of Heineken to both of them while slipping next to Steve in the booth with his own. "You guys made plans for next week yet?"

 "Clint said we could visit the farm. Natasha and Wanda will go, I'm certain." Steve said, idly rubbing the label as the condensation dampened his finger. 

 "Vision will go if Wanda goes." Bucky snorted, taking a sip of his beer. 

 "You sure it's alright if I leave? I can tell my family that something has come up. Can't promise they won't show up at the Tower with enough food to feed an army though." Sam smirked.

 "No, you deserve to go see your family." Steve said, hoping to hide the pain in his voice. "Buck and I will figure out something." He hoped. 

 Next week was Thanksgiving, the first one Steve and Bucky would be together for since 1944. The one last year, Bucky had been in Wakanda, still working to get the trigger words out of his head. Thankfully Princess Shuri figured it out. Which reminded Steve to contact T'Challa soon to get an update -from his viewpoint- of the revisions of the Accords. Steve did not trust Senator Ross' update from earlier. That man had an agenda and clearly resented the need to keep the Avengers updated. 

 "I'll make sure to bring some of my mom's pumpkin pies back for you guys. Soon as I tell her the great Captain America ate the whole one last year, she will lose her mind."

 Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck at the reminder.  "I didn't realize it was to share. I thought Pepper bought it for the kitchen."

 "Hey! Don't compare my momma's home-made, award-winning pumpkin pie to some cheap-ass, store-bought kind! I should kick your ass for that insult."

 "Oh, I want to see that." Bucky deadpanned, keeping his eyes on the TV across from them. 

 Steve changed the subject before the bickering started. He knew it was mostly in good humor but sometimes it grated on his nerves. "Parker stopped by this morning to try out the new suit Tony made him."

 "You still seriously considering using him on the field? He's a kid." Sam questioned. 

 "He took out both you and Buck at the airport."

 "Alright, touché, but still. A damn kid."

 "I told Tony if he keeps his grades up and practices hard with us, I won't fight it." Steve smirked. "But if he gets hurt, Tony has to deal with Aunt May."

 That made them all chuckle. Once when Peter practiced with them, he had landed wrong and twisted his ankle. From what they heard, you would have thought Peter had lost a limb with how Aunt May berated Tony and fussed over her nephew. It had become a running joke amongst the team. 

 An hour passed, Steve and Bucky both having to take their turn buying the beers, as they chatted or just watched the games on the TVs. Everything had been going so well, which should have been a flashing beacon that something was going to happen. If this week had been any indication. 

 One of the guys who had been playing pool with a few others started their way. He was in his forties, slightly overweight, in business attire, looking like he got off work at an office and came out to grab a beer with friends.  Steve had noticed him several times over the past hour glancing their way but paid no mind. No one else had approached them or even acknowledged them. Most likely someone trying to figure out how he recognized their faces. 

 He approached the table and stared at each of them before a toothy, crooked grin appeared. Looking back over his shoulder, he called over to his friends. "It is those goddamn Avenger shits. I knew it. Coming in here like they own the place."

 "Hey, back off, man." Sam tried to keep his cool but Steve could see that the guy had gotten under his skin. "We are just here for a beer, minding our own business."

 "You know, I bet all those stunts you pull, the "world-saving" and shit, it's all fake. You pretend, keep the masses happy and feeling protected while you just live like kings off government money. Yeah…I know the truth."

 Before any of them could respond to the guy, about how very wrong he was, a new voice from the bar spoke up. 

 "Chuck, quit trying to start a fight. They could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

 The guy -apparently Chuck- glared over his shoulder at the speaker. "Shut up. No one asked you to get involved."

 A woman probably mid twenties slid down off the bar stool she was sitting on and stalked their way. Steve can't help but watch her, feeling as if a hurricane was approaching.  Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her hazel eyes stared defiantly at Chuck. She wore a loose white t-shirt with some kind of symbol on the front and black leggings that highlighted all her curves and showed off her long legs. Combat boots and a dark leather jacket completed the look. 

 "Just cause you're still pissed doesn't mean you gotta start shit. Now, leave them alone, you're bothering them."

 "We will leave. We didn't come here to start trouble." Steve injected, glancing between the man and woman standing at the end of the table. 

 She turned slightly to pin him with a pointed look that had him regretting his words and shutting his mouth.  She turned back to the guy -Chuck- and they glared at each other for several long, awkward, tense moments before he huffed and took a step back. 

 "Bitch," he muttered but glared at her still, "probably going to let them all fuck you like the whore you are."

 As soon as the last word spewed out of his mouth, she hit him with a right hook that left him half sprawled on the table beside them. 

 "Dee, no fighting. God, girl, get out of here!" The bartender called over, clearly exasperated as he ran his hand through his white hair. 

 "Sorry, Ray." She shrugged unapologetically. Flexing the fingers on her right hand, she turned back to Steve, Bucky and Sam. "Have a good night, boys." 

 Steve watched her walk out of the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chuck get up, spitting blood on the floor, with the help of one of his friends. He looked like he wanted to say something but his friend quickly dragged him back to the pool tables. 

 Perfect. Steve was not in the mood for a fight. 

 "Think she's ok?" Bucky was staring at her retreating form also, even when she disappeared from view. He turned back slowly to meet their confused looks. "That hit...might have broken something."

 They sat in silence for a second before sliding out of the booth and heading out.

 The air had a winter's bite to it but not yet unbearable. Although it took a lot for Steve to feel really cold now. Those rare moments always brought up painful memories of icy waters and darkness. Something he prefered not to think about. 

 They managed to glimpse her before she turned down another street. Simultaneously they started to jog to catch up. Thankfully not too many people on the sidewalk stopped to stare at three huge guys casually jogging at 10pm at night in jeans. 

 "Hey yo! Dee!" Sam called out as they turned down the street.

 She stopped, slowly turning around to watch them approach with a single eyebrow raised. "You boys lost?"

 "Naw, we wanted to see if you're alright. That was quite a punch."

 Thank God for Sam's ability to always talk. Steve never thought he would be glad for that one day but right now he was. Staring at her, he felt tongue-tied.  

 She smiled, holding her hand up and wiggling her fingers. "I'm fine. Not a big deal."

 Steve could not help but notice her nails were painted a shimmery dark blue. 

 "Why did you do it?" They all looked at Bucky with his hands in his pockets as he spoke. "I mean, you didn't have to stand up for us. Hell, he has to weigh twice what you do. So...how come you got involved?"

 "I don't like bullies."

 "Ah shit, she's the female version of you, Steve." Bucky bemoaned, dragging a hand down his face.

 She giggled, the sound rich and feminine, and Steve could not help but smile in response. 

 "I'll take that as a compliment, Sergeant Barnes." 

 "Call me Bucky, please."

 "Ok, Bucky."

 "I guess you already know Steve and I." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your name Dee?"

 She seemed to hesitate for a second, looking back over her shoulder. "Lydia."

 "Nice to meet you, Lydia. Thanks for helping out back there."

 "Oh believe me, it was my pleasure. I've been wanting to hit him for a while. I doubt Ray will let me back though."

 "Cause you hit a rude customer? I'd think you're doing him a favor." Sam snorted.

 "Ah no, I may have hit Chuck's cousin last week...broke his nose."

 The three stared at her in varying degrees of amusement and shock.

 "What? He was bad mouthing the New England Patriots. Tom Brady is my boy."

 "Shit, doll, you're something else." Bucky laughed. 

 "Thank you. Now it's lovely to meet you all but I need to go. Tootles."

 "Wait!" Steve was not sure why he stopped her except that some part of him was not ready to lose her yet. He took a step closer. "Where are you headed?"

 She raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what he was getting at. "Home."

 "Let us walk you. It's the least we can do."

 "It's not that far, I promise. I'm sure you superheroes have better things to do. I'll be fine."

 "Come on, Lydia, we got you kicked out. Let us make sure you get home safe, yeah?" Sam joined the petition. 

 She chewed her bottom lip, eyes scanning between the three of them before letting out a sigh. "If it makes you feel better."

 ----------

 When Bucky went to the bar with Steve and Sam, his expectations were to keep an eye on Steve, taunt Sam and just pretend that he had actually slept the past five days instead of pacing or staring at a wall all night. 

 Watching a beautiful dame punch a guy to defend them… this night got a whole lot more interesting. 

 The four of them walked down the sidewalk together, Steve and Bucky behind Sam and her...Lydia.

 "So, you know who we are and what we do," Sam said casually, "tell us about you."

 "Well I get into fights at bars and I watch football. I'm not that interesting."

 Bucky could not help but snort. A shared glance with Steve confirmed his own amusement.  

 "Alright. Who taught you to fight? You got a mean swing that clearly shows some training." Sam continued. 

 "My brother." She shrugged. "What were you guys doing out? I would think you'd have booze at the Tower or be more likely to go to a high-class, expensive bar instead of Ray's little place."

 "Naw, we just wanted somewhere quiet and out of the way. Besides, if we break out any booze, Tony always somehow senses it and magically appears."

 She laughed, and Bucky felt his heart lighten at the sound. 

 "Maybe we were hoping to meet someone as beautiful as you, doll." Bucky was not sure where the words came from, but for a moment he felt like the Bucky from the 40s who knew how to charm and flirt.  A forgotten piece of him buried beneath the decades of trauma endured under HYDRA'S thumb. 

 She spun around to look at him, still walking backwards with a smirk and teasing glint in her eyes. "I'm far from beautiful but I'm more than happy to pretend for you."

 He chuckled, he could feel Steve's curious eyes on him but he paid no mind. It felt good to remember this piece of him, to remind himself he was more than a damaged person, even for only a minute. "Dollface, you just gave the best right hook I've ever seen a dame throw. I'm certain that is the sexiest thing I've seen in a long time."

 Laughing, she paused momentarily to slide to his side and kiss his cheek. Her arm slipped through his and they continued walking like nothing had happened. 

 Except something had happened. 

 With her touch, it felt like all his senses tripled in intensity. Her kiss...such an innocent kiss yet it set his blood on fire and brought out a warmth in his bones that even HYDRA could not freeze out. 

 "You go around kissing strangers often?"

 She winked at Steve. "Only the cute ones."

 "She called you cute, man!" Sam laughed. 

 Bucky pretended to scoff. "Cute...I'm not cute. Take that back." He nudged her with his elbow, thankful she was on his right side. 

 "Would you prefer devilishly handsome?"

 "Hey, if the shoe fits…" Bucky shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. Steve's chuckling almost broke it. His blue eyes met her hazel and he realized he was glad they had met. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way- Cupid's bow lips, button nose, soft features. She was tall for most women, about 5' 10" even in just combat boots. Yet it was the energy around and within her that made her stand out. She felt like joy...she radiated life...there was a sparkle in her eyes that had not been tainted by the evils of this world yet. 

 "Pain in the ass also fits." Steve muttered, walking on Lydia's other side. 

 "Punk."

 "Jerk."

 She slipped her other arm through Steve's.  "I'm pretty sure 'trouble' is the best description."

 "Now that I can attest to." Sam said, leading the group. 

 They walked another block in the same formation. Lydia between Steve and himself, her arms looped through theirs. They chatted, flirted and teased easily, like they had known each other their whole lives. It was odd but Bucky was not complaining. It felt good. He found himself hoping this was not the last time they would see her. The warmth infusing itself into him from her touch was addictive. Her laughter and smiles made the darkness in his mind slowly fade. If the shared looks between him and Steve just over her head meant anything, he knew Steve felt the same way. 

 "My apartment is just down the street. You don't have to walk me to the door."

 "Trying to get rid of us?" Steve asked.

 She just laughed and shook her head. "When did I become so lucky to have three such handsome gentlemen to escort me home?"

 "When you slugged a guy to defend us." Bucky caught her eye and winked. "You're stuck with us now."

 "I'm not complaining." 

 One moment they all are laughing and talking like the best of friends. In the next moment, everything changed.

 A shot rang out.

 Bucky could feel the bullet whizz between his and Lydia's head. 

 Shit. 

 In a split second all three guys went into defense mode. Steve grabbed Lydia, shielding her with his body as he pushed her against a brick wall in a side alley. Immediately, Bucky and Sam flanked him on either side. Without a word, Bucky pulled out a pistol for both Steve and Sam, handing them over, then retrieved one for himself. He knew after this, Steve would criticize the amount of weapons on him for just a run to the bar. Bucky did not plan on sharing about the amount of knives on him additionally. He did not want to worry Steve that much. The less he knew in this case, the better. 

 His eyes scanned the nearby rooftops. The trajectory of the bullet showed the shooter was somewhere above them. At least that narrowed his search. Somewhat. On the other hand, he doubted they acted alone. Why give away their position? Did the shooter just have terrible aim? Were their others? Why the hell did this have to happen now?

 His breathing slowed, senses on high alert, eyes trained for any movement. He waited, listening intently for any sign of back-up. Quickly peeking around the corner, he noticed the side road they were on was deserted. It consisted of several closed stores on the side they had been walking on and across the street was apartment complexes. Logically there should have been someone walking around at this time. It was NYC, there was always someone awake. His eagle-eyes scanned around them, searching desperately for wherever that bullet originated from. Or for the others bound to be laying in wait somewhere around here. 

 He hated being shot at. 

 "Sniper, my ten o'clock. Apartment building, top floor, third window in." He reported, glancing behind him at the others after another peek around the side. 

 Sam faced the opposite way, keeping an eye on the other side of the alley, but nodded at Bucky's report. 

 Steve hovered over Lydia, who was crouched on the dirty ground. His eyes swept over the area and the switch from casual Steve Rogers to righteous Captain America was evident. Most likely wishing he had his shield. 

 "HYDRA?"

 "Not sure." Bucky replied, grip tightening on his pistol. Of course when they were having a great time, those bastards would show up. Damn it.  "You alright, doll?"

 "Yea...yeah." She stuttered out, still crouched underneath Steve. Her eyes were wide but clear, breathing fast but manageable. His opinion of her increased. Although she seemed frightened, she was not panicking. A reaction most common in civilians being shot at for the first time. 

 Steve spoke to Bucky. "Think you can get him?"

 "Not here."

 "Go. We got your back."

 Before he moved, a hand gripped his hoodie, surprising him. Following the hand that was holding him in place, he met her eyes. 

 "Be safe." She murmured, hazel eyes meeting his stormy blue in earnest. 

 "Just for you." With a wink, he slipped out the alley, keeping to the shadows and moved silently as a ghost. 

 It did not take long for him to get into position. He only wished he had his sniper rifle.  Climbing some rickety, metal stairs attached to the back of a store, he swiftly placed himself across from the sniper on a rooftop. If he had more time, he would have preferred to go into the apartment and silently kill the sniper, but for some odd reason he felt like he was working against the clock. 

 Breath in. 

Breath out. 

Breath in. 

Breath out. 

Breathe in.

Bang. 

 Holding the smoking pistol in the direction of the apartment, he waited. There did not seem to be any further movement.  He wondered if he should go investigate, just to confirm. God, if this was HYDRA, he did not want to leave any civilians without protection. With the gunshots fired, he figured someone would have called the cops by now. Hopefully they would be useful with the civilians.  

 Racing back across the rooftop, he flew down the stairs ready to confirm the sniper's death. It was then a new sound drifted to him…and he bolted towards it. Heart racing within his chest. 

 Please no. He begged silently. 

 He turned the corner to see where the fight really was. The sniper had only been a diversion. Something to force them into the intended alley.

 They had played right into the enemy's hand. 

 Twelve guys in all black, faces covered, made the crowded alley even smaller. One was on the ground lying still, a pool of blood growing beneath his chest. Three were cornering Sam, taking turns attacking him with batons. Six were actively fighting Steve, trying to take him down using tasers, yet they were never able to subdue him fully.  Two had Lydia between them, both gripping one of her arms each as she struggled and thrashed to escape looking like a wildcat.

 Please no. 

 Bucky threw himself into the fight, fear and rage pouring into his blood to fuel him. He tackled one of the men cornering Sam, a knife slipping in between the man's helmet and Kevlar, blood spurting from his neck. Bucky rolled off him, and in two strides jabbed a knife into the back of the knees of one of Steve's attackers. The man dropped, howling and unable to stand. Another swipe and kick brought another man under his knife, blood oozing where a kidney was. 

 "Lydia!" Steve cried, throwing one of his attackers against the brick wall behind him. 

 The two men were trying to manhandle her into a doorway but her twisting, kicking and flailing made it difficult. 

 Bucky threw his bloodied knife into the thigh of one of them. The man stumbled, almost dropping Lydia, who cried out at the harsh treatment. Before the other man could raise his own pistol, Bucky grabbed it with his metal hand and crushed the end. Pure rage filled him at the thought of them trying to take her. He punched the man, now holding the useless gun, in the side of the head with his metal arm. The man dropped like a rock. The pistol bounced on the ground when it fell from his hand. 

 In a fluid motion, Bucky yanked the knife out of the other man's thigh and kicked him in the head. The man's head rocked back further than humanly possible with a cracking sound. 

 Silence hung over the alley after Steve and Sam knocked out or killed their attackers. Bucky stood there for a long moment, surveying the carnage around him, and trying to steady his breathing. His hands shook slightly. Blood was splattered on his black hoodie and jeans. It had been so easy -too easy- to take the lives of those men. Even though he did it to protect Steve, Sam and Lydia...his hands never felt clean. Would he ever be clean? Would he always be a monster?

 "Bucky?"

 His rage evaporated at the soft whimper of his name.

 "It's ok, doll. I got you." He pulled her into his arms, away from the bodies of the men who tried to take her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest while his own arms held her close. She trembled but if it was from fear or fading adrenaline, he was unsure. Murmuring soothing words to her, he ran a hand up and down her back in comfort. 

 Why did this have to happen tonight?

 He glanced back over to see the spread of bodies on the ground, all wearing black clothing that looked vaguely military. Nothing like what HYDRA usually wore. Sam was on the phone, probably calling the fellow Avengers for clean up and to scout the area. Steve was stepping over the downed men, coming to his side. 

 "Are you hurt?"

 Bucky shook his head, his eyes scanning over his best friend. "You good?"

 "Yeah, she ok?"

 Lydia turned her head, reaching an hand out to place on his forearm. "I'm fine...thank you."

 Steve patted her hand on his arm but did not remove it. He glanced around once more before meeting Bucky's eyes. "This doesn't...these men don't seem like HYDRA."

 "I noticed. Wrong weapons and fighting tactics. More like mercenaries."

 "Mmmm." He rubbed the back of his neck before looking at Lydia, still in Bucky's arms. "They seemed pretty intent on taking you. Any reason why?"

 That question had itched at Bucky too. HYDRA would be more interested in taking himself and Steve. She had been the focus of this attack. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they let her walk home alone. 

 "No...no...I don't recognize them."

 "It was a long shot. Well I think you should stay with…" suddenly Steve's eyes widened and he recoiled. A second later, blood soaked his white t-shirt in the middle of his chest. 

 Then the sound of a muffled shot rang out in the alley. 

 Bucky glanced over to see one of the downed men Steve had been fighting, on his knees, pistol extended. He staggered to his feet and took off back on the side road. 

 "Sam!" Bucky cried, pointing to the escaping man. 

 The Falcon did not hesitate. He raced after the man, a snarl on his face, eyes determined. 

 Turning back to his best friend, disbelief clouded his mind as he saw all the blood soaking Steve's shirt. 

 No. 

 No.

 NO! 

 Steve placed a hand on his chest, a dazed look on his face as he pulled it back and watched the blood drip off his skin. Ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees, still staring at his hand. 

 "No, no, no! Damn it, Steve! NO!" Bucky moved to his side, practically ripping the leather jacket off Steve's shoulders and tearing the t-shirt in two to see how extensive the injury was. The bullet had entered Steve's upper back, almost hitting his spine and exited the middle of his chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood poured out, leaving trails of red on Steve’s torso. 

 "Sorry, Buck."

 "No, no. Don't you start that shit. You'll be fine. Damn super soldier shit is good for something." He tried to staunch the blood flow with Steve's ripped shirt but the training in the back of his mind told him it was useless. His lungs would be filling with blood now. It would take a miracle to save him. Yet Bucky did not stop his first aid. He refused to let his best friend die. He couldn't...he could not live without Steve. They had only just found each other again. He couldn't...God, please no, not Steve...he had to live. Bucky was not ready to be alone again.

 Lydia slipped to Steve's other side. Gently she took his bloody hand and clasped it between her own. Tears coated her cheeks as she watched. 

 "Buck…"

 "No, stop talking. Everyone is on their way. Sam called them. It'll be fine."

 "I need you to…"

 "Nope, don't even start trying that speech."

 Steve rolled his eyes, blood beginning to taint his lips. "Jerk."

 "Punk."

 "Steve, look at me." Lydia stated. Both soldiers watched her, her commanding tone unable to ignore. "You're going to be alright but you'll still need to rest for a while, ok?" She glanced over at Bucky, a fire burning in her eyes. "Hold him steady."

 What?

 He did not have time to question her before the strangest thing happened.  

 Lydia leaned forward and pressed her lips to Steve's bloodied ones. One of her hands cradled the back of his head, as her kiss deepened. Even on the brink of death, Steve had no problem reciprocating. His bloodied hand cupped her cheek, leaving behind a stain on her skin. Their lips moved as if they had done this before...no hesitation...no awkward fumbling… What started off as a soft caress was turning into something more heated. 

 Bucky momentarily felt like a voyeur and was beyond confused. Steve should be saving his breath, not exerting himself. Damn that looked like a great kiss though. 

 The kiss lasted only five seconds and when they separated, both were breathing heavy like it had been far longer. Her lips were tainted red now, but her eyes shone brighter like starlight caught in her irises. 

 She looked at Bucky, tears streaming down her cheeks unashamedly. "Take care of him." Quickly she leaned over Steve, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s  hoodie, and gave him a hard kiss on the lips before standing up and dashing away. 

 "What….LYDIA!" Bucky yelled after her, watching her run down the alley and turn onto another street. Part of him wanted to chase after her and demand answers but a cough from Steve diverted his attention. 

 "Hey, it's ok. They will…."

 "Look." Steve interrupted, motioning at Bucky's hand. 

 He glanced down to see scraped knuckles, probably from when he tackled one of the men. Not a big deal. The serum would heal them within a day. Yet they were healing...immediately...right before his eyes. Within seconds, they looked completely normal, only Steve's blood marred them. 

 What?

 Immediately, Bucky pulled the torn shirt from Steve's chest, gaze locked onto the exit wound that would surely kill his best friend. A gush of blood should have resulted from the compact being removed from the wound, blood allowed to flow freely once again. Yet nothing happened. Dried blood caked his chest turning a dark red but there was nothing bright red...nothing fresh. 

 "Holy shit."

 In the next moment, Bucky felt as if the world tilted off its axis. 

 The wound slowly began to heal. Muscle and skin grew and reattached. The once graying complexion that Steve wore was returning to a healthy pink. His breathing deepened, not short, rapid breaths of dying lungs. Steve's blue eyes stared at Bucky, mouth gaping open. Curious and a bit frantic, Bucky peeled the shirt off Steve's back to see the entry wound. Both holes, once profusely bleeding and killing his best friend now looked like they were weeks healed. Some redness around the sites and fresh skin sealing the holes but still tender. 

 WHAT?!?!

 "Steve…." He did not know what else to say. His oldest friend, his best friend, his brother...he was dying...and Bucky could not save him. It was his worst nightmare come to pass. The very thing he dreaded most. Now though…

 Steve stared back at him wide-eyed before turning his head to look down the alley where Lydia fled. "She healed me….she saved…" He looked back at Bucky. "Who is she?"

 "I'm not sure…"

 "We need to find her."

 Steve started to get up but Bucky pushed him back down. "You were just shot, punk. She said to rest."

 "We can't let her get away! What if more of these mercenaries find her?!"

 "We'll look for her. Wait till the others get here. I'll go with Sam." Bucky held Steve's gaze until he relented, slumping back onto the unforgiving, concrete ground.

 The sounds of the city enveloped the quiet of the alley- car horns, sirens blaring, someone singing loudly the next street over. The two sat there, waiting and thinking. Both of their minds struggling to fully comprehend what just happened but desperate to chase after her.  

 "You just want another kiss, huh?"

 Steve chuckled, rubbing a hand over his chest and wincing. "That was some kiss. It felt like electricity going through my veins."

 Bucky thought of his own quick peck and how it felt like a shock hitting him. "Yeah. That's some dame."

 "Find her, Buck. I don't…" He sighed.. "It felt...no, she felt right."

 All Bucky could do was nod. He prayed she stayed safe until they could find her. Something in his gut told him they needed her. He looked down the alley once more, wondering where she went and who she really was.