#the shorts are literally just one of my pairs of shorts

[matchaelette]

here's an idea! jungkook teaching ash to box!! imagine how cute it'll be, he'll keep praising his girl and said girl will actually shock him w her skills hehehe

GIF by @jung-koook

when you want to learn boxing and jungkook’s method of teaching it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, shoutout to anonie, their idea explains it all <3 it’s pure, unadulterated love and we’re just here for the vibes, as we generally are in my drabbles.

genre: fluff

warnings: does jungkook being disgustingly in love count?

word count: 1.9k

notes: kim seokjin is back homeehehehehehehe and namjoon welcomed him playing a saxophone— I missed them so. so. so. much. happy 11th anniversary to our found family guys <3

it was one of those rare days.

having the air conditioner turned on just a short while ago, the air around jungkook feels hot and suffocating. for a whole minute, he contemplates knocking over the glass of iced latte over the countertop and letting it soothe his sweltering skin.

it has probably been less than thirty minutes since he woke up, today being one of those rare days he woke up to your kisses instead of good morning texts. he rolled out of bed in a hazy bliss, brushed his teeth, put on a t-shirt, and waddled his way into the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of you while you decided to go downstairs to check the mail.

now, he’s standing over the stove with a spatula, patiently waiting for the pancakes to cook and not letting his impulsive thoughts win. it was one of those very rare, and quite unusual days, where both of you had the morning off together. he didn’t want to waste even a single second doing unnecessary things without you, such as, perhaps, cleaning the coffee he voluntarily spilled. he’d rather—

but jungkook is broken out of the reverie when he hears a click on the door.

“jungkoooookie! the boxing gloves are here!”

if the click on the door wasn’t enough, your amped-up voice certainly was, to break his train of thoughts.

the door shut behind you with a loud thud— the same thud that you’ve told your beloved boyfriend plenty of times not to make— echoing through the whole house (tell me jungkook. is it so hard to close the door gently or do you just like the sound?). one of your hands is holding onto a glass of iced latte jungkook made for you just minutes ago, sipping it with a straw and another one is secured around a huge white package clutched onto your chest. but jungkook stares at you instead.

you’re wearing one of jungkook’s baby blue oversized shirts, paired with the same black boxers he carelessly tossed on the floors last night, hair swept up into a messy bun. fuck, did you actually wear his boxers downstairs? jungkook suddenly felt himself burning up and he was sure the scathing heat of the day had nothing to do with it.

“kook, hello? look! the boxing gloves are here!”

jungkook, once again distracted by his train of unholy thoughts, blinks when you spin gracefully and land in front of him with a princessy curtsy. the action makes him break out in a wide smile unknowingly, and he suddenly realizes the source of your uncontained glee.

“the boxing gloves are here?”, he asks you, his smile is a literal ray of sunshine. a few weeks ago, jungkook dragged you to one of his boxing training sessions, and it somehow piqued your interest, even though you never really gave it much thought. you were like that, always trying new things and tossing them away as soon as you got the hang of it, floating from one thing to the next like a butterfly. maybe that’s why people played you too. loving you way too easily, discarding you even more easily, just as you begin to love them back.

jeon jungkook didn’t. the thought never once crossed his mind.

“yeah! c’mon let’s open it!”

“give me a second, princess. the pancakes will go up”

“just so you know, I ordered a pair for you as well”, you tell him, making your way to the living room couch.

“really? but babe, I already have way too many”, jungkook follows you soon after, carrying a plate stacked with pancakes, topped with berries and peanut butter just the way you like it. he sets the plate on the side table and sits beside you.

for a brief moment, jungkook’s face fills with confusion.

“yeah but you don’t have—”, you rip open the package, “—this one!”

then he throws his head back in laughter.

the boxing gloves you are holding up triumphantly are black in color, snug and thick and padded with patent leather, perfectly normal, until you notice the white patch covering the area from the knuckles to the wrist— a blonde kim seokjin, mouth stuffed with ramen, face contorted into a totally ridiculous expression.

“see? isn’t it amazing?”

“oh man, holy shit”. jungkook doubles over in laughter, hitting his own thigh repeatedly in the process, “oh my god, where did you find these?! this is absolutely gold!”

“I have my ways”, you flash him a wicked smile, “I knew you’d like ‘em!”

“like them? I am never taking these off!”

“look at my one!”

second wave of laughter hits jungkook when he sees your comparatively smaller boxing gloves. it’s the same black ones as jungkook’s, with the same white patch in the middle but this one portrays a young park jimin in the iconic red bullet concert, eyes smeared with black eyeliner and lips pouting in an ‘ayo’.

“I told you it’s amazing!”

jungkook just laughs uncontrollably, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“I was looking for one with you on it but unfortunately they were all sold out”, you snicker, attempting to put on the gloves and try them out.

“fortunate for me”, jungkook’s laughter is unstoppable, “man, I gotta show these to the hyungs. immediately.”

“after you teach me to box! c’mon c’mon c’mon!”, you spring up from the couch, hopping your way to retrieve one of jungkook’s punching bags, in the corner of the living room where he usually keeps his gym essentials.

“princess”, jungkook’s laughter subsides, and he grabs onto you immediately, “not now. after breakfast.”

“naaaaur—”

“after breakfast”, he says, a stern look in his eyes. and there’s no room left for any arguments anymore.

“but I don't want to defend!”

“babe, you can’t just attack people, you have to defend yourself too!”, jungkook exasperated.

“now, tuck your arms”. jungkook instructs you but then proceeds to bring your arms up to your chin and tuck them by your side himself. “stepping forward would help you initiate a very powerful jab. and stepping backward would help you create a distance between you and your opponent, so it’s the best immediate defense. continue moving back and forth to maintain a powerful stance.”

“okay. which foot stays forward again?”

“keep your feet shoulder-width apart. you’re right-handed, so your right foot stays backward.”

“right foot points at two o’clock, right?”, your focus is solely on your boyfriend, trying your best to follow through with whatever he’s saying. jungkook just wants to kiss you.

“yeah. bend your knees slightly.”

“no no no, not that much— unless you’re getting on your knees for me?”

“jungkook!”

“okay okay! you’re perfect”, jungkook moves a few inches backward and flashes you a mischievous grin, but can’t help being proud of you. he didn’t even have to tell you much and you were already in a perfect stance, certainly much better than him when he was starting out. “now have a go at me. I wanna see your strength. then I’ll teach you the different punches.”

you take position, but hesitate. “okay— how hard am I supposed to hit exactly?”

“huh?”

“could you punch me and show me how much strength i’m supposed to use?”

“really?”, jungkook looks offended but amusement fills him.

“yes! I just want to know if I should go all out or keep it light.”

“you want me to punch you?”

“oh my god, you’ll survive not being a gentleman for five seconds, jungkook”, you say impatiently, “now punch me!”

jungkook, unsurprisingly, doesn’t do what he’s told. instead, wraps his arms around your waist and smashes his mouth against yours, swallowing your surprised squeal with a smirk. in a flash, your head spins and you lose your balance into an abyss of delight. jungkook knows you all too well and presses you against him when you try to grab his shoulders out of reflex (don’t you know he’d never let you fall?) but fail because of your glove-cladded hands. your lips taste sweet and savory, the peanut butter and berries combining into a deadly experience he’s not sure his heart could handle.

yet he never hesitates to steal your breath.

when jungkook lets you go, it takes you several minutes before you can talk. or think.

“what are you doing?”, you whisper.

just what he’s wanting to do… always.

“i’m never gonna learn boxing this way”, you sigh.

“what way?”, jungkook’s breathing is heavy but the smirk on his face says a million other things.

“this way you’re—”, you shake your head and peer blearily, “wait, what was I saying again?”

“c’mon princess, you don’t need me to punch you. just land a punch on me. give me your best shot.”

you mouth an ‘okay’ and fall into stance, as jungkook instructed. “is this okay?”

“good girl”, jungkook teases, which has you losing your focus for a second. but then, you shake your head and direct your shot at his abs, self-instructed.

the punch lands hard and square on him, causing the doe-eyed boy to stagger several steps backward, gripping his abdomen with clear astonishment.

“babe! did you really hit me?!”

“wha— you told me to!”

“I didn’t expect you actually would!”

“what did you expect?”, you’re nonchalant but the redness creeping up your cheeks isn’t, “i’d kiss you senseless after you asked me to land a punch on you?”

jungkook dramatically collapses on the floor, shaking violently with fake coughs. you snort at his antics and offer your hand to your boyfriend to help him up but he doesn’t give you the chance— he grabs onto it and pulls you down. the unexpected gesture throws you off balance and you land directly on top of him. you yelp, but jungkook doesn’t even flinch. he quickly secures his grip around you, making sure not an inch of your body touches the floor or gets hurt.

“jungkook! you—”

said jungkook cuts you short, gently pressing his lips against yours, once again making you forget time and space. what were you planning to say? however, he doesn’t give you any time to think— moving away from your lips and peppering your entire face with kisses. you burst out into giggles and jungkook sighs with satisfaction— that’s it, that’s the smile he’s so helpless in love with.

“is this your idea of teaching me boxing?”, you put your hands on your boyfriend’s chest, lifting yourself up and sitting beside him.

“that was the reward of a punch excellently thrown.”

“oh, you gotta be kidding me. are you planning to reward me after every punch?”

“that’s a very good idea. but jokes aside babe, that was one heck of a punch”, jungkook beams at you, propping himself up on his arms.

you laugh.

“okay, remember when you couldn’t take piano lessons from yoongi oppa because he wouldn’t stop praising you? that’s exactly where this is going.”

“I mean it! that was a really, really solid punch, I did not expect that at all!”. oh, but he did. he has an unbreakable confidence in you that he wished you had in yourself.

“what can I say? you’re being a very good girl”, he winks.

“kook, you're a terrible teacher! you shouldn't flirt with your students!”, you scold him.

“forget what a teacher does. i’d rather do you instead.”

[hoshinasblade]

housing is a human right and fencing instructor!hoshina soshiro is living rent-free in my head

eyes on me

pairing: fencing instructor!hoshina soshiro x f!reader tw: none, fluff note: this is just short, but if this gets enough notes i plan on writing a full-length. this will also be the last post for this week, im going to focus on the main fics im working on. i might have to post a masterlist already too so i can track my drabbles lol. likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated. feel free to send me an ask here!

hoshina soshiro who hails from one of the most prominent sword masters' families. the youngest member of a wealthy clan, he was lucky enough to be born into privilege - he could live his entire life without having to hold a job. this has allowed him to pursue his passion for teaching swordsmanship.

 you are a college student from the city who enrolled to hoshina's fencing course because you took the sport as an elective for your program last year. on the orientation of the course though, you just did not expect the instructor to be so young. and so damn hot.

"eyes on me", were his first words to you. hoshina had noticed you were looking everywhere but at him, and it had started to frustrate him. how can you guard against his attacks if you are staring at the wall behind him?

"it's like making eye contact with a cat", you explained to another student when both of you were removing your fencing jackets by the end of class. "a very attractive cat", you got as a response. "maybe we should have had chosen somewhere with an ugly instructor", you joked, only to regret opening your mouth as you saw hoshina standing literally just a few feet away obviously overhearing your conversation.

you spent the majority of that night debating with yourself whether you should even show up to the fencing class the day after. you were pretty sure you had made a fool out of yourself in front of hoshina. "being tardy is not something fencing should teach you", he said to you with a blank expression when you arrived late that next morning. "can ya stay after class?"

"spar with me?" he was holding out a sabre to you. you took the weapon, feeling the weight of it on your hand. you could cut the tension with this blade, you said to yourself, giggling at your own stupid remark.

"keep yer eyes on me", he commanded. he lunged; you parried. the exchange of offense and defense between you looked like a graceful dance. a quick google search after your first day told you hoshina soshiro had won multiple medals for fencing - he is not only competent, but he also very competitive. which is why you were surprised that he actually fell for the feint move you pulled on him. you won the match.

"did you -" you started in an accusing tone "- just go easy on me?" you were still catching your breath and you were sweaty all over, having just taken off your protective mask; a few hair strands were sticking to your forehead.

hoshina rolled his eyes. "oh so yer apparently capable of talking to me it seems", he responded in a tone that sounded more accusatory than yours. you were speechless. "listen, if ya are going to keep being distracted because yer opponent is too good-looking you'll always lose. look at what happened to m -" you almost missed what he said last. the blush on his cheeks bloomed.

you tried to pretend you were wiping sweat from your face to hide the fact that you couldn't suppress a smile. "fine, i'll keep my eyes on you next time", you promised.

"just so ya know, i am partial to cats." color drained from you and you couldn't help the groan that fell from your lips as he alluded to that exchange you had with your classmate, to when you referred to him as a cat. you weren't sure if he was being serious. you took the bait.

"i prefer cats too", you replied maybe a little too fast.

" as ya should", he said proudly, obviously having understood the meaning behind your words. "don't be late tomorrow", he playfully scolded you. and just when he was about to leave, he said, "and stay after class again too."

[kageyomomma]

little black dress - iwaizumi x reader

summary: inspired by this textpost

listen ik i said i was working on a kuroo piece but this idea came to me at literally 3am the night after i finished my rewatch of season 2 and i wrote it in my notes app while i was half asleep (& i did not proof it lol)

hope y'all don't hate it!

Friday afternoon always seemed to drag on at work. There was nothing left on your task list, so you had resorted to gossiping with your coworkers to pass the time. You had just let out a gasp at something one of them had said, when your phone lit up with a notification. The message was from your boyfriend, Hajime.

hajime <3:

Hey babe, do we have any plans tonight?

you:

not that i know of, did you have something in mind?

hajime <3:

Well, Oikawa just called me. Apparently he is in town for a few days and asked if we wanted to go out for drinks tonight.

you:

aw yeah that sounds fun! i always love getting to see tooru

hajime <3:

Alright, I'll try to find out the plan. See you at home beautiful.

You smiled at your phone and returned your attention to your coworkers.

"Everything okay over there?" One of them asked you, noticing that you had momentarily checked out of the conversation.

"Yeah that was my boyfriend, he said his old friend is in town and asked if we wanted to go out with him tonight."

"Ohhhhh!" Your other coworker exclaimed, "(Y/N) this is this perfect chance to wear that dress you showed us last week!"

You bit your finger nail as you recalled the little black dress that you impulsively bought last week. You had tried it on when it came in, and it looked fantastic on you, but it was also very short. Iwaizumi was not an overly controlling boyfriend, but you also wanted to respect him and your relationship. You smiled and nodded at your coworker, but did not say anything as you thought about the dress hanging in your closet.

After work you headed straight home, still feeling conflicted about your outfit for the evening. Iwaizumi was already home when you arrived. He greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"Oikawa said he would meet us at 8 o'clock at that nice place downtown, you know how boujee he is," Iwaizumi said with a huff of laughter.

"I better start getting ready then."

About an hour later you were standing in your closet in a towel staring at the racks of clothes. Your eyes kept drifting back to the black dress that your coworker mentioned earlier.

'Fuck it' you thought as you grabbed it and went to finish getting ready.

7:30 rolls around and you are looking in the mirror to make sure everything is in place. Your hair is sitting perfectly, framing your face with soft curls. The bold-ish make up look that you went with looked immaculate, and your red lipstick paired beautifully with the little black dress. Iwaizumi walked in as you were strapping on your heels.

"Babe are you ready to g-" he started, but stopped in his tracks as he saw you. "Wow, you look absolutely incredible."

You stood up and offered him a small smile, "Are you sure this dress isn't too much? I feel like this dress is too short, and it's kinda low cut, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Iwaizumi scoffed and flexed his arms, carefully examining each of his biceps. His attention turned back to you, and he grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. He leaned toward your face until his lips were only a breath away and said, "wear whatever you want babe, I can fight."

bonus:

When you and Iwaizumi arrived 15 minutes late to meet Oikawa, it didn't take long for him to notice the red lipstick peeking out from under the collar of his friends shirt.

[blubushie]

i honestly feel like the effeminate gay thing is smth that people do to make queer men seem as non-threatening as possible. like see they are the good ones because femininity = good and harmless, masculinity = scary and evil

That's literally it. And it's something we do to ourselves too because of the stereotype.

I've known men who play up their feminity because they don't feel space in queer spaces otherwise. I worked an event with one once where he was doing THE stereotype behaviour—the fag hand, the lisp, the hip tilt, the "guuurl" and "sisterrrr" and giggles and acting like an absolute princess. Think James Charles, but bigger and buffer. He had a runner's body.

And then as soon as the event's over it's just me and him in the building, cleaning up stacking chairs putting tables away, and this cunt goes in one of the deepest gruffest voices I ever heard, "[heavy sigh] That was a fucking chore."

And he's standing like a man. Like a very exhausted, but very masculine, man. No hip tilt, no lisp, he's raking his hair back with his black painted nails and asks me if I can find some wipes to get "this shit off" while he gestures to his face (referring to his very vibrant eye shadow). So I get him some wipes and he's grumbling about how bullshit it is that he "has to do this" and I don't know what the fuck he's talking about, but then I realise this bloke is like... Actually really masculine. He's got a short beard, he looks like he'd be better fit in a business suit or in shorts at a barbie than at this event in a "QUEER IS HERE" rainbow tie-dye shirt and black skinny jeans.

And he looks at me and kinda sighs and goes "How do you stand it?" And he looks me up and down.

"Stand what?"

"Way they look at you like that. Like they hate you."

And I don't know what the fuck he's talking about, because I'm 21 and dumb and just excited to be at a pride event cuz I get to go to them so rarely. But then I think about how the pair of lesbians looked at me. And one of the drag queens, and the trans woman, and that transmasc kid who came with his mum, and the two gay men there were both effeminate twinks, and he's right. No one talked to me. No one approached me. I was an outsider the whole time, treated like an invader. The only two people who spoke to me was a woman who cracked onto me and I told her I'm only interested in men (was still recovering from my losing my gf and I wasn't interested in a hookup) and she tried flirting harder like she could convince me, and this bloke, who saw me standing myself twiddling my thumbs and asked if I was ok.

And I think of that cis-passing FTM bear I met at my first pride event, and how no one talked to us, and we spent the arvo into the evening just drinking and shooting the shit with each other cuz no one else would even approach us. And I think of the comments that were made about them "not feeling safe around men", and the way they'd glanced at us when they said it.

And things click.

And then he walks over to me, and puts an arm around my shoulders, and puts a tinny in my hand and says that puts himself on like that cuz if he doesn't, he's ostracised within his own community. He's scorned by his own fucking community unless he files down his male edges into something effeminate and timid and harmless. If he doesn't he's ignored, or people say they're uncomfortable around him because he acts and looks too masculine, or he's asked to leave because people don't feel safe with him there.

I don't go to pride events anymore.

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[sturnioloisland]

Happier | M.S.

Hello everyone :) this is very much my first time posting on tumblr, and I quite literally have no clue what I am doing.

I’m also making this post from my phone, so if it’s messed up just ignore it. Let me know if y’all like this or hate it. Either one is fine.

Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I posted something similar to this on ao3 many a years ago when I was part of a different fandom.

Matt walked down the sidewalk heading towards his favorite coffee shop he used to frequently visit. Within the last month, he seemed to be living in a constant nightmare. He’d wake up everyday alone without her body next to him. He no longer got to see that warm and beautiful smile first thing when he woke up.

Every night was a battle to fall asleep and every morning was a struggle to get out of bed. He regretted his decision, and if he could take back everything he said, he would in a heartbeat. It was just a stupid fight because of his own insecurities. 

Matt remembers the look on her face after he spewed those hateful words. He remembers the tears in her eyes when he said he didn’t love her anymore. He didn’t mean to say it, but he did, and he struggles living with the consequences of his words.

The cold wind nipped at his nose as he approached the coffee shop. It had been a while since Matt had been there. This was the place where they had their first few dates. Melancholy was set deep in his heart, and he couldn’t shake that feeling away. What he would do to go back in time and change the happenings of that night.

He finally reached the shop and quickly entered, the warmth inside immediately thawing his shivering limbs. Matt was always cold, but the girl he once loved - still loved - was always warm, and Matt used to always melt into her embrace.

The line was rather short with only a few people in front of him. Matt already had his order in mind. It was the same thing he got every time. Soon enough he reached the register, immediately recognizing the barista as someone who used to work all the time when he came in with her.

“Hey,” He said with a warm smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here. You used to come in all the time.”

Matt smiled timidly and gazed down at his feet. “Yeah, yeah it has been a while, but I plan on coming back more. I sure do miss the muffins you guys sell here.” 

The barista chuckled, “So I take it that you’ll be having your usual order then?”

Matt nodded.

“Okay, I’ll get right to it. It was good to see you again. You disappeared for a few months, so I hope you’re doing well.”

Matt once again flashed him a fake smile, “It was good to see you too.” He finished paying for his order and stepped to the side - secretly grateful he wasn’t asked about why he was there without her.

He messed around on his phone looking through messages from friends who were still checking up on him. He felt guilty for never responding to them, but he didn’t know how. All of them asked how he was or if he was okay or even if he needed anything from them. The one thing he wanted was something that they couldn’t give him.

He scrolled through his camera roll looking at old pictures, the guilt slowly creeping back into him as he looked at the old photos he never bothered to delete. Matt felt that familiar burning sensation behind his eyes and quickly closed the camera roll on his phone. He wouldn’t cry in public. No, he wouldn’t cry at all. He’s done too much of that.

“Matt?” A barista called out as his order was finished. He walked to the counter, grabbed his coffee and warm muffin and thanked the barista before turning to head out, pausing only to grab a few napkins.

On the way out, he saw a familiar head of hair that was styled in a way that he remembered seeing it. He stopped dead in his tracks as he came to realize who it was. The girl whose heart he shattered into a million pieces was standing in line just about four feet away from him. 

She looked as beautiful as San remembered her being. Her beautiful eyes, the small mole under them, her hair, and most importantly her smile. She was smiling brightly, and Matt felt the glass around his heart shatter because she wasn’t alone. No, she was holding hands with another man. A man that wasn’t him.

Matt was staring and he was sure the girl felt his eyes burning into her, for when the latter turned her head to face Matt, that enchanting smile faltered. They both stared at each other, both in disbelief of seeing the other. It was she who broke the silence between them.

“Hi Matt.” Her tone was bitter, and Matt didn’t blame her at all. He broke her heart into a million pieces and left verbal wounds that he knew he could never take back no matter how much he wanted to. He broke the girl’s heart, and Matt was in disbelief that she even acknowledged him.

He hesitated. He hadn’t said her name in so long, and he was trying not to choke on his words. It was a name he used to say full of love and passion. A name that was now just reduced to a memory of something good he once had, something good that he ruined. “Hi y/n.”

A/n again: sorry if this sucks. It was quite literally the one and only thing I have ever written.

[vioqueenofmushrooms]

Have a little low effort Luidaeg, which is officially my first completed art of the year! Though I have another that's basically finished I started first

[invinciblerodent]

.

[mellotronmkll]

I hate all of my clothes I only feel comfortable and confident in like 4 pieces of clothing and I hate everything else but I hate shopping for clothes even more plus it costs money so I feel like I'm just stuck wearing clothes I hate and look stupid in and it's so so much worse in the summer because I own literally one pair of pants that are weather appropriate that fit me that I also don't want to kill myself while wearing and they're not even cute. But I just wear them every single day

[mishtershpock]

.

[hecksupremechips]

Actually cry so goddamn hard when I think about Shinjiro Aragaki healing and being loved and having to learn to be okay with himself and being taken care of

[pepprs]

discovered miah_pie on t*ktok (<- i don’t have one btw i just stumbled upon her bc someone i follow on ig talked abt her) and her videos make me want to cry so bad. 24 year old dependent moment

[szczylpierdolony]

purchased a pair of shoes.

[creepyscritches]

Been making amigurumis for a little over a month and a half now and my hands haven't broken down from anything yet :Oc

Imagine the little babies I could be making now if I hadn't had to stop crocheting when I was 17 bc my hands were deteriorating so bad and I had to pick a single craft to focus on and leave everything else behind (it was 2D art lol....)

I. Can. Make. Them. NOW!!! No gods no masters no limits baby I'm making shit so cute it makes me want to crush them >:O

[skinreflectsthesun]

.

[zeawesomebirdie]

Chronic fatigue time woot woot, time to read all those fic recs, reread my favorite fics, and get back to typesetting