…this was only going to be a tiny little second scene for @inediblesushi‘s and @beardysteve‘s Steve Rogers art robin hood AU, so I don’t really know how we ended up at like 3k words, but
HERE WE ARE, SO.
Bucky definitely wasn’t supposed to be here. The gallery had
closed hours ago. The lights had been shut off, only the emergency lighting illuminating
the floor. The security system, the cameras, were turned on, the doors were securely locked–or they had been until Bucky had arrived.
But Steve had specifically mentioned this gallery that night at the fundraiser. Not in a positive way. It was private, entry by
invitation only, the art locked away for the same bright and beautiful (rich) people
that had made up the fundraiser invitees. Steve’s eyes had flashed anger
when he’d described it to Bucky.
When Steve had talked about the pieces, though, hidden away from the public who should be enjoying them, Bucky’s arm
tucked against his side, his voice had been deep, passionate, half-way in love.
ok these pics are super shitty guys I’m so bad at selfies BUT here’s what my halloween costume is basically gonna look like next weekend :D
I figure this is lich!lup, not necessarily reaper!lup, hence the simplicity of it
skeleton leggings, skeleton tank, skeleton elbow-length gloves, skeleton shoes THAT GLOW IN THE DARK, my taaco twin latex ears, and the IPRE robe I used for denver comic con
might do something a liiiiitle bit different with the mouth makeup idk, and the tank top is pinned at the shoulder atm because i need to tack it and i’ll blend the ears a little better and like, actually wash my hair?
ANYWAY IM PRETTY STOKED WITH THIS
part of me wants to distress the ends of my robe but im also kinda hesitant to destroy it… it’d look cool tho
anything I’m missing that I could throw together in the next week?
Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been on here. I’m finally finding myself to write today and plan to have a request up tonight. This will be the last part for Inquisitive Snake and I have updated my masterlist as parts 8 and 9 weren’t on there. Thank you guys for all the sweet messages during my time off. I appreciate you all. Sorry it’s short again.
She stared at me with wide eyes. Confused by my actions of giving her a slight kiss. Her eyes finally focused as she looked me up and down. “I don’t….”
I cut her off, “was that wrong? I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for a while and then you were just standing there being you….and I just….”, my words got quieter as I rambled all of my thoughts out loud. Realizing a kiss wasn’t what she wanted.
ENTJ: *sitting cross legged with foot propped up*
INTP *about to poke ENTJs shoe with a pencil*
ENTJ: Do NOT touch mY SHOE
INTJ *to INTP*: May I just say, for the second time–Are you aware of how weird your life sounds?
INTP: Oh I’m aware.
“As a child in World War Two, I explored a bombed-out church in the Gorbals and came across a small bird lying in the ruins. I quietly approached it to avoid alarming it, near enough to see it was apparently breathing and asleep. I reached out to hold it. Suddenly something subconscious froze my movement. As I stood and watched its breast rise and fall I identified the sweet smell of putrescence and gingerly touched the bird with my shoe. It was a vessel of seething maggots. My first lesson in the deception of nature and life. Disgust gave way to pity and I built a tomb around it with bricks. I assume that gave rise to the stereotypical fable that I once buried a cat alive.” - Ian Brady
In a place as vibrant as a football match, you would have expected me to be happy. All smiles, all wide with a drink in my hand and cheers so loud that the woman next to me either would hate me or be so intoxicated with my happiness that she’d join in.
And normally, that was me. Put me in a stadium, any stadium whether it was a team I was passionate about or not, and I was hopping around like a mad woman.
Sadly, that wasn’t the case today. Set up in the players’ guests area, I was much more somber and tucked into my chair like I was at home laid up on my couch. My back was pressed against the seat and the soles of my shoes touching the chair while I wrapped my arms around my bent legs that sat close to my chest. I definitely didn’t have the most welcoming exterior and that was on purpose.
Chatter filled the VIP box, most of it not even revolving around the game as the two women new to the usual crowd dropped their unusual conversation topics between the distracted men around them. Shoes, fashion, clubs, all the sorts of things you don’t even think to mention when you’re at a football match and the men were really only interested because these women were attractive.
The sorts of women you may have seen in between the pages of Elle, because they weren’t that special enough to cover a Vogue. The sorts of women that frequented certain social circles for the prestige that came with them. The sorts of women that you avoided at all costs if you were like me.
I guess that’s why they were here because there was nothing like a VIP suite or the special seating areas scattered around Camp Nou that held the most influential people around town or in this case, the most beautiful people who were looking to make a connection with those special people.
Their target: Neymar.
And to be honest, I didn’t have any doubt they would reach their target. In fact it seemed they already had somewhat. That’s how they got in these seats in the first place and even if they had yet to come face to face with him, Neymar wasn’t the type that could ignore these women.
They stood out in the sea of Barcelona colors, instead donning these long designer trench coats paired with casual jeans and heels so high I wouldn’t dare slip my feet into them. Their hair was primped and prepped, straightened and shined so perfectly that whenever they turned their head you could see the tint of their now somewhat faded highlights. Diamonds glistened off their wrist, neck and ears whenever they tossed their head back to let out one of those exaggerated laughs whenever Gil told a corny joke.
It was nauseating and no one even really noticed my dissatisfaction as they were too busy attending to their guests to care about little old me.
I was always here, dressed in my 2012 away Barcelona kit and my running shoes either paired with a pair of shorts or jeans depending on the temperature. No one was looking to entertain me.
The strong yet gentle touch of two male hands squeezing my shoulders caused me to look over my shoulder where I sat, Bryce looking down at me as those emerald green eyes shined under the afternoon sun.
At least I had Bryce.
The equally quiet, easily focused during matches Bryce who was also a friend of Neymar’s but seemingly less influenced by the gorgeous looks of the attendees. He let go of his hold on my shoulder and slipped into the empty seat next to me that was usually occupied by Gil.
“You seem quiet. Something wrong? Aside from the game being scoreless,” he chuckled.
He knew how much I loved an early goal.
For Barcelona of course.
I gave off a pathetic shrug that didn’t do too much to mask my annoyance. That was largely on purpose. I wasn’t going to cover up that I was a little annoyed with being here and that if I hadn’t promised Ney to see him after the game, I would have made an early departure. “Who comes to a match and talks about everything but the match?”
Bryce broke out into a small laugh, his lips separating as those sparkling white teeth showed behind the pink separation. I was surprised they weren’t over here trying to swoon him. He was easily the most gorgeous of Neymar’s friends, second only to him of course when they traveled out in large groups. He also had this personality that made him a bit more exclusive to the rest, not as willing to entertain the random groupies that surrounded him so often. “Women who don’t watch the sport. Not everyone’s a fanatic like you.”
“Then maybe they should be at the shopping center instead of here,” I grumbled.
“The jealousy is just oozing from your skin,” he chuckled, his hand jokingly running against my arm before I laughed and slapped it away. “Shut up. I’m not jealous.”
“Just admit you love the guy.”
“It’s funny you say that…”
My hand went fishing into the tight pocket of my jeans, finally freeing my phone from it. I usually paid the device little to no attention during matches, superstitious reasons, but I couldn’t help but bring this up while I could. While Neymar and his usual source of confidantes weren’t around.
I headed into my inbox, cycling past the usual group messages that littered my inbox and headed into my thread with Neymar. Conveniently his name in my phone was simply an emoji of a cake.
A story to be explained later.
I traveled further up the thread and silently handed the phone over to Bryce who took it with an inquisitive, raised eyebrow. He asked no questions but simply began reading what was on the screen for him to process. Nearly 24 hours later and I was still processing it myself.
Me, Neymar, the word love, all encompassed in the same message.
At first I had read the message as if it was a mistake, maybe thinking that my reading glasses were as scratched and damaged as my mother liked to complain they were but hours later the text still remained.
That was all the text message from Neymar had said and sure, it was that shorthand form of an I love you that most women complained about whenever their boyfriend sent it, complaining about the laziness behind it all to omit the I and the additional letters of y and o but for me it was a huge step from a man I didn’t even know considered me anything past the body that kept him warm some late nights with sex omitted from the equation.
Yes, Neymar and I had never physically been together but emotionally, we were like that.
I just didn’t know that the that included his thoughts of loving me. Me of all people.
The thing about Ney was he was a bit washy at times meaning there were days where he was incredibly sweet and made my knees weak while there were other nights I couldn’t even get a hold of him because he would skip our nightly conversations for fun nights out with Gil.
I didn’t ask for much. Attention here and there was all that I really could demand in a friendly capacity. It wasn’t like we were dating but the delight that briefly flickered in the orbs of Bryce showed that this was a welcome, and a bit surprising, occurrence. “He told you he loved you?” He slowly began passing the phone back off to me which I took, glancing down at the message I had looked at numerous times throughout the day before sliding it securely back into my pocket.
“You never responded though. I’m confused. You just broke off into some conversation about Narcos thirty minutes later and he let you just ignore his message?” The disbelief was readily heard in his tone and I sheepishly cowered some in my seat. I realized my stupid mistake without having to be reminded of it.
“Yeah…well…I didn’t really know how to respond so I waited a bit and then I felt ridiculous for not responding at all so we started talking about the last few episodes. Which reminds me did you see the episode whe—“
I was quickly cut off with an outstretched warning hand. “No spoilers. But what? That’s crazy. You can’t just ignore the guy saying he loves you.”
“I know. I know. I just…” My sentence trailed and my thought process was broken as soon as screams erupted around us. I had let myself get too distracted apparently because when I stood to see what was going on on the field, the players were all gathered into a hug and celebrating a goal. I clapped with enthusiasm, everyone else standing up and excited in the box as well except the two prissy girls that had decided standing up and clapping was too much work.
Goodness, I couldn’t wait to rid myself of them.
The game progressed and by the end, I was a happy fan, chanting along and singing with Bryce as we descended the many steps with everyone else in our group following slowly behind. We would have to keep busy for at least the next hour before Neymar was free to end his day and head off with us.
Time seemed to go quickly as I tweeted off my congratulations for the team and talked more with Bryce, purposely avoiding the blonde and brunette still being entertained by Gil and a few others.
Bryce and I were linked as his arm was draped around my waist and mine his, our silliness briefly showing as we broke off into chants and songs once again. Ney chuckled as soon as he saw us, walking up just shaking his head and laughing.
“Alright. Quit embarrassing yourselves.” He snaked his hand between us to cut off the contact though in a playful manner replacing Bryce’s body with his own. He gave off one of those soft smiles that was hard to describe but I knew behind it he wanted to say a lot more than he did. He didn’t have much time to before everyone else was sauntering up to us with congratulations. B&B as I liked to call them now as I had completely forgotten their names led the pack.
“Congrats on the win.” The blonde’s outstretched hand reached out to delicately run against Neymar’s arm in a flirtatious manner while her counterpart stood with a toying smirk.
So that was her name…
“And Lei. Thanks for coming,” he nodded off to the brunette.
She took that as an opportunity to step forward and speak. “Sooo we were probably going to head and grab some food then maybe take a night out. Coming?” The poke of her arched eyebrow showed that maybe she was hinting at more than a night of drinks. Yet another moment I felt nauseous but when I tried to snake my arm from around Neymar to separate our bodies, he just used his hand to push my hip closer into his, his eyes still remaining fixated on the woman.
“I think I’m going to stay behind this time but thanks.”
“Yeah. We sort of had plans,” he said as he pointed between the two of us. I temporarily showed my confusion before fixing my face. The two women seemed disappointed but the rest of the group did not, probably thankful they wouldn’t have to fight for their attention with Neymar missing.
He briefly said his goodbyes and so did I before he was pulling me in the opposite direction of everyone else, his arm still comfortably draped around my shoulder.
“We made plans today?”
He gave off a soft chuckle and shook his head. “No but I feel like we have some talking to do.” He removed his arm and stopped our walking as we temporarily stood alone in the deserted hall area. He moved to rest comfortably against the wall with his arms crossed. “My text…”
“Right…Okay. So I really looked like an idiot for not responding but I can explain it.”
“You’re not good for me,” I responded bluntly. He seemed amused as he laughed a bit. “Excuse me?”
“Neymar, you’re…Neymar! You have women like that,” I said in reference to B & B, “chasing after you 24/7 and temptation is probably a bitch. I’ll admit, it’s nice to think that you mean that I love you in a ‘Wow, you could be my girlfriend one day’ sort of way but I think you meant it more as a careful, friendly way of saying you care for me and me saying it back would have an entirely different meaning. I don’t want to dig myself into that hole so many women get caught into falling for the attractive guy friend that every girl wants and having to watch him flutter off with someone else.”
Again, there was another chuckle though much louder and empathic than the last one. “Flutter off? That’s what you think I’m going to do?”
“Is it not?”
“Flutter off with you, yeah. Do you think I just call you to warm my bed and see you in that ridiculous onesie you wear?”
I hit his chest with a playful shove. “Neymar!”
“Okay okay. But I’m serious. I don’t just throw out that word and I was expecting it back. Not some message about a tv show.”
I didn’t respond with words as instead another idea immediately popped in my head. I grabbed for my phone and Ney looked at me with confusion. “What are you doing?”
I offered no explanation but instead began texting the message he had been waiting on for 24 hours. There it was, all spelled out for him to see and coming from me…
When his phone vibrated, he quickly grabbed for it and looked down at my message. A slow smirk spread honey slow across his lips. His eyes flickered back and forth between me and the message. “You didn’t spell it out.”
“You didn’t say ‘I love you’. You only said ‘love u too’. You’re missing a bit.” He flashed me his screen as if I hadn’t just sent the message myself.
“This coming from the guy that did the same thing!”
“Oh shut up.” He took a step closer to me before I could continue protesting and pressed his lips longingly against mine. The tips of our noses meshed before our heads tilted as if on cue, deepening the kiss while his hands wandered to squeeze my behind.
“Mmm,” he groaned against my lips. “Excuse my hands. I’m probably going to end up doing that a lot.”
“So long as you follow it up with a full I love you, I’ll tolerate it.”
This one isn’t a full fic but it’s an idea that popped in my head and I wanted to see the tiny scene written out. I added the bit in the beginning just to make this longer.
His voice reaches me before his fingers do.
“Juliette.” A whisper. His fingers on my arm.
I protest being forced from sleep, scrunching my face sleepily and turning my face into my pillow. He touches me again, brushing his fingertips down my arm.
“Time to get up,” he says a little louder now that i’m awake. Or slightly awake, really. Wishing I wasn’t.
I turn on my side and throw a hand over my eyes, rubbing them sleepily as I contain a yawn. When I finally squint my eyes open, the first thing I see is Warner, fully awake and sitting up in bed. His hand is still extended toward me, and I eye it lying on the mattress half-way between us. I reach out and slide my hand over his.
He smiles, rotating his hand underneath mine and weaving my fingers through his.
“Good morning,” is what he says. “We have a lot to do today.” Then he leans toward me. He might have been aiming for my forehead, but as he nears my face I lift my chin and press his lips to mine. His mouth twists into a grin against mine.
A second later he pulls away, cheeks still dimpled, and climbs out of bed. Though he bears no trace of having been asleep any time in the past hour, he still hasn’t changed out of his boxer briefs from the night before. Briefly, I wonder how long he’d been lying awake beside me. What he’d been doing.
I force myself to sit up, the sheets pooling in my lap as I rub my eyes again then look over at Warner. He faces away from me, silhouetted by the early-morning glow coming through the closed curtains across the room. He stands motionless for a moment and then his body arcs and his muscles extend as he stretches. A second later he sighs and relaxes, turning toward me. Somehow, I know he knows I haven’t taken my eyes off of him.
“Are you up? Or shall I find a glass of ice water to pour over you?” A smirk.
“Do that and you’ll be dead before you make it halfway across the room.”
“I do love a challenge.”
Before his smirk can escalate into a grin of triumph, I roll my eyes and throw my legs over the side of the bed. Stand. Wobble slightly.
I raise my arms over my head and arch my back, unable to contain the yawn that erupts from my chest. My knee-length nightgown hikes up to the tops of my thighs, and I don’t bother to pull it back down as I relax from the stance.
“What time is it?” I ask him with lingering exhaustion as I turn back toward the bed, pulling the sheets to the headboard and straightening the pillows.
“Five thirty, as usual. Why?”
“Just making sure I didn’t oversleep. You look like you’ve been awake for a while.”
When I turn, he’s resting with his hip against the bedpost, watching me. “Not too long.”
“What woke you up?”
I close the distance in between us. In the time it takes me to do so, he doesn’t answer my question.
Then, finally: “A dream.”
I cock my head and take one of his hands. His left one, with the ring. “Good or bad?”
His hand tightens on mine for a second before he lifts it away and steps back. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get ready.”
I let him drop the subject and follow him to the closet. We both branch off to our separate corners, digging through drawers and swiping through hangers.
In seconds, I have my running clothes on and I turn to find him waiting for me as well. Even knowing it’s just for workouts, I’m still not used to seeing him wear sweats.
I toss my nightgown in the dirty clothes hamper as I cross the closet, then we both go into the bathroom soundlessly. He occupies himself with his morning routine while I run a brush through my hair and pull it into a ponytail. After brushing my teeth and even splashing water on my face, Warner is still only half-way finished flossing. Step two of six.
I step behind him and fold my arms around his waist. He doesn’t move but I can feel his belly shake as he chuckles softly. Against his tee shirt, I press a kiss against his spine, then another a few inches higher. He’s too tall for me to reach the back of his neck.
I pat his stomach before pulling away and walking back to the closet for my shoes, which slide on effortlessly and feel like air once they’re situated on my feet. Then I wait in the middle of our bedroom, tempted to crawl back into bed but knowing I won’t be able to get out if I do so. So instead, I start stretching.
I fold myself on the ground and extend my legs out, alternating as I reach for both of them. My thighs burn as I touch the soles of my shoes, and I hold it as long as I can until I hear a knock at the door.
I can only think of two people who would ever come to Warner’s room directly, and only one of them knocks. But before I can stand, Warner appears in the room and calls out, “Come in, Delalieu.”
He settles on the edge of the bed to slide on socks and shoes, and I begin to stand up as the older man pulls open the door, coming to rest just inside with a wary expression.
“I hope I am not bothersome,” he immediately says, somewhat shakily.
“Of course not,” I say at the same time Warner asks, “What are you holding?”
Delalieu briefly sends me a gracious yet nervous smile before he answers Warner. “I come with a letter for urgently delivery to Miss Ferrars. It has come just this morning.”
“Me?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Warner. He shrugs as he pulls on the laces to his shoe.
I meet Delalieu at the door and reach for the letter, which he hands me quickly, practically throwing the envelope at me though when I look up in confusion, he grins at me politely. I hold the letter in my hand but make no haste to open it. Delalieu doesn’t move, waiting to be released. But I can’t stop replaying the moment he held the letter to me, his eyes wearily glued on my hands as I reached out toward him. A second later, I decode the expression. Fear.
I tuck the envelope under my elbow, not moving away from Delalieu. Instead, I hold my bare hands out to him palms up. He stiffens like he might lean away, but does not move. A bead of sweat perspires above his brow.
“Touch me,” I command him solemnly but with a patience I didn’t know I was capable of.
“I don’t-” he starts to say, looking over my shoulder at Warner, who I hear rise slowly from the bed.
“Please,” I add, and Delalieu’s eyes return to mine, then look down at
my hands. A whole second passes before he raises his hands, pauses, then rests them on top of mine.
“Please do not fear me,” I tell him quietly, wrapping my fingers over the top of his and then squeezing gently. Reassuringly. “I would never hurt you.”
He nods quickly, relief flooding his voice as he responds hastily, “Of course, Miss Ferrars. Thank you, Miss Ferrars. It is my apology.”
I drop his hands. Retrieve the letter from under my arm. Step back from the door.
“You are dismissed.”
He nods once, so deeply that his shoulders stoop, then with another thank-you, he leaves the room. I turn and look at Warner, whose brows are lifted. Impressed.
He starts to remark something, but I shake my head then look down at the letter in my hands. On the front of the thick letter is my name in pen. The font is indistinct, and I tear open into the envelope curiously. Inside, pieces of lined paper are folded together, and from the outside I can see the same color of pen which has written my name on the front bleeding through. I turn the papers over. Inspect the first few lines of the top page.
Then nearly drop the entire stack.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, and a second later Warner joins my side.
“What?” Warner responds, concerned. “What is it? Who is this from?”
I peel my eyes away from the stationary and meet Warner’s gaze, his expression painted into something between concern and determination.
“It’s from my parents.”
Who do you think Heechul is the closest to among SJ members?
* When Donghae’s father died, Heechul said to him “It’s no big deal that your father is gone, I’ll be your father”
* When Donghae took the high school examination, Heechul got up early to cook eggs for his breakfast.
* Heechul only allows Donghae to speak informal to him. Donghae is one of the very few people who can calm Heechul’s anger and Heechul will obey him ^^
* Heechul: “The only person who touch my shirts and shoes is Donghae, this fellow is really lawless”
Youngstreet - Heechul talking about his relationship with Donghae:
Heechul: “Before debut, when 21 years old, there is a girl that both me and Donghae like. Then when I found out that Donghae likes her too, I hope he will be with her, so I keep telling her good things about Donghae. One day when I was chatting with the girl, she said “Why did you always talk about Donghae when you see me, and he will always talk good things about you when he sees me?!” In the end, both of us didn’t succeed, Donghae says it is better this way… Because of this incident, I feel that when faced with friendship and love, a man will choose friendship.. Before debut, because I broke something, manager asked “WHO DID IT?!” And Donghae and I both tell the manager “I did it!”, this is truly the brotherhood/ loyalty of man… I’m different from you. Friendship is priority to me! In love, it is just a man and a woman. There are so many women out there but it is different for friends! Where will I go find another friend like Donghae?! Friendship is my priority!!”
Heechul: “Actually the thing is that i’m worried about, when i went to that trainin center, i went calmly & cooly. it seems that eunhyuk will do well but i’m very worried about Donghae. that kid really lived while walking all over his hyungs. his hyungs wash up for him & give him food so i’m really worried about what will happen if we don’t do that (for him)…..Oppa used to use the same room with donghae.. he really can’t wake up even with the alarm sound so when he had to go to school, oppa would have to wake him up & send him to school.. I even washed up for him too!“