I Just Want To Cherish What It Is We Have Now

A Long, Long Time

As your twenty-fifth birthday approached, you were excited, of course you were, but you were also insanely nervous to meet the person the universe decided was the one for you.

It was the day before your birthday. You woke up at the time you usually did and laid for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Inhaling a deep breath, you sat up and looked down at your forearm, where, tomorrow, there would be a name written there in black ink, just like every other person on the planet.

Someone knocked on your door.

“I’m awake.” You called back.

“Can I come in?” It was Steve.

You’d been living at the Avengers Compound for the past year and so far, you loved it. Your life as an Avenger was many things, but it was never boring. Your powers made you a valuable asset to the team, and since you’d moved in, everyone had been super nice to you, but Steve, Mr. Captain Rogers himself, had been especially kind and sweet, making sure you had everything you needed.

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HAYLEY ATWELL as PEGGY CARTER CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER (2011) dir. Joe Johnston

You guys think the Stark Industries stock price plummets every time Tony gets his ass beat publicly in a fight.

absolute perfect person to rep basketball merch 

girl who is going to be okay

okay, fun question for the marvel peeps bc i think you can tell a LOT about someone by these, so plop in the tags:

the first marvel movie you saw

a marvel movie you consider a comfort movie

your favorite marvel movie

and the marvel movie you feel was the most formative of your current personality/interests

5-STAR Trailer ― CHAN

As much as I hate a world where Tony’s dead, I think I may hate one where he forgets Peter’s existence even more

@pyralyte

♥ “I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.”

His smile is radiant, his eyes like stars in the darkest night sky; the way he moves radiates confidence and charm, the way he speaks is captivating, compelling, suave.

The anniversary event is crowded, lively, suffocating. You don’t know why you came - or why you keep letting Minhyuk talk you into things when you know Kiyhun’s going to be there. It always sours your mood, ruins your night and others’.

“What has he ever done to you?” Minhyuk has asked a million times, and you have shrugged a million more; there was no explaining your reasons to others. 

“I just don’t like him,” you would say. “It happens.”

You stretch your legs away from your body, the wooden chair you’ve been sitting on for the past hour or so leaving your body tense and aching. There’s a half eaten cupcake from the buffet on a plate in front of you - your excuse to stay seated at the table, to stay away from Kihyun.

But, like so many times before, he finds you. 

He is walking toward you through the sea of people, his smile a little wider, the skin around his eyes creased a little deeper. People he passes glance at him, nod at him, give him all the attention he commands just by being in the general vicinity.

He has that thing, the je ne sais quoi. 

You hate the way Yoo Kihyun owns the room.

You hate the way Yoo Kihyun owns your heart.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” he asks when he stands before you. You weakly gesture toward the remains of the cupcake.

“Eating.”

“Come dance with me.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Kihyun reaches out and gently cups your elbow, trying to coax you into getting up.

“Kihyun, let go of me,” you snarl lowly, a warning look in your eyes. But he just smiles his disarming smile and leans in a little closer; a little too close.

“Come on,” he teases. “Or do you want me to make a scene?”

“Asshole,” you hiss and let him lead you to the dancefloor.  You are painfully aware of the looks, the whispers, and you keep your head low as you walk across the room. When he stops and turns toward you, you instinctively take a step back. You try to keep your distance, but Kihyun’s fingers swiftly curl around your hips. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, his voice like silk brushing against your fragile heart. 

“Nothing,” you spit but he just chuckles and digs dominating fingertips into your skin.

“Come closer.” His command against your fragile resolve. “Come closer so I can hold you.”

Before you can react, his hand is on the small of your back, melting your body against his, while his other hand closes around yours in the air. You look into his face, too stunned to say anything. For just a second, the smile is gone and his eyes are the color of the darkest night sky as he watches you, studies you, takes you in. You swear he presses you even closer to him as he starts moving, starts leading you across the floor. You have no idea where you’re going; you’re lost in his eyes, lost to his touch. 

You have tried to avoid this for so long, tried to avoid him, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to take it. He feels too good, looks too good, smells too good, and it’s killing you.

You blink a few times when he whispers your name and realize you have stopped dancing; realize you are not even in the banquet hall anymore. Somehow he had maneuvered you out of the room and into a dark corner of the adjacent hotel bar that had closed for the night. 

“What?” you ask dumbly, your back pressed against a wall and Kihyun’s eyes on yours. He takes both your hands and places them on his shoulders before gently squeezing your waist.

“Why do you always act like you hate me?” he whispers into the darkness. You stare at him in disbelief for a second before collecting your senses.

“First, it’s not an act,” you reply, the sharp edges of the lie cutting the air between you. “Secondly, I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.”

Kihyun leans in again, a cunning smile on his lips. “No, you don’t.”

Instead of pushing him away, your nails dig deeper into his shoulders. “Stop it, Kihyun, or I’ll punch you.”

“No, you won’t.” He moves even closer, the tip of his nose almost touching yours as his arms wrap around your back and hold you so tightly against him it feels like you will never escape his embrace - not that you would want to.

“Is it because you think you can’t have me?” he asks, half mocking, half earnest. You scoff.

“Bullshit.”

“Are you sure?” He is so close now you can feel the heat of his skin and the beating of his heart as he whispers against your lips. “Because, baby, I’m yours if you want me.”

I don’t like being told what to do but I like being told what to do