#also it’s called insomnia…this is the second song he calls insomnia I wonder if he remembers the first one…. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-au-thor · 2 months

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A la Velocidad de la Luz (at the Speed of light) PART II | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Second part for this story, and yes, you should read it first

Word Count: 11.6 k

TW: Read here!

"I think you're young," your new psychiatrist spoke. "And you need a different dose of sleeping pills. But I also believe you shouldn't depend on them for too long," she said after starting to write on her prescription pad. "I'll give you a monthly prescription, then you'll come to see me, and depending on how you're doing, we'll see if we continue with the same dose or lower it. The next time you see your therapist, you can ask to teach you some insomnia management exercises. You need to tackle this at its roots and not just put a Band-Aid over it," she looked at you seriously. "You must understand that what happened to you before is something you can't control, but this you can," she handed you the prescription sheet and smiled. "See you next month, and I hope you can get some rest."

You tucked the prescription into your purse and stood up from the chair with a smile, thanking her and saying goodbye.

Your usual psychiatrist, Dr. Orwell, was on vacation, and the first few weeks back at the clinic were fully booked. You had no choice but to call Owen and get a good contact in Indianapolis for a reliable psychiatrist. The truth was, you weren't as bad as you were a few weeks before Steve Harrington's intervention.

Steve.

It was strange what was happening with Steve. When you weren't with him, you missed him so much that you felt desperate and genuinely wanted to cry. When you were with him, your desperation turned into something different; you wanted to kiss him and run to a place where he would never find you. Yet, he wouldn't let you miss him or escape. He had behaved like your true personal hero; every night, right at 10pm when you took your insomnia pills, he would call your phone, and then he would start talking. He talked about his parents and how much he wished for less money and a bit more affection. He talked about Hopper and how even though he hadn't told him, he was grateful that he had believed in him and supported him. He talked about Nancy and how different he felt about her now, saying he loved her and always would but felt more ready than ever to love someone else. You wondered what kind of person he was looking for, but you never dared to ask; you told yourself it was to respect the rule that only he talked and you had to focus on sleeping, but they were just excuses. You were dying to know if you had a chance to be even a tiny blip on his radar, but you were a coward, so you supposed you would just have to live with that uncertainty.

You left the building where your new psychiatrist's office was and crossed the street halfway because you were too lazy to walk a few more steps and wait for the traffic light. When you reached the other side, you clutched your purse and walked towards the train station to go back home. You liked traveling by train; it was one of your favorite experiences. You could read a book, explore places you wouldn't on foot, and listen to your favorite songs with your headphones on without being judged; the old folks still disapproved when they saw other kids putting on their headphones and disconnecting from the world. Many said it was the end of civilization; you had witnessed the end of civilization, and it definitely wasn't because of music. If anything, music had saved you all. Maybe one day your kids would be able to walk down the street listening to music on their headphones, getting a bit away from reality without earning judgmental looks from older people.

You pressed the button on your Walkman and opened one of the books Lewis had sent in a very early annual reading list for the next semester. You definitely wouldn't fail his class if you wanted to have a future, a job, a family, and a movie adaptation of one of your books someday. You rested your forehead on the train's window and started reading while Peter Gabriel's music filtered through your headphones.

"Steve's voice to sleep?" Eddie asked, furrowing his brow, then snorted. "Well, I must admit he has a soothing tone with a moderate pitch, so I can see why it relaxes you," he shrugged, his face more relaxed, and then glanced at you as if he suddenly realized something. "Steve Harrington talked you to sleep."

You rolled your eyes.

"I thought I mentioned that."

"Yeah, I know," he set aside his guitar and then settled on the carpeted floor of Family Video. If Steve were there during Eddie's shift, he'd probably be lecturing him about responsibility, but it was a darn Tuesday morning, and everyone was at the lake, on vacation, or at the public pool, "what I mean is that he talked to you; do you know how hard it is to get Steve to talk? How long does he talk to you?"

You shrugged.

"It's not hard. And I don't know; I usually fall asleep after a few minutes."

Eddie clapped as if you were telling him juicy gossip.

"It's hard. Most of the time, Steve says three or four stupid sentences, usually to argue with Dustin, to receive Robin's teasing, or to tell me how uncomfortable he is with me getting too close to his perimeter."

You raised your eyebrows.

"Well, Eddie, you always get too close, and we like our personal space."

He nodded in agreement. "I know, and I understand, I also like your personal space," you laughed at his cheekiness, "but we're getting off track, honey, about what?"

"About what, what?" you asked back.

Impatiently, Eddie rolled his eyes.

"What does he talk about?"

You shrugged.

"I'm telling you I fall asleep within minutes, and I'll guess the things he talks about are private, and he doesn't expect me to be gossiping with the most impertinent man in Hawkins."

Now he was offended.

"I'm not the most impertinent person..."

"I said man, the most impertinent person is Robin."

"Ehhh, not to defend my dear friend, but she was injected with truth serum or something."

"You weren't even there!" Younprotested with a laugh..

"I heard about it, and you weren't there either; you were busy running with Dustin and stealing pants from a Russian soldier that Erica knocked out because you couldn't hold it and got your pants wet."

You furrowed your brow.

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, Robin told me..."

You cut him off.

"You, couple of blabbermouth ol' ladies!" you exclaimed with a victorious smile.

You saw Eddie rest his chin on his palm thoughtfully, then he smiled at you, a genuine smile; not one of those reckless smiles he always had when he mocked something or tried to be sarcastic.

"Harrington loves you."

You furrowed your brow, and the sensation in your gut as if something had suddenly hit you hard didn't go unnoticed.

"I know; he wouldn't do all this if he didn't love me." You tried to play fool about it. You knew what Eddie truly meant.

Eddie shook his head with a half-smile and then took your Walkman and opened it to reveal the copy Steve had given you a few days before leaving on a trip through a couple of states with Dustin to visit Suzie that Monday.

"He made you a freaking mixtape, woman!"

You raised your eyebrows as you watched him almost offended shaking the cassette in his hand.

"So?"

He dropped his arms defeatedly as he pressed his lips in consternation.

"Sweetheart; that man swims in money."

You shook your head slightly.

"Well, now his folks don't support him much anyway..."

"The point is he could buy you an original copy, and our Lord and Savior knows the government owes us so much that he could even ask them to have Peter Gabriel himself come and sign the cover and leave," he argued. "But no; Steve Harrington took the time to strategically copy..." he began reading the song names listed on the cover of the copy. "In your eyes... Don't give up... Look! Book of Love and Solsbury Hill."

You rolled your eyes.

"And what's that got to do with anything?"

"Those songs are from the early '80s, Solsbury Hill came out in 1977," he pointed as if he had suddenly found the solution to some complicated arithmetic problem. "He used different albums to record you a copy; he took the time between his silly dates and his hair sessions, the ones he denies but we all know he has, to take different songs with clear meanings and give you a mixtape; not to Tina, Rebecca, Raquel, Luciana, or whatever the last girls he..."

You shook your head.

"I don't need a recap of his dates; I'm aware he has a bunch."

Eddie took a deep breath and looked you straight in the eyes.

"Steve Harrington loves you."

You chose to ignore the conversation you had had with Eddie the previous week whenever you pressed play on your Walkman and listened to that mixtape. Now you couldn't help but value that mixtape more just because you were delusional and wanted to think it was true; that Steve had gone through that trouble because he loved you.

When you got off the train and left the station, you were taking off your headphones and wrapping them around the Walkman when you almost bumped into Steve, with Dustin next to him with a huge smile. You hugged the boy first, stroking his curls and kissing his cheek, then tried not to make it too obvious that you almost lunged at Steve to wrap your arms around him. Steve was trying to do the same; not to take you by the waist and kiss your forehead before descending to your lips. The past week had been hell being apart; the phone bill would've been terrible if Dustin hadn't brought his portable radio tower to chat with you during the nights. You had to endure not only Dustin's teasing but also Suzie's sharp impertinence, who had no qualms about subjecting him to a tough interview involving feelings and too much adult talk that those kids shouldn't have to handle.

"I can't believe you're already here!" you greeted them with a big smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin's mom is making dinner for all of us, and Dustin wants us to go so his mom won't ask too many questions about Suzie," Dustin grinned from ear to ear.

"Hey, I won't be persecuted by the inquisition, and you guys will have the best dinner ever - everyone wins," Dustin said with a smile

You raised an eyebrow and then burst into laughter

"I'm happy for you, Dustin, and I'm glad to know you can stop swearing for a while," you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear, "and you?"

Steve started his car and shook his head.

"A nightmare; Suzie is like the female version of Dustin, but smarter and with better hygiene."

Dustin, far from being offended, seconded his friend, agreeing.

"I would be offended, but she's my girlfriend. Of course, she's better than me!"

You turned back to Dustin, smiling proudly.

"I'm glad you had a good week and that you've been kinda approved by Suzie's parents"

Steve pulled the car out of the parking lot and took one of the alternative routes to the Avenue that was being fixed. Since the last incident, Hawkins had been left without a mayor, and new elections had to be held once the situation was contained. The government, of course, decided that a large sum as compensation for the huge civil and structural loss wouldn't hurt, and the mayor's first measure was to start renewing Hawkins' roads and improving the civilians' common areas, as well as generating new jobs and housing. Once you all saw Nancy's mother cutting the ribbon for Hawkins' improved school, you knew Nancy had brought out all her qualities and problem-solving abilities from her mother.

She said her mother had been restless for a while. Nancy had noticed it even amidst Karen's unsuccessful efforts to mask it with a smile, neatly painted nails, and a new perm in her blonde hair. That was until after the huge disaster in Hawkins, Nancy dared to encourage her to run for mayor since many people knew her, and she really had good ideas to improve the town. Besides, nobody wanted the story of a new Larry Kline to repeat itself. According to Mike, his mother couldn't stop laughing at Nancy's suggestion until she realized that the only one finding it amusing was her, and that Ted seemed incredibly serious. When the table fell into a dead silence, the man spoke, shrugging, "And why not?" he said, "Holly will be entering school, Nancy will be going to college, and given Mike's grades, we'll probably have him for an extra year," he sarcastically mentioned the latter and then smiled at Karen, "You run this house perfectly; you can handle a town that clearly needs someone like you." And that was it, I mean, how could anyone refuse a reinvented Ted who had suddenly earned the respect of his family and all he had needed to do was support one of his oldest daughter's brilliant ideas?

When they arrived at Dustin's house, Claudia had already set the table and had the rest of the kids eating snacks in the living room. Claudia was the first to strangle Dustin in a tight hug, kissing his cheeks and forehead, and even though Dustin complained beneath the teasing giggles from the rest, you knew he enjoyed it.

"Oh, oh," Claudia murmured minutes later when they were all seated at the table as she got up to get an extra napkin for Eddie, who was at one end of the table sitting next to Steve, "Here, honey, we don't want that jacket to get ruined with meatball sauce."

Eddie smiled, covering his chest with the napkin and looping one end around his neck.

"Thanks, Mrs. Henderson."

The woman smiled.

"Oh, honey, call me Claudia, I've told you already," she patted Eddie's back and Steve's, "Oh, Lord! Did you get hurt in your mechanics classes again, Eddie?"

Eddie looked at the back of one of his hands, which was covered with a kind of translucent plastic fabric.

"This?" he waved the hand in front of her, "No, don't worry, it's just a new tat I got; I'll show you soon."

Claudia smiled again, concern leaving her face.

"Oh, that's fantastic," she encouraged him, returning to her seat and starting to eat.

"Fantastic?" Lucas frowned.

"Mom, you hate tattoos," Dustin reminded her, exchanging looks with Will and Lucas.

"Know what?" Claudia put down her fork to look at Dustin and shook her head, "This boy has shown me that I shouldn't judge a book by its cover and that tattoos are... what did you call it, Eddie?"

"Expression of the soul."

If she had rolled her eyes any harder, they would surely have popped out of their sockets, or so it seemed when Max adjusted her glasses and subtly reacted to Eddie's comment.

"Yes!" she pointed, smiling, then looked back at the rest of you who witnessed that exchange, "It sounds so good that I'm thinking of getting one myself."

"Mom, noooo," Dustin gestured without speaking aloud.

"I got this super talented buddy who'll do a bang-up job, Claudia," Eddie offered. "Just say the word, and I'll make a call."

"Oh sweet," Claudia glanced at Dustin. "Take notes." She got up again because she was Claudia Henderson, and she wouldn't be Claudia Henderson if she ever stayed quiet when you guys were around. "I'm gonna grab more lemonade."

"Just saying you can't get a tattoo!" Dustin said out loud with a little frown

"And why not?" Robin asked, sliding some noodles into her mouth with a smirk, like she already knew Dustin's response.

Nancy tried to hide a smile and lightly nudged Robin's arm, making her giggle and return the gesture. Jonathan seemed to catch the little exchange. Argyle didn't.

"'Cause it's old!" Dustin hissed a bit too loudly.

"Dustin!" You and Steve scolded him.

"Hey, Henderson," Eddie called out, and when everyone quieted down, he grinned. "Show some respect for my future wife."

That just made the rest of you burst out laughing and Dustin even more embarrassed.

"That's gross, man, don't go there, screw off," he spat out with disgust.

"What's up?" Claudia returned from the kitchen with another pitcher of lemonade and one of her smiles.

"Nothing, Claudia, just talking about how good this food is, right guys?" Eddie smiled innocently, and all of you except Dustin and Argyle had to bite your lips to hold back laughter.

"Of course," Mike was the first to chime in. "It's excellent, isn't it, El?"

She nodded silently beside him as she took another sip of her lemonade.

"Wonderful," Nancy twirled pasta around her fork with a smile.

"Better than my mom's," Robin affirmed.

"See, Claudia?" Eddie grinned innocently, making her blush at all the attention from you guys.

"Oh, how kind, and that's why I'll fill up your glass first," she offered, leaning in to fill Eddie's glass.

"Stop calling her Claudia," Dustin gestured without speaking aloud only for Eddie to understand

Eddie raised his middle finger subtly without Claudia seeing and shook his head, blowing a kiss with a huge smile.

After that, Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin decided to stay at home for a sleepover and D&D. The rest of you bid farewell to Claudia after El and Max decided to do the same at Hopper's house, and talked as you left Dustin's house to decide on the next plan for the night.

"What the heck are we gonna do?" Eddie stretched his fingers, loosening the rings adorning his phalanges.

"Yeah, bro it ain't cool that our social life depends on those little munch-truos," Argyle agreed with Robin.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and shook your head.

"Nah, guys, I'm in treatment, need to go yo bed early if I want it to work," you said, pouting a bit.

"What? Hey, will you be able to come to California with us then?" Eddie suddenly asked, becoming completely serious.

Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Robin turned to look at you impatiently. Argyle's cousin was like the Californian equivalent of Eddie and had been visiting during winter break when Argyle camr back too, something about wanting to see snow, and that's when he attended one of Eddie's performances at the Hideout. Anyway, he was fascinated by the way the band played. He said he knew an up-and-coming band that he knew would someday be big just like Corroded Coffin had the potential to be, and he was sure they could play with them at one of their gig at some California club. Nobody believed him, especially because Argyle had mentioned that once, at a party, his cousin had gone missing and they found him the next morning naked and huddled next to a dying bonfire. Surprisingly, Franco came through, and now he had catapulted Corroded Coffin to California where they would vacation and play for the wonderful band that was gaining fans on the coast. Of course, as always, all of you would travel to support them because, if you're there in the bad times, why not in the good times too?

"Of course, Eddie," you assured him.

"Plus, we wanna meet that band. Who can be named Billie Joel Armstrong and not be cool?" Jonathan raised a half-smile, hugging Nancy who smiled back, snuggling against his side.

Quickly, his blue eyes locked onto yours.

"You owe us a girls' night out," she reminded you, pointing at Robin who raised her eyebrows with an enthusiastic smile.

You laughed.

"I know," you replied, burying your hands in the pockets of your knit vest. "I gotta bail, guys," you bid farewell to everyone, including Steve, and he stopped you as the guys started walking to their cars to go somewhere where they would surely drink and chat.

"Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you're going alone?"

You looked at Steve on the sidewalk as his warm hand embraced your shoulder.

"Steve," you whispered with a smile, "There are no more demogorgons."

"I know, but there are murderers and creeps, and I'm not gonna let you walk alone in the middle of the night to your house."

"But we're so close by," you complained, "and the night's perfect for a walk," you muttered, and Steve started guiding you along the sidewalk toward your house.

"We'll walk then," he replied with a smile and determination as he followed, nudging and massaging your shoulder a couple of times before letting go.

You wanted to tell him not to stop, but you remained silent.

"You don't have to take care of me, go hang out with the guys and catch up; this week, Eddie gave a demo to some guy from a record label in Indianapolis, Jonathan's gonna present an exhibition of his photographs, and Argyle finally managed to do that thing he does when he smokes; the rings that disperse in the air."

"Great achievements, apparently," Steve hid a small smile, burying his hands in the pockets of his blue windbreaker, the one that had torn while trying to kill a demodog before it could eat Lucas when they started coming out in droves from the huge cracks that formed after the big earthquake. "You've just summarized everything in a sec; I don't see what else the guys could add."

You tilted your head, looking at him almost sternly, but you couldn't manage it, not while he smiled at you in that way illuminated by the streetlights.

"The truth is, Eddie tells his stories very well, I think is becauseof those campaigns he made for D&D" you smiled back and kept walking toward your house, unconsciously taking slow steps to make the journey home longer and have a bit more time with Steve Harrington. "When's your graduation ceremony?" you asked then, breaking the silence.

"They're supposed to give us the exam results this week, and then they'll give us the date," he replied. "Hopper says I should invite my parents."

You nodded, knowing that would be another disappointment for Steve if his parents refused to show up.

"I agree," you nodded, then looked at him, shrugging with a smile. "It's one last effort on your part, Steve, and if it doesn't work, it won't be because you didn't try."

He raised a sad smile.

"I wish...you know, they were less like my parents and more like, I dunno; Claudia or Joyce, or your parents. Damn, almost all those kids have good parents, look at Mrs. Wheeler, Jesus...even between council meetings and events, she was at Nancy's graduation and Holly's ballet presentation," he almost lamented, tapping the tip of his sneaker on the pavement. "Now I'm whining like a baby," he frowned. "I shouldn't be bothered, I'm used to it."

You observed his anguish through his voice and his gaze. Steve had become very good at turning the pain from his absent parents into false indifference.

"Do you remember what you said once...? ...that time in the trailer. You said you wanted to have a family, kids, and go on a trailer vacation like that one..."

If it weren't for the night, you couldn't be sure if Steve's cheeks had flushed or not.

"What about it?"

You took his arm, and Steve could feel a slight short circuit in his nerves, as if a single touch of your hand sent signals from your body to his. He looked at you, waiting for your response, and you smiled at him proudly even before speaking.

"The point is, even in your plans, Steve, you broke the cycle. You'll have a beautiful family, you'll fall in love with this... wonderful woman who'll see the person we all see, and you'll have kids whom you'll support in every dance rehearsal, every soccer practice, and every darn Christmas recital because that's the person you've become despite your parents, not thanks to them," you let go and looked at him appreciatively, as if the words weren't able to contain what shone in your gaze. Steve wanted to figure out what it was.

He struggled to understand what the rest saw in him when his training officers told him that his effort was commendable or that he was doing really well, he didn't believe it. He didn't believe it when Hopper patted his shoulder, pressed his lips, and told him it would be a great honor to see him become an officer and then the next sheriff. He, Steve Harrignton, doing something more than just working for his father.

But when you said those things and looked at him in that way, for a brief moment, he believed he was all those things.

"Are you-are you...?" he stammered and tried to compose himself. "Are you going to be at the graduation?"

You let go and nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course, I'll be the loudest cheerleader in the front row," you promised, then kept walking without looking back at him. Sometimes it hurt just to see him for a few seconds. "I... I made a decision while you weren't here."

Steve put his right hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

"How dare you?"

You laughed, shaking your head and biting the inside of your cheek.

"I'm going to stay in the university dorms," you replied. "I feel it's the healthiest thing to do. I want to keep studying, but traveling and having to say goodbye every Sunday is torture."

That sentence was like a kick in his stomach, capable of leaving him breathless, and he knew that, he had had enough of suffocating blows in his life to be able to say that this one was undoubtedly the worst he had felt.

He cleared his throat.

"That's... are you sure?"

You weren't, but you nodded. You thought about what the psychiatrist had said that afternoon, about pulling it out by the root and not putting a band-aid patch over it. She was referring to insomnia, but you supposed you could apply it to many things.

"Yeah," you finally said. "I mean, I'll still come back for holidays and vacations. It's just... three years, they'll fly by."

Neither you nor Steve believed that. You were lying, and Steve was helping you maintain that lie. He helped you hold it heavily all the way to your house. Because he knew it wouldn't be just three years. You were brilliant, and there was no way that in all your right mind you wouldn't want to get a master's and eventually a doctorate. It was like sand slipping through his fingers, only it wasn't simple sand, it was you, and he would be an idiotic selfish jerk if he tried to persuade you not to do it. There was no way you would leave university, and he wouldn't subject you to the torture of constantly saying goodbye to your family and missing them so much during the week. You had the right to choose, and you were doing it.

He said goodbye to you at the door of your house and did what he hadn't been able to do in front of Dustin outside the train station; he kissed your forehead, which felt as eternal as it was brief, and promised to call you as soon as he got home and help you sleep.

You wanted him to, but you also hated the idea. You wanted to feel eager to reinforce that decision that had been rummaging in your mind all last week, not to realize that if you missed Steve during the fifteen minutes it took him to get back to his car and get to his house, you didn't want to know how much you would miss him if you couldn't see him for a whole semester.

So the summer passed, like a bittersweet orange blur of trips to the lake, afternoons in the sun at Steve's pool, whispered nights with his soft monologues inviting you to deep sleep, and more reasons accumulated as to why you fell more in love with him. Two weeks had passed since that conversation on the way home, when Hopper announced at a barbecue that they would throw a party for Steve to celebrate his graduation. Jim didn't say it, but you noticed from the way he hugged Joyce and held his beer without alcohol that he was proud of Steve and how much he had changed since the police found him fighting with Jonathan in that alley next to the movie theater. You screamed with all the force of your lungs when you saw him receive a Fitness Award and a Leadership Award with a smile as you had promised, and Steve didn't have time to miss his parents because all of you called your own to cheer for him and show him off as if he were their son. Your mother used to joke about it at home, saying she loved him like one but wished she could call him one, but that only depended on you. That summer passed, and you couldn't do anything about it, or maybe you could, but you didn't dare. You didn't even dare in California when you traveled in Eddie and Argyle's vans and spent nights on the beach and watching Eddie and his band rehearse to play alongside Billie's band, who did exist and yes, was pretty good. Not even after having that conversation with Nancy while trying on clothes at South Coast Plaza.

It was the day of Corroded Coffin's big concert, Nancy and you had decided to buy an outfit according to a great Rock concert at The Whisky a Go Go, one of the famous venues in West Hollywood where emerging bands usually performed.

As they ate ice cream and dragged their bags, you decided it was time to talk to someone about it. If not with Steve, then with the only person in the world who could perfectly understand how you felt. The only other person who had fallen deeply in love with Steve and had broken his heart.

"Nance..." you spoke after a moment of silence while you had taken refuge in the least crowded corner of the food court. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay, go ahead," she asked after seeing that you were having trouble continuing the conversation you had started.

"I have feelings for Steve," you said, after discovering that there was no correct way to say it except to say it.

Nancy looked at you for a few seconds with her huge eyes and then raised a half smile.

"No shit."

She resumed eating ice cream, and you resumed breathing.

"I know there's an unspoken policy about dating a friend's ex, but I promise I have no remote intention of dating him. In fact, I fully intend to take all this and bury it with... I don't know, Henry Creel?" you asked nervously, earning a laugh from Nancy.

"You're too funny," she replied. "Listen," she sighed, "Steve doesn't belong to me. He can date whoever he wants, and honestly, I'd rather it be you."

"I'm not going to do anything about it, Nance. I'm going to college, and it would be very complicated," you said.

She snorted.

"As if you're not magically going to miss him just because you don't dare tell him you love him," she muttered, savoring her strawberry ice cream with sunglasses still covering her eyes.

"Nancy, it's your ex-boyfriend we're talking about."

She smiled, even with the cone in front of her mouth.

"Yeah, I know. He broke up with me, and then I broke up with him, or something like that. The truth is, we've never really agreed on that."

You looked at her, not understanding how she could be so calm having this conversation with you. You hadn't even said you loved him out loud yet, and you already felt like your body was catastrophically sweating. Seriously, this couldn't be normal.

"It's... your first love, the person you experienced everything with... how do you compete with that?"

Nancy left her ice cream and looked at you seriously.

"You don't have to," she settled next to you to face you. "It's true, there's a lot of our history with Steve that I'll always cherish, but you don't have to compete with that, believe me," she affirmed confidently. "Steve... was different, and I was different. I broke his heart; my relationship with Steve taught me the wrong way I can love someone. We were both so... childish and selfish, we distrusted each other and hurt each other. It was love, but it hurt, and it shouldn't hurt," she confided in you. "And not content with that, I almost made the same mistake with Jonathan," she added, almost embarrassed.

You watched her for a good moment, then picked up that ice cream that was still halfway through in your hand.

"I've always felt a little jealous of you, you know?" you admitted and laughed nervously. "You saw it, Nance; you saw who Steve was behind all that facade."

"In those days, I just wanted to fit in," she said.

"But you did see through him," you smiled. "Nancy Wheeler always one step ahead of all of us."

She glanced at you sideways and smiled.

"Well, if we're admitting our female jealousies, I must say I've always envied the way you talk about what you feel; I've always wanted to be a little like that, I mean if I had spoken clearly about my emotions, I probably would have avoided a lot of misunderstandings," she shrugged, and then smiled sadly. "You've always been able to start the most difficult and most necessary conversations, so please, let this not be the first time you're going to stop doing this, because if you don't talk to Steve for real, I'm going to be tragically disappointed."

You couldn't promise her that, because you knew you couldn't keep it.

After that unforgettable night for Eddie and the rest of the members of Corroded Coffin, they returned to Hawkins, the kids to their first day of school, Nancy to pack for her first year of college with Robin, Eddie to work, Steve to wear his police suit, and you to move to the University.

If you thought saying goodbye to your parents and Steve was painful before, now facing the prospect of a whole semester away from them was even worse. You felt a terrible knot in your chest, it hurt so much that you believed it couldn't be good for your health, and you tried to convince yourself all the way to Indianapolis that you had definitely made the best decision.

"Hey, wait," Steve called to you before you entered the building and he left. You turned, trying to hold back the tears and not letting him see how pathetically they were following an invisible path down your cheeks. You looked at him, and he seemed suddenly lost, as if he weren't this adult guy who had to do away with his self-proclaimed best feature to fulfill the obligation of short hair at the Police Academy and thus do what he was destined to do; take care of others honorably, but a little scared little kid.

You raised your eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't let Lewis intimidate you again. You fought against many monsters for you to let a simple human belittle you when clearly you don't deserve it."

You smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Steve."

"There's something else," Steve looked at the building behind you and nervously opened and clenched his palms.

You looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"You won't have a phone in your room," You confirmed that statement with a nod, and then he walked to his car to take out a shoebox and hand it to you. "I... did this; it's the best idea I could come up with, there's also the radio, but you'd spend too much on batteries, and this is something similar, right?" he asked when you opened the box to reveal a large number of homemade cassettes. "I recorded myself talking; most of it is nonsense, but that's not the point of all this, right?" he smiled. "It's so you can sleep."

You looked at him and the box, and his hands still surrounding the cardboard material next to yours, and you set that box aside to hug him in silence because the truth was that a thank you felt very little. Not even that hug felt enough. Steve sniffed your hair one last time because he wanted to memorize it. This didn't feel like a simple goodbye. Maybe he was being dramatic, maybe it was because of the words that were never expressed, or the fact that he simply loved you and wouldn't be able to do the most he had aspired to do in this life: share it with you, even as friends.

"Steve," you spoke and let him go to look at him, and it felt like a mistake, "you know you're very important to me, and I'm going to miss you very much, right?"

I love you, you make me happy. I feel protected even though I know I can perfectly be alone, but I prefer you to do it. You make me take care of myself. Everyone thinks we should be together, even me, but I can't bear the idea of you not loving me back. I love your hair, long or short. You drive me crazy in uniform, just like you'll probably drive all those available girls waiting for you in Hawkins crazy. I want that life with you; the house, the dog, the six little Nuggets, and traveling across the country in a caravan to vacation in California where Nancy and Jonathan will surely live when they get married. Where Eddie will buy his first house after his first world tour with Corroded Coffin. And where San Francisco is, the place where Robin will surely move to once she discovers there's a quieter and more acceptable place for her, where she'll surely take Will with her once the boy tells them about that part of him he's so terrified of. Where they'll be able to see their friends, and surely those six Nuggets will make friends with their kids because that was the life you wanted with Steve. Because I love you.

But no.You didn't say it.

You smiled. He smiled, kissed your forehead, and said goodbye.

And you suffered again as you watched Steve drive away in his car.

Steve had learned a few things from you. Remember that one time, Mike had been disrespectful to Nancy, and of course, you stood up for her. Mike didn't take it well; it was a stupid sibling fight, couldn't even tell how it started, but the kid got mad at you because it wasn't your problem, you weren't his sister. Steve wanted to yell at him, wanted to tell him he was a spoiled, ungrateful brat who still couldn't understand that he was loved by more people than he probably deserved at that moment. But you seemed to anticipate that situation because only the Lord knew how well you had come to know him, so your hand wrapped around Steve's arm, and your finger briefly traced circles on his wrist, as if calming him down, and you decided to give him the space the furious Mike demanded. Hours later, he saw you approaching him, where he had isolated himself that afternoon by the lake, not even Eleven could get close to him. He saw you timidly take his arm and link yours with his as you talked. The rest of you were preparing a bonfire, Dustin and Steve had wandered off a bit to make sandwiches while Dustin chattered about something he couldn't quite remember. From that distance, he could see you put your hand on his shoulder and smile at him, then you told him you loved him. Steve thought Mike would be embarrassed, would frown, and probably leave you there alone with just your words of affection, but no. Mike smiled shyly, scratched his head, and nodded back, telling you that he loved you too.

You had managed to turn the little spoiled brat into a functional human who had learned the power of saying "I love you" to his friends.

Steve then felt it, as if suddenly something sprouted from within him.

"Dustin, shut up for Crying out Loud," he stopped looking at you and Mike to look his little friend in the eyes. "I swear, Henderson, if you talk any faster, you're gonna make me puke. You talk too much," he gestured with his hands, met with Dustin's serious gaze, "You talk a lot, you're annoying, and I love you," he said abruptly, and after saying it, he realized it was something he had always wanted to say and that it hadn't been so hard, "I love you, dude."

He saw Dustin's bewildered look, who dropped the sandwich from his hands onto the rocks surrounding the lake and hugged Steve tightly, a gesture Steve had to accept because he had opened his mouth in the first place. He didn't look at him; he looked out at the water while unconsciously patting the kid. He heard him let out a small, almost imperceptible sob.

"I love you too, Steve."

That afternoon, he had learned that the best things must be said, and as he drove back to Hawkins after dropping you off at your dorm, he couldn't understand what had really stopped him from telling the truth. Maybe he just made excuses; there had to be a way for you to keep studying without feeling miserable about being away from home and for him to keep loving you without being afraid of not being what you deserved, what you needed, or worse; what you wanted.

But it was too late for regrets. You had a degree to pursue and he had a job to get to.

But he should have spoken, he should have spoken, and that was the repetitive thought that haunted him in the days and weeks after returning without you and with a defeated feeling weighing heavily on his shoulders.

It wasn't easier for you; you constantly found yourself daydreaming in class, and weekends were the worst; if you couldn't talk to your parents, Steve, or the rest of the group on the phone, you'd find yourself depressed in your room reading books and filling your notebook with poems dedicated to someone who would never know. The only time of day that became a bit easier was when you went to bed and put on your headphones, listening to Steve's voice. You had heard him talk about the silly things he did as a child to get his mother's attention and the time Dustin found him trying to climb to Nancy's window with roses. You never got very far in the narration; you always fell asleep quickly, but it wasn't until one particular night that your curiosity was piqued when you woke up from a nightmare and discovered that the cassette was still playing, and you heard Steve's voice talking about something very different from what he had chosen to talk about initially. You rewound the tape a bit, and as you tried to shake off the remnants of a nightmare you were starting to forget, you heard him, unintentionally falling asleep in the middle of his monologue.

"... sometimes I believe all those things," a weary laugh, "I can believe I'm capable of doing all that; because, you know? The real reason I thought I needed my parents' money to sustain myself was that was the only thing that could keep me close to them in some way. Can't they love me? Fine; then let them give me something of themselves. But the thing is, they don't care. Dad stopped giving me money not because he cared about wasting it on me, but because he wanted to teach me a lesson, and it wasn't a life lesson like any parent would do. No, that's not Mr. Harrington's style. What my father wanted was to show me that I'm nobody without him, that my identity is to be a Harrington," he paused, as if it cost him every ounce of his oxygen, and you held your breath along with him, fearing that something would happen and prevent you from continuing to listen, "So... I don't know, Nancy was the first person I wanted to fight for, the one I wanted to get out of that bubble and challenge everything my parents taught me to value. Then when I no longer had Nancy, I realized that without the money, without that house, without the friends who kissed my ass... there was nothing in me to give to anyone else; I was empty," his voice sounded sad, "it was the reality check I needed..." the sound of the tape grain could be heard for long seconds before he spoke again, "And one day, there I was, Robin telling me all the reasons I sucked, and then you showed up with your smile and your hair and your eyes, and you were the same girl I saw all those years in school but at the same time not, and then you asked me what I was doing there. You did it while you waited for me to put your ice cream in a cone, you asked it as if we were old friends, people used to talk. I told you I worked there because I didn't want to work with my father," he laughed, "I don't know why I told you that. Then I handed you the ice cream cone, sure that you thought I was a loser, but you smiled again as if you saw through me. As if you knew exactly what I was talking about and you said, 'Well done'," he laughed again, "just that, you said goodbye to Robin, left me a tip, and smiled at me once more before leaving. I had so much to say to you that I just stayed quiet there at the Scoop's Ahoy counter while Robin put a mark on the side of the board claiming that I didn't suck as much as she thought and that was the first day of my life that I believed there was something more in me than the empty and frivolous king Steve who left high school without a care in the world... darn it, sweets, I'm going to miss you so much..."

You didn't realize you were crying until the tape ended and felt your cheeks damp. You wiped your tears and settled on your side for a sleepless night full of enormous curiosity. You repeated Steve's words to yourself, What would Steve have told you that afternoon in the ice cream shop if you had stayed a little longer? Maybe you wouldn't have to wait another week to see him again, when you went to visit Robin and found her translating a cryptic message in Russian with Dustin Henderson. Maybe things would have been different; maybe since Steve and you didn't quite know each other yet, he would have asked you out, but you would never know.

The next morning didn't help your mood starting with Lewis's class and his very disastrous grade delivery. He gave you a grade low enough that your lack of sleep, excess caffeine, and frustration got you out of your seat and led you to his desk with a furrowed brow and a lot of verbal vomit to let out.

"Can I help you with something?"

You nodded at the disdainful look from your narrative professor.

"Yes, I want to know why I can't get good grades on your exams even though I'm very good and I work very hard."

He looked at you for a few seconds like a snake studying its prey to know the best way to attack.

"Maybe because you try too hard; there's something sad about those who are always trying to please others."

You listened to his words attentively and then let out an incredulous little smile.

"I'm not trying to please others. I know I'm good, I don't need you to pat me on the head or praise me, I just want the right grade to pass this class and graduate the way I want."

He laughed, surprised at your words.

"Oh, is that what you want? Wanting and deserving are not synonyms; one thing is what you want and another thing is what you deserve, and what you deserve is right here in red numbers," he replied, tapping the paper of your exam.

You looked at him for a good moment. To this man with a superiority complex and remembered Steve, who was this bitter man next to Vecna? What was Lewis compared to a demogorgon?

"Allow me to disagree," you murmured back.

"And what do you deserve then? Enlighten me."

You thought about your options. You had a full scholarship like the rest of the group, courtesy of the government as a reward for saving the world without dying in the attempt. If you wanted, you knew you could get into any university just by saying please. You were sure that if you had been more petty, you could have managed to get Lewis fired because that's how much the government kissed all your asses.

You knew at least what you didn't deserve after years of fighting monsters and thinking you would lose your friends and family more than once: you didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve to leave everything you loved in Hawkins for a person who apparently had made it his life goal to ruin yours.

You leaned over his desk and smiled at him.

"Listen to me. You and I both know this is not my grade. You and I both know that for some reason, you hate me and I could live with that if you weren't constantly trying to sabotage me. You know why I'm here," you whispered seriously, "because I did something you'll never do in your life, judging students unfairly behind a desk, and you know that reporting your lack of ethics to the university council would be the easiest thing I've ever had to do in my life. So let's do this; keep hating me and see where that gets you. I'm going to leave my exam here again, and you're going to review it again. And since it's time for the end, I think you can handle me being absent from your class for the next few minutes, can't you?"

He called your name as you turned around and went to get your things from your seat, he was furious but trying to contain himself.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"What I deserve isn't here, Professor Lewis," you replied with determination, some students had started to notice the tension, "And I'm going to find it now. Remember what I told you," you announced with a smile and walked out of the room with a newfound courage you didn't know you had.

Steve missed you too much. Many afternoons he had been on the verge of taking his keys and driving to Indianapolis to visit you, but he knew that went against the whole purpose of you moving to the dorms in the first place. Sometimes he sat alone on his couch, the nights he missed you so much that it was impossible to sleep, and accompanied by a beer, he watched The Princess Bride while imagining that you were there saying how similar the actor who played Westley was to the former mayor of Hawkins, the one Powell had had arrested. Steve laughed because he didn't see much resemblance except for some gestures. It was a painful exercise, imagining you by his side, but it was the only thing that had helped him when not even going on dates with other girls had worked.

"Listen," Phil Callahan approached him with a smile as Steve filled out a form about a recent arrest he and Powell made last week when Mrs. Driscoll's vacant house had been vandalized.

"I'm busy, Cal, what do you want?" he muttered under his breath without looking at him as he wrote, concentrating on the paper.

"My girlfriend has a friend who thinks you'd like to meet her, she's a bit older..."

Steve set the pencil aside and looked at him.

"I'm not interested," he said, moving to the IBM to make a copy of the paper.

"Oh, come on!" Callahan protested, "She doesn't even look her age, seriously, she could pass for 23, 25?"

Steve sighed tiredly, touching his nose with his hands and then running his fingers through his hair.

"It's not because of that, Phil, I just don't want to, period."

He could see the disappointment on Phil Callahan's face as he shook his head.

"Is it because of your friend, right? The one who always carries that book, what's her name...?"

Steve frowned, and it was as if defense protocols within him started to kick in. Even before Callahan kept speculating about you, Steve began walking towards Hopper's office where Joyce and he were sharing lunch and laughter. He knocked on the door that was already half-open and entered the office, interrupting their laughter.

"What did you tell Callahan?"

Joyce tensed up in her seat, leaving the plastic fork in her salad container as she glanced uncomfortably at both of them. Hopper, on the other hand, seemed somewhat pleased, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he remained silent, watching Steve.

"Uh, I'll be going…" Joyce began to rise, grabbing her bag. She went over to Jim and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips goodbye, promising to see him at home that night. As she passed by Steve, she of course touched his shoulder and squeezed it gently before leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

Steve and Hopper shared a staring contest until Hopper adjusted his belt, the one he had to poke another hole in because he had lost weight since Russia, weight he had made an effort not to regain.

He gestured with his hand and spoke up, "Sit." When Steve complied, Hopper leaned back in his chair. "What happened?"

"Callahan wanted to set me up on a double date and I turned him down. He then asked me if it was because of a friend...so I knew you had mentioned something because who else would he talk to about this?" Hopper interrupted with a nod.

"Yeah, I might have mentioned a thing or two about you being in love with a lady who went off to study in Indianapolis."

"Why would you tell him that, of all the cops, to the most annoying one?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"Why not? I knew he'd say something and have you storming into my office, interrupting my quality time with my lady to give me a lecture I don't need," the police chief seemed totally content despite what he had said.

"Jim, you're not making sense and I've got a ton of bureaucratic paperwork to do," Jim rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on his desk.

"If I hear you say 'I've got a ton of paperwork' one more time, I swear I'll kick you out of this station," he muttered, then covered his mouth with his hand thoughtfully and watched him, "You're miserable, Harrington," he declared, "You were one of the top graduates of the academy, you're one of the youngest people ever awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for saving the world, not once, not twice, but five times from extinction. Everyone out there knows it; they saw the TV coverage and saw you receive the medal Reagan gave you, and yet here you are; walking around like a pre-programmed robot and bugging me about what I should or shouldn't talk to my police officers about."

"You did it on purpose!" Jim smiled at Steve's protest.

"Touche," he murmured, "The thing, Steve, is that it's really sad to see you like this. You're young, you're smart, you've got the looks, and you've been busting your butt at work. Last week you raided two drug houses, two!" he reminded him, "You need to slow down a bit and live, and you won't, I know, because she's not here."

That left Steve somewhat perplexed. "I… uh… Hopper."

He stopped him. "If you're going to deny it, don't even bother," he retorted, "You know what? You and I are alike." Steve snorted, earning one of Jim's pseudo-threatening looks. "Yeah, we are. Deep down, we're lone wolves. I lost my little girl, you've heard about that, right? I lost her and I wrecked my whole life; my marriage, my friendships. I breakfasted on whiskey and messed around with so many women I frankly don't remember their names, and it doesn't make me proud. I'd come home late at night because I preferred spending more time at the station than in my own place, after a long day to sit in my armchair, alone in my house, living on memories because I was too scared to make new ones," he admitted, "I had the love of my life right in front of me, and it wasn't until we faced a potentially dangerous situation that I realized I could lose everything I wanted without even having had it."

Steve, silent as a tomb, had to admit inwardly that, much to his dismay, Jim Hopper and he were alike.

"I'm sorry, Hopper."

"Don't be sorry," he replied, "I don't regret any of that because it brought me to where I am now, but I do regret that you have to put yourself in a similar situation when you have the choice to spare yourself and that brilliant young lady all that grief."

Steve furrowed his brow and shook his head somewhat nervously. "She already chose…"

"She's scared," Hopper said intensely, covering his eyes with some impatience, "Damn it, why do we have to explain everything to you guys?" he ran his hand over his face to his chin,

"Hopper, I appreciate your concern, but this isn't your problem…" Steve began to get up.

"It is," he argued.

Steve furrowed his brow. "It isn't."

"It is because you're my problem, kid," he pointed to the chair again, "Sit." Steve sighed wearily but obeyed his police chief, "I'm sorry you lucked out in the crappy parent distribution, but life's unfair, and honestly, you've managed to pull through despite not getting the love you deserved and needed," he murmured, "but you have us. You have me and Joy," he admitted, "She always talks about you guys as our kids, and I've never corrected her, you know why? Because you are, our kids. You're mine, kid. And when I see you sad or tired or angry, I'm going to try my damn hardest to make that stop," he let out that last sentence almost halfway, and for the first time, Steve caught a glimpse of the vulnerable man under the sheriff's facade, Hopper always wore. "Joy did it, Steve: without her, I'd be miserable," he half-smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, "I don't want you to reach my age wondering what could have been if you had gone to find your Joy and given your heart, so do me a damn favor," he settled back into his chair, "Get your butt off my chair, get out of my office, and take the day off. And don't come back until you've gone for her and gotten your smile back," he asked for the form paper that Steve still had in his hand. Steve was frozen, his stomach feeling light, and his mouth somewhat dry from the shock.

Jim Hopper wanted him like a son. Him; the real son of the person he used to hate in school. The guy who wasn't the easiest to deal with on earth, to whom he had given the chance to be and do something despite his fears.

He owed a lot to Jim.

He handed him the sheet and got up from his seat again to walk to the door, but he couldn't leave without saying anything, so he swallowed that lump in his throat and turned back to Hopper.

"Thanks," he barely managed to say.

He saw the sheriff's eyes somewhat cloudy with emotion and nodded.

"Get going, and tell Callahan I want him here in my office yesterday."

Steve gave a smile and left Hopper's office with a new mission that wasn't within that station.

"And?" Cal asked as he ate a donut with a relaxed posture.

Steve went to grab his favorite jacket, the blue windbreaker that had been almost destroyed by a demogorgon and that you had secretly stitched up to surprise him.

"I gotta go. And Hopper's looking for you," was all he said before leaving the station.

When you arrived in Hawkins, you took a taxi that dropped you right outside Steve's house. The huge house looked totally deserted, and the lights remained off. His car was not there, and only the distant chirping of crickets could be heard. You wondered what to do. You didn't want to go to your parents' house and explain your unexpected return to them without first telling Steve. You looked around the house and told the taxi driver he could leave. You'd wait, you told yourself as you sat on the stairs leading to his house. Yes, you would wait; after all, he had to come back at some point, right? So you took out the flashlight that Dustin made you all carry along with a pocket emergency kit and opened one of your books to start reading. If you had defied Lewis this morning, you wouldn't give him reasons to think you were a failure, oh no. Now you were even more determined to graduate from college with or without his approval.

You were not in your university dorms. Your roommate claimed that morning you had returned very early from your classes, grabbed your bag, and announced you were going home for a few days. That abrupt decision made Steve's gut twist with a bad feeling. What if something was wrong? What if you were having another one of your insomnia crises and all the recordings he had made for you had been useless?

So he rushed back to Hawkins with his badge in hand, ready to say his pregnant wife was having strong contractions if any interstate cop stopped him for speeding. When he arrived, he passed by your house and peered through the windows because he didn't want to alarm your parents if you hadn't gone there. You weren't there; you weren't at Robin's or the Wheelers'. And you weren't at Eddie's house because he had had to travel to the West Coast a few days ago. You weren't at Family Video, and you weren't at the lake. So, worried to the tip of his hair and distraught, he thought of one last place you would probably go back to in Hawkins. So he drove his car there and started driving to his house because he was desperate and really wished he could find you there. It was beyond just wanting to see you; it was about making sure you were safe.

The powerful headlights of a car interrupted your reading. You raised your hand in front of you to shield your eyes from the light. You closed your book and set it aside on the paved path when the lights dimmed, and you managed to recognize Steve's vehicle. He abruptly stopped the car, almost on the lawn of the driveway, and got out of the vehicle quickly, slamming the door shut without the consideration he usually gave to his BMW. You waited standing in front of the door of his house and saw his worried expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked when he stopped in front of you, studying you, as if making sure you weren't harmed.

You furrowed your brow. "Yeah, of course, what's wrong?" you asked when you saw him covering his face and running his hand through his hair with relief.

"I… I went to Indianapolis to look for you, and you weren't there. I thought something had happened to you."

"You traveled all the way there and back?!" you asked, seeing his disheveled hair and the traces of concern in his eyes. Then you took him by his arms and nodded. "I'm fine, just… I missed home and needed to come back."

He nodded silently, allowing himself to breathe and then pulled you to him to envelop you in his arms and breathe in your shampoo again. Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the scent for a few moments. It had been a long time since he had smelled that scent, and it felt like a damn eternity.

"I came home because I confronted Lewis," you said finally, still with your face against Steve's chest, your hand inadvertently brushing the fabric of his uniform, which could be seen under his windbreaker.

Steve opened his eyes and let you go, enough to be able to look you in the eyes with curiosity.

"What happened?"

You made a somewhat embarrassed grimace.

"I may or may not have used America's debt to us for our heroic sacrifice to threaten him with getting rid of him if he keeps using his privilege to treat me unfairly," you said, then tilted your head, "or maybe he thought I'd get rid of him like with the demogorgons, but either one works if I want him to leave me alone once and for all."

Steve raised a smile, and the small laugh he let out turned into a bright laugh.

"You're… you're…" he looked at you, embracing you by your lower back and pulling you closer to him, "Joy," he murmured thoughtfully, remembering Hopper's words and starting to laugh, "Damn it, Hopper."

You furrowed your brow and looked at him confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"I had…" he slightly tightened his grip on your back as if giving a small caress, smiled with a look of disbelief on his face as he looked at the ground, trying to find the right words, "...the must surreal conversation with Hopper, and he told me I should look for my Joy, that's what he calls Joyce, so I thought he meant a person to love, but it's more than that, isn't it?" he smiled at you.

You studied him with confusion, unable to understand him.

"I heard your recording. It was about the day we saw each other at Scoop's Ahoy, I didn't even remember what we had talked about that day; you told me about how you didn't want to work for your father so you had chosen to work there instead," you smiled, "It was brave, Steve," you smiled and then swallowed hard, looking at the ground, you were still very close to Steve, maybe you had to take a step back and clear your mind? But his arms still surrounded you, and it felt good, and there was a chance that after this, this would be the last time he would hold you like that. "In the recording," you finally said, "you said you had a lot of things to tell me, that day at the mall, what was it, Steve?"

He observed you in silence, and one of his arms let you go so his hand could comb the hair on one of your sides. His eyes studied your face, and he seemed calm, as if he had made peace with any thoughts inside him, he looked resigned, but happy.

"I don't remember," he half-smiled, "but I'm glad I didn't talk to you that day; I probably would've flirted with you in the worst way possible and invited you to a disappointing date. I would've missed out on everything else…"

You half-smiled, "Do you mean making me pee my pants while trying to save you and Robin from the Russians?"

He chuckled.

"Of your friendship, of… the trips, the afternoons at the lake, and of," he turned his hand to hug you, "this."

Your stomach churned with surprise, and you looked at him expectantly.

"This?" you asked ",What is this?"

He took a deep breath and never stopped looking at you for a second, called you by your name, and then rested his forehead against yours.

"I want you to be happy always, that's why I didn't stop you from moving to the dorms even though just the thought of having to miss you half the year was killing me," he admitted.

You furrowed your brow sadly.

"I wanted to leave because I couldn't bear the goodbyes every Sunday, but the truth is, what would break me the most would be having to say goodbye to you without knowing if while I was there you would meet your girl and suddenly forget about me," you confessed back, practically declaring your feelings for him to his face, "I preferred to run away than to have to see you all the time and just be your friend."

He closed his eyes with his forehead still against yours.

"You are my happiness," he whispered with his breath hitting you, "I want to love you."

"You've already been doing that," you murmured as you felt his nose touch yours and his face turned to meet yours, his lips meeting yours.

"Then I'm going to love you more," he promised just before kissing you.

That kiss didn't feel like any other kiss you had given before. It was as if you were finally home, and this was the way Steve welcomed you. The softness of his lips sent small electric shocks through your body; you could hear the beating of your own heart as Steve caressed your face. Steve smiled into the kiss; this was much better than he imagined every time he looked at your lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss you.

This made it real; Steve's dream and your dream becoming one.

When you separated, you didn't do it much, just a few inches, enough to breathe and look at each other with fascination. It felt like the first time Steve saw you.

"Did you visit your parents when you arrived?" you shook your head, and Steve smiled, "Do you want to stay?" he asked, and you nodded again, still catching your breath and unable to speak yet. Steve laughed and then moistened his lips with his tongue, combing your hair, "Do you know what that means?"

You shook your head, "What does it mean?"

Steve lowered his hands to your thighs, lifting you up in the air, and making you cling to him, hugging him with your legs as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"You're going to sleep like a rock ronight, Babe," he said with a laugh, and you cradled his face to give him another kiss while Steve walked to the door and opened it quickly with you still in his arms.

He didn't let go of you, not even when he put you in bed with him and talked to you until both fell asleep.

The next morning, Steve arrived late at the station, his hair still wet, and he entered apologizing, but from the expression on his face, he didn't seem to regret it. The smile never left his face, and Hopper hid his behind his coffee mug when he saw him leave in a hurry as soon as the shift ended.

Well, now he had a reason to go home.

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #friends to lovers #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington

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marengogo · 1 year

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Well Well Well … - 4 : JK: “Hello Dear My Brides …”

Listening to the whole album DIM by the GazettE

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

My day was amazing. I witnessed the happening of the “Hope-Cole World”. I successfully texted, unbothered, friends, family and my lovely S/O. I worked peacefully, for once this week, quick and pleasant meetings, with no bitching emails and no gen Z causing problems 😬😜😘🫰🏾. The day finally ended in a night of debauchery with my bff and now that I finally got home, it is stupid o’clock, and instead of sleeping, perhaps just like JK, I’m allowing my deep thoughts/inner self or whatever you wanna call them to take over and do as they please; because why not?

Thing is, to people like myself, “Stupid o’clock” is a very attractive place to be in. It usually is a period of time belonging to the beginning hours of the following day, but because most people are usually sleeping, it doesn’t actually feel like the following day has begun, meaning that for a couple of hours, you feel like you are kind of in a limbo, where time has stopped ant this, to people like myself, who feel like we have no control whatsoever over our time, people who feel like we are constantly running out of time, this temporary limbo, feels extremely comforting.

This limbo feels like we can finally have some sort of control over our own time. Yet, as one of those people, I have finally come to realise and accept that my perceived sense of constantly “running out of time”, is the main cause of my insomnia and today’s life has made me wonder if perhaps JK also feels the same? … Who knows right? But actually, this is just me rambling and heavily projecting.

So let’s leave my insomnia and losing-time-paranoia aside for a second. As you might have read from the beginning of this blog, where I always tell you what I am listening to, I am currently listening to the GazettE’s album DIM. I started listening to the GazettE a good 15 years ago, at least. Back then, they became all I listened to for a good couple of years. Presently, I do still love them, also got to see them live in 2019, however, I only listen to them occasionally, cause the GazettE are not your everyday happy-go-lucky band. No. They are a band you listen to when you have angst, so much angst you could “sell it for a living”.

So, yes, I am angsty. And, yes, JK’s live made me angsty. JK’s respectful regards towards those who are causing him harm made me angsty and made me think of the GazettE’s song DISTRESS AND COMA in particular. Hence, until I let this angst out, I will not be able to sleep, though I will most likely end up falling asleep from exhaustion, and most likely wake up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all which what's the point? So allow me to address how I perceived JK’s not-absurd request, through this particular song, which I feel describes the scenario quite perfectly, at least it’s beginning.

DISTRESS AND COMA (which is in the album I am listening) begins like this:

🎶Until your distress sleeps

Fill me up with your grief

Until your distress sleeps

Fill me up with your grief

Until your distress sleeps🎵

This part I associated with JK being awake at Stupid o’ Clock for his own reasons. What ALL these reasons are exactly we will never know unless he tells us directly. However, feeling like you “you don’t want to sleep” when you are clearly sleepy, in my personal experience, is sort of like trying to battle with yourself in order to stay awake, which you might think of as being directly opposite to insomnia, however if you keep at it for long enough, you’ll end up distorting your regular sleeping pattern, which eventually will lead to insomnia (as you will feel like sleeping during times when you are supposed to be awake, and can’t sleep because of work, while consequently end up being awake during times in which you are supposed to be sleeping).

The song then continues:

🎶Hello dear my bride,

何を見ているの (what are you watching?)..🎵

After this, Ruki (the GazettE’s vocalist) begins to talk about his relationship with his “bride”, which isn’t a bride in the sense of a female partner he married, but a particularly tragic symbolic figure. In the same way, when JK so candidly and honestly spoke to us about his “boxing stalking incident”, he was talking to someone with whom he had a deep connection, someone with whom he promised he’d walk together for better, for worse … kinda like a bride. So it felt to me that, like in this song, JK was talking to us and nonchalantly started the live, as always, by saying “Hello dear my brides, what are you doing? …

From here on, Ruki goes on talking about the toxic-relationship he has built with his “bride”. How he doesn’t mind getting hurt and hopes that the resulting scar will not disappear; as long as they are both able to finally fall asleep, he’ll gladly take on his “bride’s” DISTRESS AND COMA instead. But here is where JK is trying to change the song. He still wants to be a vessel for his “bride” to be able to sleep and not be distressed, HOWEVER, in a healthy way, as they both are at a point in their relationship where neither needs to get hurt, neither needs to lose sleep, neither needs to be scarred.

Having to actually hear JK address this made me feel like shit. NGL.

Not even going to address the perpetrators cause nothing I can say can ever express just how much I despise you. NOTHING.

His tone wasn’t angry, it wasn’t condescending, nor demanding. And although he wasn’t crying or pleading, the gentle and calm demeanor with which he asked for his privacy to please not be invaded, hurt so much more than it would have had he resorted to any of the aforementioned manners. It hurt, it hurt, as an empath, it hurt so fucking much.

It hurts because he shouldn’t have to say this. And we all know that. It hurts because the person that stalked him can't call themself ARMY. And we all know that. It hurts because he is trying to be understanding, and find a solution, amicably, because he always feels a connection to ARMY and perhaps he feels like it is his duty to try and reach out. And we all know that. Reason why it hurts knowing that there are people out there who never gave, don’t give and will never give a fuck about any of these. And we all know that, as I am sure he knows as well.

But I guess that sometimes, even if you know it may be futile, you still want to give it a try? And in JK’s case I’m sure he was aware that maybe it was going to work and most likely not, but at least he would have tried, so at the very least, he’d have no regrets, right? And if his effort did end up failing, if, for example in this case, the once-a-sasaeng-still-a-sasaeng keeps being a problem, then maybe he’d have to resort to the more drastic measures, which he was trying to avoid.

Something tells me, that even though in my opinion they’d deserve all of it, he’d still feel sorry about it, but ultimately he’d make peace with it, because he’d know that, like everyone else, he is also human and he has the right to basic things such as being able to enjoy a bit of privacy. But then again, he’d cross that bridge if he got there, I guess. For now, the important thing to JK is perhaps that he thought it was worth for him to try and express himself, to vulnerably open himself up to us for better or for worse, and perhaps this had nothing to do with his insomnia, or perhaps it did, as always, we’ll never know, REGARDLESS OF ALL MY RAMBLING, I’m actually glad that he lost the stay awake battle! though that beautiful candle ended up becoming a bit triggering 😬 …

So I apologies for confusingly waxing poetic over this, imma now try and go to sleep myself.

Always respectfully yours 🙏🏾💜,

Marengo.

#Well Well Well...#Things JK shouldn't Have To Say #Yet here we are...

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gozaimachi · 10 months

Text

i’ve been thinking about this, that both of these people have a massive and growing audience. sure not all people are their audience. but one thing for sure, they possess a kind of power to influence people in such a way. like, whatever they bake, people would eat that cake.

sometimes people don’t like the cake, sometimes it takes people to eat the cake a few times to realize the cake is so good, and most of the time, there are these people who love the cake at the first bite. note that just because some of these people don’t like the cake, they’re pretty loyal because these bakers—in their pov—are trusted. they don’t like a certain cake the bakers made, but that doesn’t mean the other cakes they’ve baked are awful.

it do be like that.

i wonder, how can they engage a massive audience like that?

so here are my observations:

a. they started from bottom.

nolan’s directorial debut, following (1998), was produced with a tight budget. he never went to film school. his uncle was an actor, but even with that, it didn’t help him to climb the ladder. the second movie, memento (2000) his first oscar nomination along with his lil bro.

taylor’s parents gotta sell their farm so they can move to nashville. she never went to music school, but she got her guitar. she was noticed by SB and (trapped) signed in his record label. her second album, fearless was a boom.

and i think the year where both finally got their first reputation to build a solid base for their career—which also grow throughout the years—was 2008.

the dark knight & fearless.

b. writer

i always believe in the power of writer and their words. as we know, taylor wrote her own songs—whether she co-wrote it or not.

same goes with nolan, he wrote all his movies (and also had collaborated with other writers) except for insomnia (2002) which i think, has the weakest storytelling among his other movies.

c. powerful storyteller

all can be a writer, but not all of them can be a storyteller, especially a powerful one.

this is the power they possess. that’s not something easy to do. you have to be trusted, to be smart, but most importantly, to get close to audience’s emotions. you have to be personal. hits like home.

and they nail it.

d. distinctive

they are just like other musician and filmmaker, but they are different. you just can tell.

they’re not different that makes others feel alienated, but they’re not the same.

this is a formula that i don’t understand.

but if you watch their interviews or speech, you would catch different sentence but one meaning: believe in yourself.

they know what they’re doing. they allow themselves to be disliked. but they never let those things bring them down.

they keep reinventing themselves.

taylor? she’s working on re-recording her albums. she’s not the first singer to do this, BUT to be able to outsold yourself is not easy. she also directed her music. her directorial debut, all too well short film won grammy.

nolan? he was the pioneer for filmmakers to use imax camera which was used for the first time for the dark knight. oppenheimer script was written from the first point of view of the main lead aka oppenheimer himself.

they trust themselves and not focusing on result, but process. that’s what people called as determination.

these people are the ones i look up to.

p. s. this is just for fun fact: they’re both fire sign.

@taylorswift

#taylor swift #christopher nolan #swift #nolan #music #film #movie

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ghostofscarley · 2 years

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@volturiwolf

this was orginally gonna be an ask but it was getting long and i was still on the first song so here we are

hi lovie <3 it's 3am for me rn and my insomnia is playing up and that whole love triangle has been on my mind and i remember talking abt it in your 'exiles' chapter so i'm here to rant abt it bc i'm so in love with it and it lives rent free in my mind.. i'm rlly abt to test tumblr ask's word limit.. so i named the songs august, betty and cardigan (we'll mention illicit affairs in a little bit) which are from the perspectives of each character of the love triangle (betty, james and augustine).. it's a teenage, summer love triangle, though cardigan is set 20-30yrs later..

august is from the perspective of augustine, or the 'other girl' in this triangle, the 'affair'.. only, she's this sweet girl who truly falls for this boy who spends his summer with her, taking her virginity and whispering sweet nothings despite having another girl. in the second verse, it's when the infatuation or love starts to become evident as, like any girl in love, she wants to claim him in some way, to reassure herself that he is hers.. in the second verse, it's also clear that it's a teenage love bc augustine wonders whether james will still stay in contact with her once school is back only to then say 'i remember thinking i had you' whilst also saying over and over 'you were never mine' and how their 'love' was 'never mine'.. she's completely infatuated with this 'summer love' that she cancels all plans to be with him in the case that he called.. the song also has this lyric that has somewhat a double meaning.. she says 'meet me behind the mall'.. being an affair, their meet ups are always behind a closed door or behind buildings.. this lyric can also be viewed as 'meet me behind them all' as similarly, the affair happens outside of the view of others..

betty is from the perspective of james and set after summer and the affair are over. ths song is set to act like an apology letter.. in the song, we find that betty found out abt the affair, hence the apology, from 'inez' who spread the rumour, and amongst all the other runours she had spread, this was the one time it had been true. in the second verse, we find that james had been with betty at a social event when he had stood to the side bc he wasn't fond of crowds when betty went off to dance with this guy.. seeing this, james left and was walking along the cobblestone path when augustine pulled up.. he then goes on to say that the days he spent with her turned to nights yet whilst it all happened, he was thinking of betty.. throughout the whole song, james blames his actions of cheating on the fact that he was young, 17 and didn't know anything.. in contrast to augustine who referred to their affair as a 'summer love', he referred to the affair as a 'summer thing'.. the reoccurring theme of james showing up to betty' party occurs as he shows up on her doorstep to profess his love, despite not being the biggest fan of crowds, yet we find that he's still not as empathetic or remorseful as he says 'will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends'.. he's just a piece of shit

cardigan is from the perspective of betty and is set 20-30years later, often being sung from past tense as it represents betty looking back on the relationship.. the song compares betty to an old cardigan that's tossed aside and left discarded for dust to consume before being pulled out and tossed on as if it were their favourite, showing how no matter how long james left for, how many girls he went after (or how many different cardigans he wore), he'd always come back and claim that she was his favourite. unlike james, who placed the blame on his young age, betty says "when you are young, they assume you know nothing, but i knew you" and what he was doing and how despite her age, she had grown and matured and knew what was happening.. in the second verse, she says that he gave her his weekends which showed how unimportant she had been to him around this time as we knew that he was spending the summer with augustine. the whole trilogy just had references left, right and centre.

unlike august, betty and cardigan, which had been confirmed to be connected, illicit affairs is kinda just something that everyone sees as an 'on the side'.. the title itself kinda pointed that out.. 'make sure nobody sees you leave, hood over your head, keep your eyes down', augustine and james would always meet up 'behind the mall' to ensure that no one would see. 'so you leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist', as soon as the summer was over, james had dropped augustine as if she was nothing and no longer existed in his life as he went to fix things with betty. 'look at this idiotic fool that you made me. you taught me a secret language i can't speak with anyone else', her love for him blinded her yet brought this nice feeling for the amount of time that she had that she felt lole an idiotic mess and felt lost, like she'd never get that feeling from anyone else..

that's all from me.. i'm bloody exhausted.. literally it's such a shitty explanation but one nonetheless.. literally obsessed with folklore just as a whole.. if you read this far, i love you, i mean i love you either way but yk.. muah.. goodnight <3

#ghostofscarleytalks #volturiwolf #folklore #august #betty #cardigan #augustine #james #illicit affairs #<3

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warmau · 3 years

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☆ko-fi au: nostoligic summer romance!au hanbin find other ikon aus here

the sun burns your shoulders and the skin of your heel. you stand on it and bear the pain as you look down at hanbin, whose face is covered by one of those three-dollar nude magazines

"get up"

"can't you see i am asleep?"

the wind blows some small wisps of hair around your face - somewhere in the distance, you hear junhoe chase a beachball down the shore as jiwon yells for him to race back to the rest of your friends

"hanbin, you are not wasting your summer spread out like this, not doing anything. you are not a piece of seaweed."

"you sound like my mother"

you nudge his elbow with your toe

"did you finish your graduate school application?"

"yeah, im working on it right now looking at -"

he lifts the magazine off his face and flips to a random page, turning it around to face you

averting your gaze you make a sound of disappointment

"the deadline already passed, the school is giving you an extension because they know you'll be a great addition to the program. does that not mean anything to you?"

hanbin lets the next gust of wind pull the magazine from his weak grip and float it pathetically to his left

the silence is his answer in a way and search his face, now that you can see it properly, for anything else

his dark eyes are void and highlighted by a shadow of darkness.

his lips are chapped.

the scratch he got from face planting in the public pool's changing room last weak is still sitting on his cheek only half-hidden under a kids bandage

"hanbin, this is your future"

you whisper it - like it's your future too

maybe because somewhere subconsciously buried in both your chests. you both know it is.

"i know"

you turn around and take his apathy as the final stake in the ground

after years of caring about him, of one-sided adoration hidden behind affectionate and worried friendship

you have learned the hanbin is more stubborn than an ox - especially when he gives up

when you find yourself walking home back alone - the sun still blasting an uncomfortable heat onto your skin - you try to pretend the overwhelming feeling of crying isn't itching its way out

i can't help him forever, especially if he doesn't want to help himself

hanbin calls three days later

"do you want to go fishing with me and jinhwan?"

"fishing?"

"jinhwan said he's trying new hobbies."

you are silent for a second, a part of you wants to explode.

what are you talking about fishing! the application asks you to finish an entire song. to show your effort! who gives a fuck about fishing!

the other part of you is dormant. uninterested.

jinhwan is already a successful editor, maybe he can help hanbin find the right path better than i can.

"no thanks."

you hang up first, something you've never done with hanbin

you're both balanced in that sense - you are usually soft and forgiving and never want to hurt anyone's feelings. you just want to keep helping and helping until there's nothing left of you.

hanbin is more strict - people have to prove themselves to him otherwise he cuts them off without a qualm.

you get a text a few minutes later from jinhwan:

are you and your husband fighting?

my husband? i didn't know i finally married that millionaire from my dreams.

haha im talking about hanbin

you purse your lips. everyone in the world wants 'us' to happen.

no. we're not fighting. he doesn't want to go to grad school.

so?

your fingers hover over the keyboard. right, so what? not like it's your business to run your friend's life.

but that's not it. something is so wrong. hanbin will work on music till his eyes and ears bleed. why is it that composing one little thing for this application that is just going to better his life so hard? why is he so against it?

leaving jinhwan without an answer, you throw yourself on your bed and tell yourself that you have to break this habit

you've been putting hanbin over yourself since you were both young

getting in trouble with him when in reality you'd done nothing but try to stop him from doing something stupid

staying up with him when he'd go through bouts of bad insomnia

shoving your own secrets and pain down to comfort him about his own

you have your own life, goal, and dreams

it's your fault for somehow always imagining that hanbin would want to be part of them

"can you please talk to hanbin again."

jiwon, junhoe, and donghyuk take up the space in your car as you pull into the parking lot of the local mall

you turn the key in the ignition, jiwon and junhoe are sitting far apart in the back seat, still managing to look cramped and donghyuk looks at you sympathetically from the passenger side

"im not avoiding him."

"you're totally avoiding him."

again. you want to explode and also say nothing at all. why are there expectations on you as his friend and not the other way around?

"have you guys asked him about his grad school application? you all have your futures planned - and he's lost."

jiwon pops his bubble gum at the worst possible moment and junhoe looks awkward without an answer to come out of his big mouth.

donhyuk puts a hand on your shoulder

"he didn't just give up, you know."

you snort, "it looked that way to me."

opening the door, you step out and tell the little voice in your head that wonders out loud if hanbin needs your help to please shut up

it's two days before the extension deadline. you know this because it pops up as a reminder on your google calendar and you grumble as you delete it.

having his deadlines on my schedule like he's my goddamn boyfriend or something.

you want to enjoy your summer before you go back to school too, so you dig out a big t-shirt and bathing suit to take to the pool

only when you sling the shirt over yourself do you pick at the worn fabric and groan

this is hanbin's isn't it? the coffee stain at the bottom is totally his signature.

someone knocks on the door of your room, half expecting a family member you open it without caution and nearly throw it shut when you see hanbin in the frame

the only thing that stops you from doing so is the look of utter desperation on his face

"hanbin? when is the last time you slept?"

he breaths through his nose and mumbles maybe three or four days ago

you pull him into your room and shut the door, you try to examine him for any other signs of fatigue but he looks otherwise the same

skinny, slightly hunched over and more beautiful than you could ever say out loud in fear of dying on the spot of embarrassment

"is it your insomnia? do you need to go to the doc-"

"i can't compose the song."

you wave your hand to dismiss the sentence, "that doesn't matter right now. you have to take care of your health first and-"

"i can't stop thinking about you."

suddenly irritated with his tone - you snap under the weight of it all

"you cannot blame your inability to finish this application or giving up or not sleeping on me. just because we haven't spoken in a bit-"

"that's not what i meant."

you cross your hands over your chest, you can feel a fire unlike any other of anger lick up your spine

if he is going to pin this on me somehow im going -

"i love you."

"are you crazy?"

you blurt out your words before you really even hear his own. you were expecting him to start spinning some elaborate tale about how not seeing you or you avoiding him had somehow damaged him further

but this is hanbin, and you admit that never has he put the blame on you without you taking it on willingly

so you blink past the initial shock and ask him to repeat himself

he straightens his bad posture, looks at you and sees past the surface level

"i love you. it's making everything else a blur, so i need to tell you."

"you- you should have told me before."

"i thought you'd slap me." he laughs weakly, but it is forced "or that you'd think i was lying to get you off my back about the application."

you soften, your hands uncross and you drop the defensive look on your face

hanbin runs a line from your eyes to your knees

"are you wearing my shirt?"

"i love you too."

the spell of dread that seems to have clung itself into every nook and cranny of hanbin's existence seems to be exorcised when you say those words to him

like a light has entered the part of him that has been pitch black for weeks now

he doesn't kiss you right after you say it, he kisses you two days later when he submits his application with a song he spent thirteen hours on creating

the song is about that light, the kind of easy feeling of being put into the right puzzle with the right person

that's when he kisses you - when he meets the deadline - and you throw your arms around him and the world starts rotating in the right direction again

summer is still left over for you two to enjoy, you rush around the beach with your friends, you go fishing with jinhwan who decides he hates it at some point, and you spend whatever minute you can with hanbin

even if you're with others, your hands are always glued together. you look at him when you think he's distracted. he looks at you regardless, unashamed of the teasing that comes your way

'it finally happened! they realized they're perfect for each other!'

and when you're alone with your legs tangled with his and hanbin's nervous, soft mouth on the slope of your back. that same uncapped love bursts from both of you.

when summer dwindles and hanbin gets an email about his application

he celebrates by pressing you up against the desk and nearly toppling his laptop over

"can i ask you something?" he plays with a strand of your hair after as the sweat sticks you two together "were you so adamant about me getting into grad school because you love me or-"

you rest your chin on his chest and sigh

"yes, but because it'll help you achieve your dreams. and it'll give you a future that's stable. a future that i want for you and-"

you get shy, tucking your face into his skin

"and?"

he asks, but you just kiss him instead.

when it's ten years after - and hanbin has become successful in ways he had never dreamed

you are successful in your own right too

you're equals and your lives are full of each other and your work and everything else

and hanbin realizes when he's looking at rings by himself after work one day what you wanted to say all that time ago

you wanted him to have a good future so that it could tie in with yours

he reminds himself to ask you when he gets home, by what age had you already planned the wedding?

he expects you will stick your tongue out at him when he does, and you do, but he doesn't expect you to cry for half an hour when he pulls the little box out of his pocket.

#nostalgia au #hanbin au #hanbin scenarios #b.i au #b.i scenarios #hanbin #b.i #ikon au #ikon imagines #ikon scenarios #ko fi commissions #slightly suggestive

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Pianist pt 2 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Read part 1 part 3.

Jude was having a good day.

The landlord had been ignoring her emails, as usual, but somehow Cardan had had a quiet week this week. She would have thought he was away, or sick or something, had she not been seeing him with his friends in their regular booth at the diner. And even those pricks couldn’t get her down today.

She whistled as she tied on her apron.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Van commented.

“I am,” Jude replied. “Someone left me fifty bucks this morning.”

Van whistled. “Damn, which cafe has those kind of tips?” he asked.

“None of them,” Jude told him. “I was busking at the subway station.”

Jude always spent her free time busking. It was mostly for fun, but she did derive an amount of satisfaction knowing that any of her money, even if it was just a few dollars at a time, came from her singing.

“Well I hate to bring you down, but you’ve got table 13 this morning.”

“I know,” Jude said, sticking her notebook in her apron pocket and picking up the coffee pot. “But you know what? I don’t care today.”

Jude strolled to her table, and stared around at them with a grim determination. The table's usual occupants stared back.

Nicasia, a beautiful dancer with blue hair. Twenty years ago, her mother was the principal dancer at New York City Ballet, and she now sat on the board of directors.

Valerian, an actor who got into a punch up the previous year when he lost a role and nearly got expelled. His parents were wealthy and connected enough that he wasn't.

Locke, who wrote plays and scripts and was vaguely known to dabble in music and dance as well. His father was a Broadway producer and a few of Locke's works had been staged in small theaters already.

And Cardan. The beautiful, talented, awful, hedonistic pianist himself.

"Hello and welcome to Elfhame's diner, what can I get for you?"

She didn't bother with the sickly sweet smile she usually put on for customers. These people were the worst, and she would simply maintain her dignity and not let them get to her. The fifty dollar note was warm in her bra, like a good luck charm.

"Hey... Jude," Nicasia said, peering at Jude's nametag like they hadn't been coming to this diner and served by her several times a week for the past four years. Valerian burst into a Beatles chorus. "You know," she continued, "I've seen you around."

Jude rolled her eyes. "Yes, I've only been working in this diner since you guys started coming here, so you've probably seen me before."

"No," Nicasia said. "Not here."

"Well," Jude responded impatiently. "I also work at Mab's Tavern and Java Island. Girl's gotta eat. I'm 'around'."

But Nicasia shook her head. "No honey, I've seen you seen you. You sing outside the Lincoln Centre subway station."

Jude froze. It was more than confirmation enough for Nicasia, whose eyes took on a predatory glow.

"It is you, I knew I recognised you from somewhere!" Nicasia leaned her chin in her hands. "Sing us something, darling."

"You want music? The jukebox is over there," Jude told her. "Now what do you want to eat?"

"Oh come on," Valerian said, crossing his ankles on the corner of the table. "Let's have a little live entertainment while we eat!"

"Yes," Nicasia purred. "You know, if we like it we might even put a good word in for you at Juilliard."

"I'm sure she's wonderful," Locke said. He looked at her. "Jude, don't listen to them, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Cardan said nothing. Just sat with his head on the table, probably nursing a hangover.

"Maybe you could sing us the specials," Valerian suggested. Then he frowned. "Although, if you're terrible, that might put us all off our appetites."

"You can all order now," Jude said, smiling widely, "or you can all have sloppy joes. I don't care one way or the other."

"Touchy," Nicasia frowned. But then she ordered, and the boys followed suit. Valerian broke out in another rendition of 'Hey Jude' as she walked away, until she heard Cardan tell him to kindly shut up. Jude could not comment on his acting ability, but Valerian was a god-awful singer.

/////

Cardan sat with his head on the table and his hangover shoved up his nose.

This week he had actually gotten some sleep. Just not in his bed- he had fallen asleep on the floor most nights, listening to the woman's voice in the downstairs apartment. He had even tinkered the song she sang on the piano once or twice, but then felt so desperately pathetic that he went out with Locke and Valerian last night and they all got black out drunk and woke up in Nicasia's room. Cardan had no memory of going there, but they had all trudged out for a late breakfast this morning and he had no idea how the rest of them were so chipper.

He didn't know what they were talking about but at some stage Valerian started singing- if you could call it that- and Cardan raised his head long enough to order. "Coffee. Just... coffee."

The waitress nodded, and for a second she looked hauntingly familiar. But then she turned on her heel and was gone, and Cardan's forehead found the cool metal surface of the table once more.

Cardan had not heard back from his parents, but now that he knew they were going to be in the audience for his next performance, he suddenly had no idea what to play. He had originally planned to compose something for the occasion, but inspiration had dried up, and he had barely played anything all week. Had very little motivation at all, and might even have just crawled into bed and stayed there had his friends not insisted on dragging him around with them.

The next day they decided to look for the waitress around the different subway stations.

Lord knew why; Cardan hadn't been paying attention because he didn't care much what they had to say at the best of times let alone when the outside air itself seemed to rub harshly against his skin. It was times like these that he had to rather wrack his brain for why these people were his friends in the first place. He supposed they had always been his friends, they were the children of his parents' friends and somehow this made them his own friends by default. Or something like that.

At any rate, he was towed along the subway line, from station to station and in general spending much more time underground in the space of an hour than he had otherwise done all year. Cardan had no idea why they were so determined to find the waitress- she was attractive enough, but Nicasia and Valerian in particular had previously been very vocal about their criteria for who they hung out with. People who worked in diners tended not to make the cut.

Finally, when he could smell more of the Harlem River than he wanted to, Nicasia stopped them.

"There she is," she breathed. And at first, Cardan was just happy to stop walking. But then he heard her.

She was singing 'Ain't No Sunshine,' but Cardan knew her voice from a different song. A wordless lullaby that floated up through the air vents and sang to him at night. A cure for the insomnia that had plagued him for twenty years and then some. He'd know it if she were singing Old MacDonald.

Jude. That was her name, he realised with a jolt. And more surprisingly, she was gorgeous. How had he not realised before? Cardan watched her sing, with her eyes closed and her hands moving, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The other three giggled on the sidewalk, and as the song came to an end, they tripped forward to talk to her. Jude looked around with a smile that could break a man's heart, as the crowd around her applauded. And then she looked up and saw his friends, and her smile vanished. Saw him, and he had no idea what to do once her doe brown eyes were on him. He just turned, and walked quickly away.

Okay okay I think we have direction! Let me know what you think!

****

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler

#jurdan #jurdan fic #tfota #mine

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g0ldengubler · 4 years

Text

chapter one~one wild night

(*gif made by recsbylotte*)

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter is so long, but I had to get everything down, I was having too much fun with this concept. Also, please give a listen to the song Nauseous here so you get the full idea of where this story will go and if you like the song, check out Zubin's other songs as well! Highly suggest the song "Backseat" which also has Fantasy Camp! Ok, enjoy :)

Category: Smut

CW: light-ish smut, fingering, alcohol, weed (please smoke responsibly!)

Word Count: 3985

before you read | next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great job everyone!" said Aaron Hotchner to his team.

Everyone in the BAU team gave a small round of applause on their jet, but yours was a bit louder than the rest. This was your first case and you worked so hard to solve it with the team to prove that you deserve to be with them. You wanted this job since you were a little girl. Jason Gideon was holding a class on the basics of profiling with his partner, David Rossi, and you and your dad went because you both loved watching 80's crime and law shows like "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock", and from the way your eyes would be glued to the tv, he knew that you wanted to be someone like Jessica Fletcher and her friends at Cabot Cove.

At one point, Gideon asked a question and you answered it right away, which took both of them back a bit, including your dad and everyone else in the room. A ten year old girl, understanding what was being said and not getting scared of the pictures that were shown. You were sure some of them thought of you crazy, but your dad was proud.

After the class, THE Jason Gideon and THE David Rossi came up to the two of you to talk. You were totally fangirling a bit because the two people you looked up to wanted to say how shocked but also kind of happy that someone so young was fascinated with this subject. Rossi told you several years later when you went to one of his book signings, that once you were old enough to give him a call and he'd set some things up to get you into the academy, and that's exactly what happened when you turned 21.

Because of your love of solving crime, you worked hard in school. So much so you were one of the top students. College was no different, and Rossi seemed to notice. He kept tabs on you from time to time to see how you were doing after you emailed him about doing well in high school and your first year of college. During your second year, Rossi asked if you could come to the BAU and talk with him and his coworker, Aaron, who was the team leader. They both agreed that you were incredible in your studies and saw a lot of potential in you. Your dream was starting to come true after accepting their invitation to the academy, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Now you were 25, and Hotch had officially welcomed you to the team. As the ride back continued, you remembered how your first day went, even though it was only a few days ago. You met the team, and right away, you befriended the only one closer to your age, Dr.Spencer Reid. You remembered seeing his long hair and cardigan kind of melting together as he sat down at the round table and gave you a small wave. You didn't have many friends growing up, but he reminded you of your only friend back home, but that almost brought you to tears straight away, making you snap out of your daydreams.

You get up to have a glass of water. As your pouring, someone scares you from behind.

"Hey, Y/N!" A man's voice said.

You jumped which made you spill some water all over the place. "Spencer!"

"I am so sorry!" He chuckles as you both grabbed some paper towel to clean the counter, laughing at the incident.

You both go back to your seats, which were right next to each other on the couch. After meeting Spencer on your first day, Rossi told you that you two would get along perfectly. And you did. It made you feel comfortable right away and you pulling a...well, you, you were stuck to him like glue as a safety net. You used to think it was something every newbie did on their first day; try to find someone who you click with and stick with them until you got the ropes. Apparently, that was something people found annoying, and had you fired the first two jobs you got. With Spencer, however, he didn't mind it, which made you feel unsure but happy at the same time.

You and Spencer talked about the similarities you had and laughed at all the nerdy jokes you were making. At one point, another member of the team, Derek Morgan, had to throw a pillow at Spencer because he was laughing so loud and he was trying to sleep, which made even Hotch (who you guessed never even cracked a smile before) laugh a little bit.

"Boys, behave," Jj joked, not even looking up, "Or daddy's going to send you to your rooms when we get home."

"Ok, pLEASE don't say "daddy" ever again unless your at home." said Emily Prentiss, which made everyone laugh even harder.

You could tell that this team was more than just coworkers getting the job done, they were a family. And YOU were invited into this family. This was a feeling you always wanted: friends acting like a family.

30 Minutes Later

Finally you were back at the BAU. The case was stressful, and the flight back kinda made you tired, but your excitement and happiness were taking over rapidly. You usually fought those feelings because you felt emotions differently than others, and it always annoyed the people around you. Tonight was different, so you cut yourself some slack for once.

As you head back to your desks, Hotch spoke. "You guys deserve a break after that case. The heads of the BAU are giving us one month off. Get some rest and enjoy your vacation. Garcia invited us all to her place to celebrate but sadly Rossi and I are going to have to pass tonight. Jack has a big game tomorrow and I don't think the parents would be too pleased if their kid's coaches were hungover."

On cue, Penelope Garcia runs in with her bags. "Oh we're gonna have fun-to-night!"

"What exactly are we doing?" asked Emily.

"It's a surprise silly, but yes there will be alcohol of course." She then turns to you, walking up to go to elevator arm in arm.

"Y/N," she says, rambling to you how the team usually celebrates and what the plan was as you make your way to the elevator, "ok usually we'd go to our favorite restaurant or club or go to rossi's when we can but tonight I really want to celebrate the success on your first case!"

"Aww, Garcia!" you said as Morgan pressed the button, "Your so sweet. Thank you guys, seriously."

"Trust me, Y/N, this night is going to be one of the best nights ever!"

At Garcia’s Morgan sets the alcohol on the counter as everyone settles in. You sit on the couch with Spencer and Emily, getting a good look of Garcia's apartment. Purple walls with shiny (plastic) jewl's, cat toys filled most of the corners. Just as you saw the toys, a black cat jumps onto your lap making you jump a little.

"Aww, Sergio!" said Emily, "Thank you again Garcia for watching him for me while I go on cases."

"Are you kidding me? He's become a lovely roommate at the Garcia Gardens!" says Garcia as she brings over some bottles and glasses. She sets them down and begins to pour the Vodka shots.

"Garcia 'Gardens"? Jj asked.

"They both have G's, I don't know it seemed to work." They both laugh.

Morgan helps Garcia pass out the shots, getting ready for a toast. Everyone stands up, holding theirs shots a few inches away from their face.

"I would like to make a toast," said Garcia, "not just for the success of this case and because we have a month off, but to Y/N. She has done wonders this week, and I am so happy and grateful that you are now apart of our little family. To Y/N!"

"To Y/N!" Everyone cheered as they clinked their shot glasses.

You thought you were about to cry. You've never felt this much love in a room ever.

Everyone took their shots and sat back down. You look over at Spencer and laugh at the face he makes.

"God, I usually don't drink Vodka but that was an experience." he says.

"Oh c'mon," you said, "already gonna pussy out?"

"Now those were fighting words, Pretty Boy!" Morgan chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?" Spencer asks.

"Ok, I'm taking the shot glasses away because I know Spencer can get competitive and I don't want you to get sick." Garcia grabs the glasses from everyone's hand and walks to the kitchen, everyone giving a little whine about it.

"So what was that surprise you had for us?" you ask Garcia.

She walks in her room to grab something and came back with it behind her back.

"Before I say anything," she began, "I'm not forcing anyone to do anything they don't want to do and if no one wants to it's not a big deal."

Garcia takes her hands from behind her back to show what looked like vape pens. "Nicotine?" Emily asked.

"Noooo nonono," said Garcia, "That stuff is not good for anyone. They're weed...pens..." Garcia got quiet. You could understand why she got nervous, who knew if this would happen or not.

"Baby girl," said Morgan, "You are the last person I'd think of for this."

"Her parents were hippies, Morgan!" says Emily.

"Good point." He said.

"But now the question is, how?" you said.

"Well yeah, my parents were hippies. Both of my parents did before they got pregnant with me, but my dad would smoke when I was a kid. He would always do it before bed so he could actually fall asleep. He had horrible insomnia which he gave to me. A couple of months back, I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Nothing was wrong either for it to happen, but nothing could get me to fall asleep or if it did I acted the next day like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. So, I went to a doctor and got my green card and I've had peaceful nights of rest since. I thought, since we don't have to go into work for awhile, why not have some fun for one night?"

Everyone looked at each other, unsure but also kind of wanting to.

"This wouldn't be a problem with work, right?" asked Jj.

"Oh god, no, if we only do it tonight it'd be out of our system by then." said Reid.

Everyone was shocked hearing that coming from his mouth. "What? I had to do a research paper on the study of cannabis use in college."

You wanted to be the first to agree, but then you worried that it would be a bad look on you, the newbie.

"I'll give it a shot," said Emily, "It's only for one night and we have a lot more time off than we usually get, why the hell not?"

Slowly, everyone else agreed, including Spencer, who no one in the room thought in a million years he would. Garcia passes out the pens to everyone and told them how to use it. She said if we liked it, we could keep them for only certain situations where you absolutely needed it.

We all start taking 3 hits, which was the amount she said to take first. She explained how one time she took too many hits at once and greened out really bad.

Garcia turns on some music and we all sit around, drinking the very special drinks she made for us. The girls had vodka cocktails while the guys had whiskey. After a few minutes, you can start feeling it. Your body begins to tingle and your eyes started feeling heavy.

"How ya feeling, kid?" Morgan asks after several minutes. Spencer just sat there, looking at the ice cubes in his drink.

"Honestly, I've never felt this before. I don't know what I feel but it's nothing bad."

You giggle at his answer. It wasn't funny, and you knew that. Maybe you were giggling because seeing Spencer high was adorable.

"Ope, we have a giggler!" said Emily, but your giggling made everyone else giggle with you.

"Boy genius, you are too adorable!" said Garcia, who was sitting on Morgan's lap, her head on his shoulder.

You take more hits as the night goes on. At one point you had to stop because you were really baked. You've smoked before, so you knew your limit. You look over at Spencer again, but this time he was really sinked in the couch, looking up at the ceiling. What could that big brain be thinking in that now empty skull?

You were about to ask him but Garcia got up and grabbed an empty vodka bottle. "Who wants to play truth or dare?"

Everyone said they were in, except for Jj, who was already passed out in her chair.

"Damn, gone already?" Spencer says.

"You owe me five bucks tomorrow, Y/N" said Morgan. Earlier, you bet Morgan that Jj would stay up because he said she wouldn't. She tried her hardest, but sadly Morgan won. You move your head to Spencer's lap. You felt very cuddly for some reason, and Spencer was right next to you. He flinched a little, but then after a minute he started playing with your hair.

Garcia puts the empty bottle on the table and spins it. It lands on Emily. "Truth." she says.

"Have you ever made out with a girl?" asked Garcia.

"Are you kidding? Of course I have," she got quiet then murmured, "And I loved it."

"I knew it!" said Garcia.

Emily spins and it lands on Morgan. "Dare."

"I dare you to give Garcia a kiss! No making out, just a peck on the lips."

It happened, their banter had finally caught up with them. Derek and Penelope go in for the peck and once so they blushed.

Spencer was still playing with his hair. You looked up at him and saw something in his eye. Not literally, but there was something going on in his head. His eyes sparkled underneath the apartment lights. His mind must've been running all over the place thinking of something trippy, or maybe he suddenly wasn't thinking at all, letting his mind wonder to thoughts he never thought of before. The bottle was rarely spun to either of you, so you decided to talk softly.

"What are you thinking about, Spence?" you ask.

"I'm thinking about everything and nothing at once," he said, "It's hard to explain, like I'm thinking of things I wouldn't normally. Or at least not on a daily basis."

"What is tha-"

"Y/N! Truth or Dare?" said Garcia

"Umm...dare." you slurred. Were you really that fucked up right now?

Garcia thought for a moment, then as she looked at the two of you, a light bulb lit up in her head. "I dare you to take Spencer to my room, shut the door, and make out for 10 minutes!"

"10?!"

"What, are we still in high school?" you ask sarcastically.

"Be glad I didn't suggest 7 minutes in heaven. Poor boy is just so innocent!"

"Can you even get up, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asks as you lift your head from his lap and start to get up.

Spencer takes another vodka shot and a few more hits of his pen before getting up. After gaining his balance back, you take his hand and walk him to the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and goes to lay on the bed. Arms stretched out on either side of him, he went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about now?" you asked.

He said nothing. You then lay next to him, doing exactly what he was doing. Garcia had put glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling. They looked brighter than they would've have been to you. Your blurry vision made your tingles more intense as the lights played with your eyes. It was almost really trippy, but you felt so good.

"I've never felt like this before and usually we put people away because of weed, but for some reason, I feel at peace with everything.

"I'm sure if you got your green card, Hotch would be more understanding towards it. If not, Penelope would've been kicked off the team."

He placed his hand softly on your thigh. Spencer, you thought to yourself, she didn't say it was 7 minutes in heaven.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you said, "We can just ramble about anything and tell them we did."

He then gets on top of you, holding your wrists down to the bed. "No, I want to. Unless you don't want to, but this is what I've been thinking about when I was playing with your hair."

You nod your head. You knew what he meant because you were thinking the exact same thing at that same time. When you met him, you didn't think of him in that way. But once everything kicked in that night, you felt yourself slipping into that 'what if'. You thought he was cute when he was giggling at you, and the way his fingers were in your hair, it was like you'd known each other for years.

Spencer's lips were quickly on yours. It felt like heaven, like he had done this before. You kiss him back, indulging in the sweet bliss. It was your time to return the favor, as you run your fingers through his hair. You were into guys with long hair, and Spencer seemed to fit the bill. But in no way were you catching feelings for him. He'll probably not remember this night at all, so why get your hopes up when he's doing this for the dare.

Suddenly, you felt his right grip let go of your wrist and slowly began to go down your body. It made you feel heat from the bottom of your stomach. You haven't felt like this in a long time, needing for someone's touch. You felt ready though, ready for that feeling again. The feeling of letting go and go forward in lust. He stopped, however, letting you know that he was asking if you wanted to continue without breaking away from your lips. You nod and a small quiet moan left your muffled lips, letting him know it was ok.

His hand continued to go down your body, feeling every curve he could. His fingers gently graced your tits and it sent shivers up your spine. Soon enough, you felt his fingers lightly rub the fabric that stood between him and your slit. His touch was so feather like you thought he was teasing you just to get you all worked up.

"I've hardly done anything to you and you're already so wet for me." He said through the kiss. You were shocked how his tone changed from sweet and innocent to dark and low. It kind of turned you on. Somehow, you went from being dared to just make out to what felt like was going into 7 minutes in heaven, except not in a closet.

He then continued to rub the fabric is circles as he broke the kiss. With the moon being your only source of light, you see the hunger in his eyes. He wants you and he wants you bad. He smiles as he moves the fabric over to the side and sticks his middle finger inside you, making you gasp at the entrance. His grin grew bigger as he really felt how wet you really were.

He sticks another finger in there and you let out a moan that you were trying to be soft about, but you were louder than you wanted to be. Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, continuing to pleasure you. "Be quiet, angel," He whispered in your ear, "You don't want the others to know what we're doing, do you?" You shook your head. "Good girl, now tell me when you're close. I want you to cum all over my fingers."

You never thought of Spencer as the dominate type. He seemed so to himself and sweet. You thought he'd be more submissive. Maybe it was his cross faded brain talking, but this side of Spencer made you want more of him. You wanted so much more than his fingers. Your thoughts clouded you as you were reaching your climax.

"Spencer I'm close. I'm so close!" You quietly moaned.

"Hold it, angel. I want you to beg for me."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "Please let me cum, PLEASE!" You begged.

"Cum for me, angel."

At that, you felt your whole body tense up and almost screamed at the pleasure, but knew to just whisper it and breathe heavily. He laughed with a bit of a growl, feeling you on all over his fingers. He was enjoying this, and you could tell by the tent in his pants. You wondered if you were going to help him out with that as your breathing began to go back to it's normal pattern. He gets off of you as the timer went off, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting yourself.

"Ok lovebirds, time's up!" you heard Morgan say.

You sit up from the bed as Spencer sat next to you. "We'll be right out!" You said, "Holy shit, Spence. I didn't think you had this side to you."

"Everyone does," he said, "I know I pull off this small and meak kind of person, but they don't know what I think about when I'm at home. Even sometimes at work when I'm stressed on a case. I'll just give myself a breather and let my mind wonder. I even-"

He stopped himself in his tracks, taking back what he was originally going to say. He stood up, pulling you up with him. Your faces were then really close together. "Now, tonight I won't have you touch me. We'll save that for another day ok?" You nod again. "What are you going to do about 'that'?" Pointing to the tent.

"I'm gonna take care of it in the bathroom. Now, we don't tell anyone about this. Especially Garcia."

"Yeah, it'd be a bit weird if she found out that you fingered me on her bed."

"Well that, and the fact that she can't keep a secret to herself for the life of her."

"Good to know." you said.

You did as planned and walked out, going your different ways. You headed back to the living room and joined the rest of your coworkers. You sat there and took more hits and more shots, hoping to pass out. You couldn't help but want to let your thoughts wonder on its own.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #fan fiction #spencer reid fic #dr reid #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

Enumerate (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

ENUMERATE

(hey hey. this is one of my submissions for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! congrats on your milestone, lovely! i wrote this in one sitting, which i rarely ever do, but the idea was immediate and persistent so this happened. i just made some final edits, and it was a lot of fun to do and i hope you all enjoy it!)

Word Count: ~1750

Summary: You have a question for Nathan. He wants reasons. You have a secret weapon.

Warnings: Some language. Innuendo. Smooches. Nathan Bateman. No actual plot, just a thing. Hopefully decently proofread. Superheroes.

with the prompt - “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Nathan Bateman glares at you over his glasses. Or, he would if he bothered to actually turn his attention away from the monitors in front of him, which, of course, he does not.

On the other side of the room, you’re stretched out on the bed, on your stomach with your legs bent up and ankles crossed behind you, lazily flipping through a magazine.

For once it’s not a technical journal; you’d finally put your foot down a few months ago, told Nathan you’d had enough of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo he kept all over the house, and after a few pleas and a little please, he’d caved. He might make a case that, until now, these celebrity gossip rags were a worse idea, but he can’t bring himself to do it. As a thank you, you always make sure to hand him his favorite one when you’re done with it.

You briefly debate arguing that building an AI and pissing it off so much it thought it had no other recourse than to try to escape and then stab you in the chest is probably a worse idea, but you don’t want to actually fight with him. And you’re not mean.

“I don’t know, I think it would be fun,” you call back to him.

The clicking of the keyboard never stops. He gets so involved in his work sometimes - okay, all the time, if you’re being honest - that nothing else seems to matter. You knew it isn’t really true; the fact that you’re on the bed wearing nothing besides one of his old, soft henleys and a pair of wool socks proves that. The ability to occasionally engage him in actual conversation while his mind blazes through lines of code is rare.

“I’m pretty sure we have different definitions of that word.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure they more than occasionally overlap.”

He scans your voice for any hint of sarcasm, any tinge of facetiousness. When he can’t detect any and can’t determine your actual intent, his eyes narrow.

“Enumerate.”

Well, sort of actual conversation.

You toss the magazine aside and sit up on the bed.

“And for every step you take towards me, I want a good reason, not some bullshit half-answer,” he continues. Still typing away, still staring at his screens.

“How do you even know I was going to walk over there?” you mutter.

“I know your operating system, kitten,” he says, “so. Enumerate. And count those steps for me. I know you’re good at counting.” If he’d bother to look at you, you’d see the slight smirk on his face, but it doesn’t matter. You hear it in his voice. You know he’s mostly teasing you.

Then again, if Nathan bothered to turn around to look at you, he’d also see the giant, exaggerated steps you’re taking on the path to his desk. It isn’t very far from bed to desk. Nathan is nothing if not efficient, and one never knows when inspiration or insomnia will strike or you might need quick data access.

But you have a secret weapon and you are going to deploy it with as little delay as possible.

The secret weapon has never failed you before.

You roll your eyes. Smug asshole. “One. It gets us out of the house.”

“We have everything we need right here. Hardly a compelling reason. Try again.”

Another giant step. “Two. A little human interaction, other than verbally sparring with me and taking me on every imaginable surface of this house, would do you some good.”

The clicking might pause for a split second. You can’t be sure because it picks up and keeps going just as it had before, as Nathan replies, “False correlation. I hate most people, in large part because they can’t keep up with me. Not like the way you do.”

You smile, even though he can’t see you, and open your mouth to keep going, but he’s not quite done. “And, if I remember correctly, and I always remember correctly-” you swear you hear his eyebrow arch “-that other part does us both some good. You haven’t had any complaints thus far, and a few of those surfaces were actually rather un-imaginable. You gotta try harder, baby.”

Damn him.

Another step, another reason. “Three. It’s what normal people do.”

The clicking finally stops and Nathan spins around in his chair. He takes you in - one foot as far out in front of the other as possible without you falling over, arms held out awkwardly to keep your balance, wearing only his shirt and your fuzzy socks, hair still a mess from the evening’s previous activities - and gives you a pointed look. “That’s what normal people do?”

You giggle, then straighten your face. You take another step. Now you’re almost in his lap. “Four. You’d look really, really hot in some spandex and a cape.”

Nathan growls and pulls you into his lap. “I said no bullshit.”

There’s your opening. Secret weapon time.

You bite your lip and give him the widest, saddest looking eyes you possibly can. You think of lost puppies and kittens, the ending of Casablanca, that song in Coco that had you bawling. And you blink once, very slowly, just for dramatic effect. Not that you need to. Your trap is set.

Nathan groans and drops his head to your chest for a moment, and then looks back up at you, scowling under his glasses. “Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

You grin down at him. “You’re not.”

“God damn it.”

“Nathan, it will be fun,” you insist.

In response, he stands suddenly, scoops you up and tosses you back on the bed, his body caging you underneath him.

“You really want me to go to, of all the fucking things in the entire known universe, a comic con with you.” It’s not a question.

“Well, I mean, you did already buy me the tickets.”

“Beginning to regret that decision,” the resignation in his voice is strong, but you can also hear some amusement. And maybe something a little more.

You pout at him. “And my sister can’t go with me now because of some stupid emergency work thing.”

His brow furrows. “Like I don’t have actual work to do?”

“And it would be a shame to waste them…,” You blink at him a few more times.

“I’ll donate them to a children’s charity or some shit.”

You smack him lightly on the shoulder, then your arms wrap around his neck as you lean forward and whisper in his ear. “And I still say you’d look amazing in a super suit.”

“Bull. Shit,” he leans up and nips at your neck.

You smack him harder this time. “Hey, those are good reasons.”

“Will it make you happy?” he sighs.

“Yes.”

He pauses for a few minutes with his face buried in your neck, then pulls back to look at you. His stern expression cracks, ever so slightly, at the hopeful smile on your face. And those damn puppy dog eyes. “You do make a compelling argument.”

You squeal in delight, holding his face and kissing him firmly on the lips.

“But...people. A lot of people. In public,” Nathan grumbles, narrowing his eyes and giving you the fakest stern look he’s ever given you.

He knows you know he was never going to say no to you. He can’t. He may know your operating system, but his own systems fail when you run this particular subset.

And the secret weapon never fails.

You smirk back, your grin and the light in your eyes threatens to throw his brain completely offline.

“That’s where the costume comes in, Mr. Fantastic.”

Nathan scoffs. “If I have to wear a costume, it is not going to be Mr. fucking Fantastic.”

“So you’re saying you will dress up.”

“No, but...there’s better options than that.” A lie. He was serious about being seen by thousands of people in public, and at this point, he’s not above wearing a ridiculous costume just so no one actually sees him at a fucking comic con.

“Isn’t he, like, the smartest superhero though?”

He pretends to think about it for a minute, lazily tracing a finger along your jaw. “True, but. What else does he do? I mean I know I’m flexible but…”

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to not burst into a fit of laughter as you stare back into his deep eyes. “Okay, fine. What about Wonder Woman? I’d do almost anything to see you with some golden wings. And those boots? Damn, that would be hot.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a menace.”

“You haven’t had any valid complaints thus far.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, then sighs. “Almost anything, huh?” His hands have dropped down your torso, and his fingertips are gliding over your smooth skin under the hem of his shirt.

You can see the wheels start turning. Your lips purse and a smile forms. “Don’t change the subject,” you chide him. “What are your other better options, then?”

“Xavier. You could push me around for the day, it would serve you right for even asking me to do this.”

The laughter rises fully and bubbles over. “Even you’re not that lucky.”

“Or maybe Iron Man. I know I could make a working suit, and that would be pretty fucking cool,” he states, matter of fact. You’re honestly not sure if you should be amused or a little worried that he’s not kidding.

“Those are definitely better options than Mr. Fantastic,” he says softly.

You raise your head up to catch his lips, but stop just before you make contact. He makes a small noise of protest, but you just shake your head ever so slightly.

“Hmm, I’m not convinced,” you whisper, your breath fanning across his mouth. “I need some good reasons. No bullshit, Bateman.”

Nathan’s groans are silenced as you surge forth and capture his lips, kissing him fiercely and thoroughly. But his silence is only temporary, and the groans return when you pull away and hook a leg around his hip.

He stares down at you as you look back at him with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen, and you smile innocently and bite your lip. He bites his own as you softly issue one more word into the air around you.

“Enumerate.”

~end~

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ayybtch · 3 years

Text

The One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Things are going up and down for you as you try to navigate life after your breakup with Bucky. Everything leads to an accidental run-in with him at a coffee shop that leaves you and Bucky wondering if things could have been different. Based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: This is an angsty fic. The reader is actively struggling with mental illness and a breakup. There are mentions of being on antidepressants and symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, and sometimes not having the energy for personal care, but nothing in-depth.

Word Count: 11,261

A/N: I owe a very special thank you to @borkingbarnes, who has supportively been screaming at me for writing this ever since I told her this idea and gave me some brilliant suggestions during her beta read. The dividers were made by the lovely @whimsicalrogers.

“So, how have the new meds been treating you? Are they still making you nauseous after you first take them?”

You looked across the room at your therapist and shook your head, “No, they’re not making me nauseous anymore. I’ve been making sure that I’ve got food in my stomach first and not just a cup of coffee. I’ve also been better about taking them at the same time each day,” you said.

She smiled at you. “Do you feel like they’ve been helping?”

You shrugged and offered a half-smile back. Not satisfied with your answer, she continued probing. “Well, do you feel like you have more energy than on the other meds? Are you sleeping more….?” She trailed off at the end, voice hopeful.

“Oh. Yeah, I have been sleeping a little better. I’ve been sleeping closer to 5 hours each night, though it’s still taking a really long time for me to fall asleep. I’ve had more energy but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or the sleep?” You trailed off a bit at the end, unsure of if that truly answered her question.

“It could be a mix of both. I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping more though, you weren’t getting very much when you first started seeing me.” She offered you another smile before adjusting herself in her seat and continuing, “Now, what have you been doing with this extra energy? Any new hobbies, catching up with friends, going on dates, anything like that?”

You shook your head no. “I don’t have much of a friend group anymore, not since…” your voice faded before the sentence finished. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly. Pull yourself together. “I am meeting Natasha after this, actually. She and I were friends before everything and she’s the only one that’s really stuck around since. It’s been about a month since I last saw her so I’m looking forward to seeing her.” The therapist nodded and offered a sympathetic smile that made your stomach turn. You decided to continue before she chimed in.

“I’m running again too. I used to go on a nightly run before things got bad. It’s not for as long or as far as I used to but it’s better than sitting on the couch, I guess.”

She nodded and began writing on her notepad, “That’s wonderful. What do you enjoy about your runs?”

Her question was unexpected and it took you a minute to answer. “It’s peaceful. It’s one of the few times I can shut my brain off and zone out. Though, if it’s a bad day it doesn't always work.”

She nodded and paused, as if trying to carefully choose her next words. “One thing I’ve noticed whenever stuff comes up is that you always talk about ‘before’, but what about the ‘after’? Have you thought about trying to get back out there and start your ‘after’?” An uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach as she spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. Eventually, she nodded and continued to make notes.

***

The session continued for another half hour before it ended with a smile and a brief conversation with her secretary, confirming your appointment for the same time next week.

As you stepped out the door, you let out a sigh of relief. Therapy sessions were hard. Even though today’s session had been relatively mild, the process was still draining and left you feeling exhausted most days. It really helped though and making the decision to go was one of the best decisions you could have made for yourself. A smile settled on your face as you pulled your jacket tighter across your chest before beginning your walk to meet Natasha.

You had discovered soon after starting therapy that walking to and from the appointment gave you the time you needed to prepare yourself for the session and unwind after. The hustle and bustle of New York created the perfect background noise for you to organize your thoughts. Most days it helped you process the questions the therapist asked. Often, you answered them a little deeper than what you had in the session knowing that nobody would know the real answer except for you.

Guilt gnawed at you as you thought about it. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to be honest? Were you still getting as much out of it as you could if you were completely honest? You shook your head and sighed. Sometimes there were things better left unsaid.

One of the many things that had been left unsaid had to do with what you missed most about being with him. You had shrugged it off when she asked, saying it was nice having a person around because it was less lonely. While true, the full answer was more painful than you felt comfortable admitting out loud. He had understood you in ways nobody else ever had and nobody else ever would again. It gave you the freedom to be unapologetically you every second of the day. The thought of not being known like that again and having to put on a facade felt like the loneliest existence the universe had to offer. It made your chest ache.

Today though, it gave you the chance to collect your thoughts before Natasha had the opportunity to interrogate you. To be fair, it wasn’t really an interrogation. She was far too gentle when she asked you questions, though you’re sure that’s one of the many techniques she chose from. Interrogation or not though, she would be watching you like a hawk the entire meal to make sure you were actually doing as well as you were claiming.

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside Natasha’s favorite Italian restaurant. She always recommended meeting up here purely because of the breadsticks. She swore they were the best in New York and ate at least three full baskets by herself each visit. You paused before entering, suddenly nervous about how it would go. There’s nothing to worry about, Natasha isn’t going to bring him up and isn’t going to push me past my boundaries. You weren’t quite as convinced as you would have liked to be, but you couldn’t delay it any longer as you stepped inside.

A blast of warm air surrounded you as you were greeted by the hostess. It didn’t take for her to lead you back to where Natasha was sitting, a glass of wine already in her hand. A second sat waiting on the table for you.

You walked over, bending down to give her a side hug and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re late,” she said reproachfully, eyes zeroed in on yours.

“I know, I’m sorry. My session went a little over today.” You pulled out your chair and sat down before continuing, “How are you? It’s good to see you.”

Natasha smiled brightly. “I’ve been good. I’ve been really looking forward to this, I was so happy when you said yes. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” You grinned slightly and she continued. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to catch up. Work has been keeping me even busier than usual. Stark has been working on all sorts of new tech developments and has somehow recruited me for testing.”

You nodded as you took a sip of your wine, “Nothing he’s made has killed you yet. That’s impressive.”

She snorted, “He’s lucky I didn’t flat out say no. His last update to the Falcon wings sent Wilson through the ceiling and landed him in the medbay for three days with a concussion.” Natasha noticed the look of concern on your face and waved her hand as she sipped on her wine. “He’s fine, don’t worry. All of the Avengers men have skulls harder than concrete.” The two of you burst into laughter at the thought.

A waiter arrived as your laughter died down to take your orders and to refill Natasha’s wine glass. You both thanked him as he turned to walk away. A quiet settled over the table and Natasha’s gaze landed firmly on you.

“So how have you been?” she asked softly, voice far gentler than anyone would expect from a former assassin. You shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“Some days are better than others,” you said, “Overall things are better than they’ve been for a while now though. My shrink has me on some new meds that seem to be helping and I’ve been working harder on doing little things to take care of myself every day, not just the good days.”

Natasha nodded, eyes still fixed on you. Slowly, she reached a hand out across the table and placed it on top of yours. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You can call me any time of day and as long as I’m not on a mission, I can be at your apartment within the hour.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words. You nodded quickly, eyes blinking fast to try and keep the tears that were welling up from falling. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Now where the hell are our breadsticks? This is going to be a failed meal if I have less than twelve in me before the main dish arrives.” Her words made you burst out laughing once again and succeeded in putting a smile on your face for the remainder of the meal.

***

“Are you sure I can’t drive you back to your apartment?” Natasha asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. You nodded at her and smiled.

“I enjoy walking, it clears my mind,” you said. She let out a disapproving hum but didn’t argue further. She pulled you into a bone-crushing hug before turning and walking towards where her car was parked. You watched as she stepped in and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot. You stood and watched until her car was out of sight before turning to start the walk home.

As it was on the walk to the restaurant, the busy streets provided the perfect background noise needed for you to quiet your mind. You focused on your breathing, allowing yourself to try and channel any residual nervous energy outward. With each breath, the faces passing by began to blur. Neon signs hanging in the windows of the shops you passed by became nothing more than a gentle glow in your peripheral. With each step you took, the background seamlessly blended together more and your focus on yourself heightened. A sense of calm settled itself in your chest. The feeling grew stronger with each block you passed until a small smile made its way onto your face. That feeling ended abruptly as you turned around the next block.

There was a large crowd waiting at the bus stop, but your eyes focused on one man. You stared at his silhouette, panic building with each second. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and your feet had magically turned into cinder blocks. Is that...? No, it couldn’t be…

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, the man turned slightly so you could see his face, and a sigh of relief left you. You stood there a moment longer to examine his side profile. It wasn’t him; he just happened to look like him. He was about the same height and weight, with similar chocolate waves. Your eyes landed on his light brown leather jacket and a lump formed in your throat. He had worn a similar jacket the day you met. It felt like being thrown back in time as you continued to stare at the man in front of you.

Natasha drug you through a hallway, not caring about your protests to slow down. “I have someone I want you to meet.” She smirked as she spoke, leaving you to wonder what she was plotting.

A group of choices greeted the two of you as you entered the room. You waved at Steve and Sharon sitting on the couch as Natasha continued to pull you across the room to where two men were standing. One of the men was Sam, whom you had met the last time Natasha brought you to the compound. The other was Bucky Barnes. You hadn’t met him before but you knew who he was. It was impossible not to given how public everything about Hydra had become.

“Barnes, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Natasha said, turning slightly towards you.

Bucky turned to look at you, offering a charming smile as he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, hoping to god you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. The pictures of him floating around on the news did not do him justice. Bucky was absolutely breathtaking. His smile lit up his eyes in a way no camera could ever hope to capture. His hair was cropped just above his shoulders, falling into a beautiful wavy pattern. You realized you were staring and felt your face get hot.

“Uh, I like your jacket,” you mumbled, hoping he hadn’t realized you were staring. The leather jacket was a beautiful light brown. It looked old, but well loved at the same time.

He smiled widely at you, “Thanks! Leather jackets are kind of my thing. Sam here thinks I have too many but there’s no such thing as too many leather jackets, wouldn’t you agree?”

As the memory floated away, you couldn’t help but think how Bucky probably would’ve gone up to the man to ask about his jacket. You chuckled at the thought. As soon as he walked away, he would’ve immediately started looking up where he could find one for his own closet. It didn’t matter how many leather jackets he had. He always wanted more.

The chuckle died on your lips and was replaced by an uncomfortable knot settling in your stomach. A heavy weight fell on your chest and you forced yourself to find the energy to trudge forward.

The remainder of the walk was a blur, but not in the same way it had been before. This wasn’t the good kind of blur that helped you to focus. It was the kind that left you feeling suffocated and as if everything would come crashing down all at once. That had been the first happy thought about Bucky since the two of you broke up. His presence in your thoughts was so strong, he might as well have been walking right next to you. You could practically feel his knuckles brushing against yours with each step you took. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could smell his cologne.

The harsh reality of how alone you were hit you as the greeting from your apartment’s doorman pulled you from your thoughts. You shot him a small smile before rushing inside and all but sprinting up the stairs. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door to your apartment, though you couldn't tell if it was from your thoughts of Bucky or from the sudden burst of energy that left you slightly winded.

Once inside, you rushed to your bedroom and changed into the first sports bra and pair of leggings you saw. You needed to get Bucky off your mind and the only way you knew how was to run. It was going to be a long run tonight.

The doorman waved at you again as you exited the building, surprised to see you again so soon. “Someone is feeling motivated today I see,” he joked. You shrugged and slowly began to jog.

***

It took a while to get into your groove, but once you were there you felt good. The movement helped settle the anxious energy that had been building since you had seen the man at the bus stop, while the steady breathing brought your focus back to the here and now just like it had before. That’s something else to mention if she asks about my runs again, you thought. These runs bring my focus to this exact moment in time.

That thought was lost as you passed a small, hole in the wall theater. Small groups were exiting the building, each talking excitedly amongst themselves about the movie that had just finished. The nauseous feeling from earlier came back as memories resurfaced. That was Bucky’s favorite movie theater. Every Sunday they played movies from the 1920s and 1930s. He used to drag you along with him whenever he saw one he remembered from his childhood. Each time he swore up and down that you were about to experience a cinematic masterpiece like no other and that it would change the way you looked at movies. You always rolled your eyes as he said it, but the magic you felt in that theater with him was like no other.

Movies made back then were so different from the movies made now. The characters felt so much more real. They were allowed to be people. Their faults and flaws didn’t take away from the good things about them. These films never failed to make you feel all of the emotions you were meant to feel and each time you exited the theater, you couldn’t help but wish you could’ve remained in that little bubble just a few minutes longer. Those bittersweet feelings about the ending never lasted long though, as Bucky would wrap his arm around your shoulder and proceed to talk your ear off about the movie until you made it home.

“You know Doll, the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said, smiling down at you.

You just laughed and shook your head.“Bucky that makes absolutely no sense.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, making you laugh again. “Think about it though, how many movies haven’t been made because someone decided they weren’t good enough for the big screen? How many stories have been brought into existence but never been told to another living soul?”

A car horn brought you back into reality. Bitterness crept into your chest as you processed the memory that had just played out picture-perfect in your mind. Those afternoons with him in the theater had been some of the best afternoons of your life. Even if you weren’t crazy about the movie, Bucky’s sheer excitement about it was enough to convince you of how wonderful it truly was. If only he had felt that same amount of joy in other areas of your relationship.

Your bitterness slowly began to turn to anger as you thought about the last few months of being with Bucky. Sunday matinees had stopped being a regular thing as Bucky’s work schedule picked up until they stopped happening entirely. His new position training new SHIELD agents and prospective new members to the Avenger ate away at his time. All of his time. It got to the point Bucky never stopped working. Even at home, his thoughts were on paperwork to be filed, training to be planned, or meetings to be run. You’d be sitting on the couch next to him trying to talk only to receive disinterested “hmms” or the occasional “That’s nice honey.”

You tried bringing it up to no avail. He always brushed it off and said things would calm down eventually and that he just needed you to hold out a bit longer. He never outright said his work was more important to him but the implication was there and you felt the weight of it every single day. You bit your tongue and played along for a while, but after several months of hearing the same excuses, you finally snapped. Unfortunately, so did Bucky.

“All you ever do is work. I can’t remember the last time we went and did something together. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time you cared enough to even ask me about my day. It’s like you don’t even want me around anymore,” you hissed, glaring at Bucky.

“Excuse me for caring about my fucking job. One of us has to if we’re going to continue affording this place,” he scoffed.

Ice filled your veins as you stared at him, fist clenched at your side. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, we both know you’re barely getting your work done on time. You lay here on the couch all day watching TV. You’re lucky you’re allowed to work from home because you look like a walking disaster half the time. You’ve stopped wearing clean clothes, you hardly shower, you hardly eat, and you hardly sleep. Face it, you’re depressed.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

You furiously blinked back tears that were trying to well up as you processed his words. “First of all, I am not depressed,” you muttered, “Second, if I’m such a walking disaster then what are you even still doing here?”

“I am still here because I care about you. I have lost track of how many times I have asked you to get help. I’ve been where you are, I know what you’re going through and I know what it takes to come back from it. If you never bleed, you’re never going to grow. If you can’t move past this, then we -” he paused to motion between the two of you “- can’t move past this.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. There was no malice in them, but there was also none of the kindness or warmth you wished for. His gaze just felt indifferent.

You remained silent as you tried to find words. Bucky continued watching you, waiting expectantly for a response. A response never came, however, and he let out a loud sigh.

“If you don’t have anything to say to that, then I think we’re done here. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I love you, but neither of us is happy. I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need,” Without another word, Bucky grabbed his coat and walked out the front door of the apartment.

That was the last time that you saw Bucky. He had sent you a text a few days later asking when a good time to come pick up his stuff would be. You responded begrudgingly, telling yourself that the sooner his stuff was gone the sooner your life could get back to normal. When the day came, you forced yourself to get out of the apartment. The thought of seeing him after what went down between you left you seeing red. When you finally went back after he left, you felt none of the happy emotions you had convinced yourself you would feel.

Instead, you felt the empty spots in the room. Every missing item you noticed felt like a blow to the stomach and caused fresh tears to well up in your eyes. Pictures were no longer hanging from the walls; random gaps were in the bookshelves; his leather jacket was no longer slung across the back of the chair he loved in the living room. You stumbled back to your room with your eyes closed, refusing to see what other memories had been ripped from their rightful homes. Once there, you collapsed on the bed and laid there for two days. It wasn’t until Natasha broke into your apartment to check on you after countless missed calls and ignored texts that you finally moved from that spot.

For the millionth time that day, your stomach twisted as thoughts of Bucky floated around in your head. Despite it all, you regretted not being there when he came to get his things. There was never a proper goodbye between you and the thought drove you mad sometimes. Maybe if I had been there, we could’ve worked this out. You scoffed at the thought, but couldn’t deny the heaviness lingering in your chest.

At times you considered reaching out to him, wondering if he would be willing to give you the closure you so desperately needed. Even if it was just over text, it might be better than the nothing you currently had. You still had his number. The two of you even still followed each other on social media. He liked what few posts you made, but you had never been able to bring yourself to look at the stuff he posted. The lines of communication were there, you just had to use them. But communication is a two-way street; if he wanted to talk to you, he’d reach out. Right? That thought had kept you from texting him more times than you could possibly count.

Questions about what could have happened that day swirled throughout your head as your feet pounded against the pavement. Could you have fixed things, or would it still have ended in breaking up? Could you have agreed to still be friends? Would you have at least been able to say goodbye, or would he have walked silently out the door again?

The thoughts continued to plague you until the ache in your legs was too strong to take another step. Out of breath, you looked around at where you stopped trying to figure out how far you had run. It wasn’t until you noticed the fountain about a dozen feet behind you that you realized where you were.

Tony had once rented out a plaza nearby for a 1920s themed fundraiser gala the first year you and Bucky were dating. The gala was the first public event you ever attended with him, though it certainly hadn’t been your last. Natasha had taken you shopping and helped you find a flapper-style dress leading up to it. The two of you did your hair and makeup together, giggling about how you felt like you were getting ready for a high school dance. When you stepped out of the room with Natasha, Bucky wasn’t able to speak. He spent the whole night staring at you like a lovestruck teenager, only to turn bright red whenever someone mentioned it.

Towards the end of the night, you and Bucky had drunkenly stumbled out of the plaza to escape the crowd and found your way over to this fountain. Rather, you had stumbled out drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t affected by human alcohol and hardly had any of the Asgardian mead Thor had so generously brought. While he was a little more cheery than usual, he wasn’t intoxicated enough to even pretend like he was tipsy.

A giggle left your lips as you stumbled forward. “Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.”

Bucky laughed at you and picked you up, carrying you bridal style. He spun around slowly as he searched for somewhere he could set you down. His eyes eventually settled on the fountain and began walking towards it. He carefully set you down before sitting down next to you. His eyes were fixed on you as you took off your shoes, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you did. You smiled over at him, before turning around to stare at the fountain in wonder. A giggle left your lips as you pulled up your dress and began walking around in the fountain.

You laughed any time you went through a jet of water. The temperature difference was soothing against your skin and almost left a tickling sensation as you passed. Eventually, you arrived back at where he was sitting and the smile on his face filled your stomach with butterflies. You bent down slightly to press your lips against his, your hands making their way through his hair. His hands landed on your hips and pulled you closer to him. You felt dizzy as he held you, though you weren’t sure if it was him or the glasses of champagne. You pulled away abruptly as an idea struck you, leading to Bucky’s eyes opening in confusion. His gaze fell upon the mischievous look you wore and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he managed to make a sound, your hands left his hair and were reaching down to splash water onto him.

He tried to catch your hands to stop you, but you stepped back just out of reach, but not far enough you couldn’t keep splashing him. Without a word, he reached down to take off his shoes and socks. A gasp left you as he stepped into the fountain and you rushed to hide behind the fountain’s centerpiece. He chased after you, hands eventually catching your waist and spinning you around to face him. He stared down at you, wonder and adoration written on his face. He slowly leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

The dizzy feeling from before came back, though this time you could say with absolute certainty it was because of the man standing in front of you. His lips were so soft against yours, yet still carried such a force they left you breathless. Fireworks had nothing on how he made you feel. No words could ever hope to describe the love and adoration bursting in your chest.

This time, he was the one to pull back first. He moved his lips up slightly, pressing a kiss to your nose and your forehead before leaning his head against yours. “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and the two of you began to slow dance in the fountain. You don’t know how long you were in the fountain dancing; it felt like eternity paused to give you and your love all the time the universe had to give so you could enjoy this moment a little longer. The only sensations tying you to reality were Bucky’s warmth and the cool water moving at your feet as Bucky spun you around. You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “We should make a wish,” you said.

Bucky looked at you with confusion. “A wish?”

You nodded, a small smile filling your face, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

The laugh that left his lips made your heart flutter. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he paused to laugh again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.” One of his hands left yours and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened it and pulled out two pennies and handed one to you. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

You stared down at the penny in your hand, wondering what wish could possibly be better than the night you were currently having with Bucky. The wish hit you suddenly, a smile breaking out on your face. You pressed your lips to the penny and wished with all your might, ‘I wish for us to have more moments like this together, from now through the rest of our days”. You opened your eyes and tossed the penny outward. Bucky’s coin was soon nestled safely at the bottom of the fountain with yours.

“What did you wish for?” he asked, pulling you back into his arms to continue dancing.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he spun you. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

Bucky chuckled, “Me too honey, me too.”

Your eyes came back into focus and a quiet sob left you. You stood in front of the fountain and cried into your hands, cursing all of the emotions you felt. That night had left you convinced that Bucky Barnes was the one. You had fallen asleep dreaming of dancing like that with him at your wedding. But now? Now all you wanted to do was scream. You wanted to scream at him, at yourself, and at the universe for being cruel enough to lead you back to this fountain without him at your side.

As the tears began to slow, a new kind of weight settled in your chest. He really could have been the one. He could have been everything you dreamed of and more, but there was nothing you could do to go back in time to change things. He decided to walk out that door and leave you with nothing more than an empty space in your heart, one to match the empty spaces he left in your apartment.

The questions the therapist had asked you started ringing through your ears as you continued to stare blankly at the fountain. What about the ‘after’? Maybe she had a point bringing it up today. You were still stuck in the ‘before’. Maybe it was finally time to start moving on. Missing items could be replaced; missing love could be given by someone else. All you had to do was make the decision to take your first steps into the ‘after’.

Your feet remained glued in place as you tried to make sense of it all.

You were confused as to where you were. Looking around, nothing seemed familiar. It wasn’t until a familiar silhouette caught your attention that you realized where you were. Bucky stood at the top of the mountain, staring down at the canyon below. Green trees and bushes lined the ground and the air was filled with the sound of birds chirping. The view was beautiful, but you couldn’t stop staring at Bucky. He looked the same, yet something felt different. Bucky seemed calmer than you had seen him in years, almost as if all of his stress had faded away. His body language was relaxed and he seemed to be in no rush to leave where he was.

Suddenly, the once green mountain top was now covered in a blanket of snow. Bucky was now wearing a thick winter coat and was strapping his feet onto a snowboard. He soon had his helmet and goggles on and began his descent down the mountain. It felt like you were flying along with him as you watched him expertly weave his way through the trees. The ease at which he moved confused you. Since when did Bucky know how to snowboard? He expressed wanting to try but never had while you were together. Confusion clouded your mind until Bucky reached the bottom of the mountain and came to a halt. He removed his helmet and a look of pure exhilaration filled his face. His excitement made your heart burst. As you reached out to try and touch him, the scene changed once again.

This time you were in the middle of the ocean. The vast expanse of blue was the only visible thing in sight other than Bucky. He was in full scuba gear, just floating there waiting. He was so still that if it weren't for the stream of bubbles that came with each exhale, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was breathing. Out of nowhere, a shape appeared in the distance. As it got closer, you felt your stomach drop. A large shark swam slowly towards Bucky. You rolled your eyes at the realization. Of course, he would go swimming with sharks with no safety cage. That idiot had no respect for your nerves or your -

You were woken up abruptly by the sound of your phone ringing. You groaned and cursed yourself for it somehow not being on silent. In your confused state, you reached out and slowly felt around on the top of your nightstand trying to find your phone. Once you found it, you tilted the screen so you could see who was calling. A beautiful picture of Natasha filled your screen and you sighed. Only Natasha could call randomly and happen to wake you up from a dream about Bucky. You pressed the answer button and begrudgingly brought the phone to your ear.

“Morning, you better have a good reason for waking me up,” you mumbled, letting out a yawn as you finished speaking.

“It’s past noon, you know. Most decent people are already up by now,” You could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

“Shut up. It’s still morning if I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. What do you want? I was having a nice dream.”

Your gruff response got a laugh from Natasha. “Well I was calling to see how your Tinder date went last night, but now I’m wondering if I should be asking what you were dreaming about that has you being this testy,” she teased.

You rubbed your eyes and groaned, “The dream was nothing special, I’m just mad you woke me up. The Tinder date was also nothing to write home about. The guy was awful. He started off super charming like they always do, but he got snappy with our waitress and then tried to get snappy with me when I called him out on it. I paid for my half of the bill and left as quickly as I could.”

“Ugh, gross. Men are actually the worst,” Natasha said. You hummed in agreement and she continued, “So are you ready for me to start setting you up, or are you going to keep giving these Tinder people a try?”

You sighed and paused for a moment to think. “Nat, I know you’re trying to help but the only people you have that you can set me up with are all SHIELD employees. I don’t see it ending well if I go down that path given my prior dating history.”

A scoff came through the phone. “He’s dating again too, so he has no right to be pissy about anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, he was also the one who ended it so he doubly has no right to be upset.”

You sat up straight as she spoke, your stomach dropping at the thought. “He’s dating again?” Your voice sounded small, smaller than it had in ages.

This time it was Natasha’s turn to pause before responding. “Yes. He’s taken a few of the receptionists here out on coffee dates, but nothing seems to be sticking. If Wilson is to be believed, he’s also on Tinder. I can’t imagine that’s working out very well for him either though.”

You felt nauseous, but you forced yourself to pause to recenter your thoughts. Of course he would be dating again. It’s been almost a year since you broke up. If you’re dating again, it only makes sense that he is as well. He deserves to be happy too. A heavy sigh left you, “Well, I hope he’s having better luck than I am.”

***

You were on the phone with Natasha for another twenty minutes before she had to go. It felt nice catching up with her, and the two of you made plans for another lunch get together later in the week. The conversation had quickly transitioned away from dating, but the fact Bucky was dating again lingered in the back of your mind for the entirety of the call.

You had been on Tinder for a while now, but somehow it never occurred to you that he might be too. How does a superhero just casually join the worst dating app in existence? Do people actually believe it’s him when they come across his profile? You couldn’t help but snort at the thought. Conversations on dating apps sucked enough as it is, but having to try and prove you’re who you say you are the way Bucky must have to certainly would make it that much less enjoyable.

Almost as if it knew you were thinking about it, a Tinder notification popped up on your lock screen. You opened up the app and saw two new messages from someone you had matched with. You typed out a response and then proceeded to scroll through the list of other potential matches. Most of the profiles you looked at were immediate no’s, but there were a few you swiped right on. It never ceased to amaze you how bad the men on this app were at smiling in pictures. Most of them had only a slight grin in one or two pictures. Any profile with a man properly smiling almost always got a swipe right. The only other type of picture that had that sort of response was for cute cats and dogs.

You continued to swipe, pausing occasionally to respond to a message. Out of nowhere, a familiar pair of blue eyes started staring up at you, causing you to nearly drop your phone in surprise. Of course the day you find out Bucky is on Tinder is the day you come across his profile. You quickly took a screenshot before swiping left and exiting out of the app. You sent the screenshot to Natasha. She responded almost immediately, Guess Wilson was telling the truth 🙄

You laughed at her response as you got out of bed, ready to finally start your day.

***

A sigh of relief left you as you collapsed on your couch after spending most of the afternoon running errands. It hadn’t been anything too bad, but that didn’t stop you from being thankful it was over. You laid there for a few minutes, just enjoying the stillness and the comfort of being on your couch. Once settled, you reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the glass of wine you had poured, and opened up your phone.

You opened up Snapchat and responded to the few snaps you had from Natasha and other friends before opening up Instagram. You mindlessly watched people’s stories, skipping through any of the ones that didn’t interest you. You paused however on Bucky’s.

He was standing next to a beautiful woman, each of them holding a painting in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Both of them had smiles that filled their faces. You stared at the picture, unsure of what you should be feeling. On one hand, it was nice seeing him so relaxed and happy. His posture reminded you eerily of how he looked in your dream. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of bitterness. You had practically begged him to go with you to a wine and paint night while you were together. He always used work as an excuse, either he was too tired from work or he had too much work left to do. You stared at the picture for a minute longer, wondering if they’d be going home together or parting ways for the night. You sighed, shaking your head at your own stupidity before continuing to scroll.

The wind blew violently around you as you struggled to make your way up the street. The weather turned unexpectedly as you were out on your run, so you rushed towards the closest coffee shop hoping to wait out the weather and avoid having to pay for a cab back home. The barista greeted you as you stepped inside and you offered her a smile.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

You stared up at the menu, considering your options. “One large hazelnut latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”

She entered everything into the computer and you held out your card for her. Once your payment was processed, you turned to find a seat. The coffee shop was crowded, no doubt due to the bad weather driving people indoors. You looked around unsuccessfully and had almost resigned yourself to standing when a familiar voice called out.

You jumped at the sound. You turned around and made eye contact with Bucky Barnes for the first time since he walked out your front door. He was sitting there grinning ear to ear, almost as if he was genuinely happy to see you. The thought made your heart burst and it was impossible to hold back an equally big smile.

“Hey Bucky, how’s it going?”

“It’s going really well! Thanks for asking,” he paused and looked around before continuing, “Do you want to sit down? There’s not a lot of seating left and it’s just me here.” His hand gestured towards the empty seat across from him as he spoke.

You paused, unsure of if you should take it or continue to look elsewhere. You looked around the room for an empty seat but didn’t see any. Well, I guess we’re doing this. You stepped forward and mumbled out a thanks as you sat down.

“I’m kind of surprised to see you here if I’m honest. I didn’t think you came to this part of the city very often,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I generally don’t. The weather took a bit of a nasty turn while I was out on my run. I stepped in hoping that by the time I’m ready to leave it’ll have calmed down.”

Another smile broke out across his face as you spoke. “You’re running again? That’s awesome.” He sounded sincere as he spoke which made you smile back.

You nodded, but before you could respond the barista arrived with your coffee and cinnamon roll. You thanked her and took a long sip of your coffee, enjoying the warmth you felt as you did. An awkward silence filled the air as both of you tried to size the other up. You decided to break the silence.

“So, what’s new with you?”

***

An hour later, the two of you were still chatting away happily at the table. Once the conversation started, it didn’t stop. Everything felt like it had at the start of your relationship: easy, comfortable, and filled with excitement. The only pauses that occurred were when the barista refilled both of your coffees and brought Bucky a cinnamon roll, which he ordered after you spent five minutes going on about how incredible it was.

One of the things you had forgotten about being around Bucky was the warmth he exuded. Even on his worst days, he had the unwavering ability to make the room feel safe. You couldn’t ever quite pin down whether it had to do with his cologne being a comforting smell or if that’s just who he was. All you knew is that he always left you aching to lean into his chest and stay there until you absolutely couldn’t. Needless to say, today it left you feeling quite confused given everything that had happened between you.

The thoughts you had several months ago about getting closure were brought back to the forefront of your mind. How had things gotten so bad between you? How had both of you let this wonderful thing fall to pieces without even one final attempt at holding it together? Each little pause in the conversation as you transitioned between topics left you aching to ask all of the questions you had. Everything was so easy and so smooth between you today that you almost felt hope that things were salvageable between you. Maybe, just maybe, your fountain wish could still come true. As you were finally working up the courage to ask, his next sentence knocked all other thoughts out of your head.

“Did you hear that Steve and Sharon are finally engaged? Took that meathead long enough to ask.”

A gasp left your mouth, “No way! It’s about freaking time. Have they picked a date yet?”

He nodded. “First weekend in June. Sharon’s already picked their wedding colors too; sage green and rose gold. She explicitly said she picked rose gold because she wants to serve that rosé champagne you introduced her to. It’s still her favorite to this day.”

A bittersweet smile made its way onto your face as you thought about what he said. You had brought two bottles of that sparking rosé to a dinner Sharon hosted once, back when she and Steve were still circling around their feelings for each other. Sharon had barely taken her first sip before asking you for details on where you bought it. Ever since, Sharon always had a bottle in her fridge. Her friendship was the one you missed the most after the breakup. There had been a few half-hearted attempts from both of you to reach out, but each time her responses felt forced. Eventually you stopped trying.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful wedding. They deserve it,” you said. A chuckle left your lips as a new thought entered your head. “How on Earth is Steve going to choose between you and Sam for best man?”

Bucky joined in on your laughter, making your stomach do summersault after summersault. “Sam and I were actually wondering the same thing, but apparently they’ve decided to not do a bridal party. That makes things easy for me though. I get to kick back and enjoy the wedding knowing I have no responsibilities.”

The idea of Bucky having a blast at a wedding made you smile. The smile faded slightly as you realized this meant Bucky was now going to need a date for this wedding. Images of him in a fancy suit, twirling another woman around the way he had in the fountain with you flashed before your eyes. You felt your heart breaking all over again at the thought of how it could’ve been you if you hadn’t fucked it all up. How stupid could you have been thinking the two of you could talk things out after all this time. He’s probably already planning on asking that girl from the wine and paint night to go with him. She had appeared on his social media several times since that night and each time it made your chest ache a little more. Bucky’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You tried smiling but felt yourself falter and knew he noticed it too. “Yeah, just caught up in my thoughts.” You needed to get out of here and fast. Conveniently, your phone screen lit up and you were able to fake gasp at the time. “Oh my god, look how late it is. I really should get going.”

Bucky stared at you, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in the atmosphere. You stood and rushed to collect your things.

“It was really nice seeing you again Bucky,” you said, offering him a half-smile as you take your first steps away from the table. He nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“It really was. Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep too much optimism from creeping into his voice.

Your eyes went wide with surprise, but you slowly nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

The same awkward silence from before filled the air, only this time neither of you seemed to know how to break it. You offered a small wave and made your way out the door, refusing to turn around and hug him despite how strongly your body was screaming at you to do so.

Bucky stood there staring after you until you were out of sight. A sigh left him after you rounded a corner and he began to collect his things.

***

Bucky had made his way back to the Avengers compound with relative ease, though his mind was still stuck back at the coffee shop with you. He had nearly choked on his coffee when he saw you walk in and hardly realized what he was doing when he called out to you. His mind had started screaming at him from the second he offered you a seat and apparently had yet to find a good enough reason to stop. Talking to you had been magical. He had forgotten how well the two of you meshed once a conversation was started. Nobody else had ever been able to keep up with his constant jumping between topics, not even Sam and Steve. You never made him feel bad for his quick transitions; you just understood and accepted that was the way his mind worked. Even after all that time, you took it all in stride.

An unexpected slam of a cabinet door caught his attention as he made his way through the communal kitchen. Sam was standing there, unloading dishes from the dishwasher. Bucky greeted the man with a gentle nod of the head as he pulled out one of the barstools to sit.

“That was a long coffee shop visit, you run into a cute girl there?” Sam teased, smirk playing across his face.

“I ran into her.”

Sam’s motions paused as he processed Bucky’s words. He looked up at his friend, who was conveniently not meeting his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Her as in…?”

Bucky nodded and Sam let out a slow puff of air. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked cautiously.

It took a few minutes for Bucky to find the words. “You know Sammy, I actually don’t know. There are too many contradictory feelings in my head to pinpoint just one.” He finally looked up and met Sam’s eyes.

Sam motioned for him to continue.

“It was so nice to see her again and talk to her. It made me feel like things were back when we were both still head over heels in love with each other. She’s doing so well. She’s made huge progress mentally, she’s been given a promotion at work, she’s just out there living her life. It made me so happy to see...

“But the happier I got sitting there talking to her, the angrier I got with myself for being such an ass while I was with her. Who has a woman like that in their life and chooses to ignore her for work? What kind of jerk does that?” He paused for a moment, staring down at his feet before continuing.

“There was a moment where she looked at me and I looked at her and I just knew we were both wondering where the hell we went so wrong. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly, but decided against it and just...got up and left. I kinda deserved it though-” he let out a dark chuckle, “- it’s what I did to her after all.”

Sam had continued unloading the dishes as Bucky spoke, trying to keep things casual while he got everything off his chest. Once Sam knew Bucky was done, he paused and rested both hands on the counter to give his friend his full attention.

“Yeah, you were an ass who put work first. She was a great girl who loved you unconditionally. You let her down and yourself down too. But she also had her issues that contributed to what happened. It’s not all on you.” Sam shot a reassuring smile at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, knowing Sam was right. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his head in his hands though as more thoughts swirled around in his head. “I can’t help but think about how my actions probably worsened things for her though, you know? She was depressed for a while before I started acting that way, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. And just...I walked out on her. I walked out and didn’t even give her a proper goodbye.”

Sam stood still and nodded along. “You did, but what you’re forgetting is that you also did because it was also the best thing for you at the time. Both of you were unhappy with who the other was becoming at that time. Sometimes breaking up is the best route to take and they don’t always end with a clear-cut goodbye. You guys may have missed out on some closure, but if today went as well as you said it did, maybe you’ve got a different kind of closure coming down the pipe.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at his friend. “What do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed softly, “Man, what did your dumb ass do with girls before I came along?” He continued laughing for a moment before resuming, “What I’m getting at is that if today went as well as you think before the awkward ending, what if there’s a possibility of reconciling? Even if it’s not in a romantic sense, you could always try and be friends.”

For a moment, Bucky’s heart surged. Maybe Sam was right, maybe things could be fixed. He knew things were going well before you got up to leave, maybe he could try and make things right.

Then, the memory of how uneasy and uncomfortable you looked at the end of the conversation replayed in his mind. He felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. You didn’t want him back. He had his chance today and he blew it.

He shook his head slowly and whispered, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sammy.”

***

Sam eventually let the topic drop and Bucky was free to make his way back to his rooms. A familiar meow rang out from across the room and was soon followed by the sound of excited footsteps rushing towards him. Alpine rubbed himself against Bucky’s legs, meowing expectantly. He chuckled and crouched down to rub Alpine’s ears.

“Hey there buddy, did you miss me?”

Alpine meowed, almost as if to say yes. Bucky smiled and picked up the cat before standing up. He made his way to his bedroom and let Alpine jump down onto the bed once they were close enough. His boots were kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed before he climbed into bed. Alpine came and curled up under one of his arms, purring slightly as he did. A sigh left him as he mindlessly pet the cat and adjusted his position until he was comfortable.

Bucky’s thoughts turned back to you almost immediately. His heart ached as he began to relive the night he knew he had fallen in love with you. How he wished he could go back in time and experience it all over again.

“So, Stark is holding a fundraiser in about three weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Bucky asked.

The smile on your face made his heart flutter. “Of course! What’s the dress code?” you asked. “I’m not sure if I have anything fancy enough to wear to a Stark gala.”

“It’s a 1920s theme. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that though, considering I was barely old enough to remember the first half of the decade.”

A teasing smile broke out across your face as he spoke. “So what you're telling me is the oldest man in the room somehow still isn’t old enough to remember the roaring twenties? Tsk tsk,” Your teasing tone made him laugh and lean over to kiss you.

“I’ll have you know young lady -” he paused to place kisses all over your face “- this is a completely unacceptable thing to say. Don’t you know you should respect your elders?” You continued to giggle as he continued to kiss you.

***

On the day of the gala, you were whisked away early in the day by Natasha. She claimed the whole day was needed to properly prepare, which left Bucky standing there rolling his eyes. But when you finally stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the compound, Bucky felt his heart stop. You looked ethereal. The flapper style dress you were wearing fit you perfectly, your hair was elegantly framing your face, and your lips were painted the most perfect shade of red he had ever seen. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you the entire night.

By the end of the night, the champagne finally had gone to your head and you were desperate to leave. You grabbed his hand giggling, rushing as quickly as you could out of the reserved plaza. You stumbled a few times over the uneven cobblestones, so he kept a hand on your waist just in case.

“Bucky, I need to find somewhere to sit down. I need to take off my heels.” you giggled as you spoke, making his heart flutter for the millionth time that night. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and slowly spun around as he searched for somewhere you could sit.

His eyes landed on a large fountain a short distance away and he began walking towards it. You settled comfortably into his arms, with one hand sneaking under his tux jacket and gripping gently onto his shirt just over his heart. Bucky wondered if you could tell it was about ready to beat out of his chest as he leaned slightly to set you down on the fountain’s edge. He had hardly sat down next to you before your heels were kicked off. It was amazing how much more relaxed you looked just from doing that.

He was so focused on how beautiful you looked he almost didn’t hear you giggle or realize what you were about to do. His jaw dropped slightly as you stood in front of him in the fountain, dress pulled up slightly as you waded in.

Bucky’s eyes never left you as you walked around, letting out the cutest laughs with each stream of water that you walked under. When you arrived back at where he was sitting and his whole world stopped as you bent forward to press your sweet lips against his. Your hands found their way to his hair as his made their way to your hips. With every ounce of his being, he wished his hands could make their home. They belonged there, allowing him to hold you so tightly against him it was almost impossible to tell where his body stopped and yours began.

It startled him when you pulled away suddenly, but the confusion didn’t last long as he was met with a handful of water and mischievous laughter. The splashing was relentless. You refused to stop despite him begging for you to quit it. He rushed to remove his shoes and socks so he could jump into the fountain with you. The excited squeal that left your mouth as you started rushing through the water trying to escape him made him grin. He was going to catch you and you knew it. That didn’t stop you from trying to delay the inevitable though. You tried to hide behind the fountain's centerpiece and to fake which direction you were going to run. When you decided to leave the safety of the centerpiece, he had you back in his arms facing him within seconds.

As he watched your face, the overwhelming urge to confess the extent of his feelings filled his chest. He loved you. He had known for weeks now, but staring at your beautiful face reaffirmed it so deeply in his soul that it felt like an integral part of who he was now. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words failed him. Instead, he leaned forward and he channeled everything he had into a kiss. He wanted this to be the kind of kiss written about in fairytales; one that leaves audiences tearing up over and longing for. He hoped you felt everything he didn’t have the courage to say tonight and the small voice in his head hoped you felt the same.

He felt you smile into the kiss, making his heart swell. He pulled away gently after a moment, staying close enough to press kisses across your face. You had told him once how special you felt when he did it; now he couldn't stop doing it. He needed you to know how special you were to him, how loved you were in his arms. When he was satisfied, he rested his forehead against yours. An idea struck him and he smiled at you, “Would you like to dance?”

You nodded and he began to lead you in a slow dance throughout the fountain. He had never felt more grateful for the dancing experience he gained in his youth and that it was a skill he somehow kept throughout the years of brainwashing and torture. The feeling of your body against his calmed his mind and kept his focus from wandering back to the past. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes of him leading you aimlessly around the fountain, you pulled away gently and looked up at him with a smile. “We should make a wish.”

His face twisted with confusion. “A wish?”

You smiled as you nodded at him, “You know, toss some coins into the fountain and make a wish as we do.”

Bucky laughed as he thought about how much like a fairytale this night was turning into. Apparently his kiss had done the trick. “I don’t think this is a wishing-well. Although -” he chuckled again, “-I hardly think they meant for anyone to dance around in it either, so why not.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hand and fished around in his pocket until he found his wallet. He’d never felt more relieved to see pennies in his life as he pulled out the only two coins he had. He pressed one into your hand as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It looks like we only get one wish each tonight, so we’d better make it a good one.”

He watched as you stared down at the penny, wondering what wish you were going to make. Your face was serious as you thought but broke out into the most beautiful smile. You stood there, coin pressed to your lips, before tossing it out into the fountain. You stared up at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his wish.

He didn’t need to stop and think about his wish. He knew what his wish was from the day he met you. Following your motions, he pressed the penny to his lips and wished, ‘I wish for a life filled with more wonderful nights like this, with this beautiful woman in my arms’. He tossed the coin in and his hand found its way back into yours.

Without a word, he pulled you back in close to him and resumed leading you around the fountain. After a few moments of peaceful silence, he spoke.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” you said, voice teasing as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “And let me tell you, I really want this wish to come true.”

“Me too honey, me too.”

As the memory faded, Bucky couldn’t help but let the tears that had been building fall. That night had been so wonderful. You deserve someone who could give you nothing but nights like that, not the heartache he put you through. He closed his eyes and whispered to no one but himself, “You could’ve been the one. You should’ve been the one...”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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wheresmybuckyhoes · 3 years

Text

The 3 forbidden words

Summary: What does Bucky do when you accidently let slip the 3 words everyone fears to say first in a relationship?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of loved ones, swearing, references to sex, depression, numbness

This is another wonderful ask from @summerdaughter. This is quite an angsty fic, but as promised I ended it with a lot of fluff. Enjoy my lovelies x

*2 years ago*

You let out a satisfied sigh as you finished leafing through the mission briefing, sliding a rusted paper clip onto the thick stack of paper to hold it all together. You tossed it carelessly onto your bed side table, reaching over with a small groan to switch of the night light. You fell back into the warm embrace of your bed, eyes fluttering shut. Finally some rest. Finally you can silence your thoughts and drift off into blissful sleep. Finally you can quieten thoughts that you don’t dare let yourself think of even for second, for fear you will spiral back into the numbness that had consumed you since Thanos... Finally, you can sleep. But almost as soon as relief washes over you, your body tenses up once more and you see their faces in the darkness, eyes snapping open, you almost cry out into the silence.

You always hear people blaming a restless night or two on stress, insomnia or having a lot on their mind. No one ever talks about what losing that which you love can do to a person, when you’re all alone in your bed, accompanied by only the still silence of the empty room you spend most of your time in and your own prison - cell of a mind. It’s then, in the dead of night, that you miss them most. You miss their playful jokes, the way they would laugh with you, the way they would cry with you, the way their touch felt upon your skin. You missed Tony’s stupid inventions he gifted you when you were sad. You missed the feeling of Nat’s careful fingers braiding your hair when you were too tired to do so. You missed feeling like nothing could hurt you ever again when you were in Steve’s arms. For most, when darkness fell like a blanket upon the Earth, it was time to go to sleep. Not you, apparently.

You pushed yourself out from between the blankets, exposed feet making contact with the cool wooden floor. You swept the hair off your neck into a loose ponytail, the slight draft from the open window tickling your nape. You didn’t mind it in the slightest. You cringed at every creak and whinge of the floorboards, knowing you wouldn’t forgive yourself for waking Sam or Peter who both also barley got enough sleep as it is. You mindlessly made your way to the kitchen, lost in thought. You wanted some sort of alcoholic drink, something to dull your senses and numb your body. Maybe you would make some tea and spike it with vodka, or maybe you would just skip the tea and go straight for the vodka. You were surprised to find Bucky pulled up to the bar as you turned the corner, sipping generously on a whiskey, your breath catching as you took in his moon - lit frame. He was wearing grey sweatpants, tied loosely, but evidently he had chosen to wear nothing to cover his toned back which you found oddly calming to watch as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. You tried to match your speed with his, only just now noticing how quickly you had been breathing. He turned around, not a single hint of surprise or shock registering on his face as he beckoned with his head for you to sit beside him. You obliged gratefully, happy to have some company for once.

*one week ago*

‘and Wanda?’ you ask, Doctor Strange’s hologram stood in front of you as you nibbled on some toast. ‘We’re not sure. Last we heard, she had broken into some SWORD facility. I’ll update you if we find anything else’ he replied, giving you a sad smile with a million different meanings behind it. ‘...and how are we dealing with Morgan?’ you asked, voice breaking as you tried not to think about how she has to grow up without a father, just like you did. ‘Pepper is doing just fine with Happy’s help. Don’t worry about her, y/n. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is’, Strange replied sympathetically. You nodded dutifully, thanking him and switching off the device. ‘They’ll find her, y/n. Don’t worry. They have to’ Peter comforted you, patting your shoulder apologetically. He may not have known Wanda for long, but he knew how close you two were, and don’t get me started on how closely he sympathised with Morgan Stark.

Peter soon left after he had downed a few cups of shitty coffee, promising to return in the afternoon. You had seen him try to grab his suit without you noticing, but you decided to leave him be, saying nothing to Sam as he also left to go help out with something in Wakanda. You had been alone for an hour or so at most when Bucky strolled in, humming to himself a song which seemed all too familiar. ‘What’s that song. I know it’ you questioned, patting the couch as Bucky slumped down beside you. ‘I don’t know the name, doll’ he sighed, swinging his arm around the back of your shoulders, in a way that almost seemed like he was sort of shielding you. You always felt safe beside Bucky. You pulled his face against yours, kissing him softly as he cupped your face gently with his metallic fingers. ‘I was worried Spidey boy was going to hog you forever’ Bucky laughed, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip making you giggle. You sighed contently as you melted into his warm embrace, inhaling his heavenly, euphoric scent. Without thinking, the 3 forbidden words poured out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. I love you. Withdrawing his hand abruptly, you noticed Bucky’s eyes widen slightly in a panic, his hands meeting each other in his lap, flesh fingers tracing over metal ones as he always did when he was uncomfortable. ‘...this couch. I love this couch’ you corrected yourself awkwardly, not wanting to make eye contact for fear of tears from your eyes at once, like blood from a wound. Uncontrollable, painful.

But as Bucky laughed nervously, getting up to grab a mug of tea, you bit your lip in deep thought. You had been dating for almost 2 years, now. It was easy, and made sense, finding comfort in each-other after suffering the same loses. It had been going well, even better than well. Great. You had slept together after only a few weeks, finding his touch not only pleasurable, but comforting, almost filling one of the many holes puncturing your heart. You never felt the need to label yourself, confident that Bucky wanted and felt the same as you, reciprocating your love for him. But what if you were wrong?

But if he felt the same as you, why then, was he so scared of saying ‘I love you’ back? You got up, shaking slightly as you walked around the kitchen island to stand in front of him. ‘I love you, Bucky’ you stated, looking him straight in those big blue eyes. Bucky on the other hand suddenly found his cup of tea super interesting, staring at it intently. You shook your head with frustration, taking the cup out of his hand and placing it down harshly on the countertop with a sharp bang, tea spilling over the sides. ‘Why won’t you say it back, Barnes?’.

Bucky almost choked on air as ‘Barnes’ fired from your mouth. Now he knew you were angry, but he didn’t understand. ‘I don’t understand’ he said truthfully, finally finding your eyes with his own. ‘Why do we need to say it out loud when we’re both thinking it anyway?’ he asked you, a look of genuine confusion splayed across his face. ‘That’s what people like us usually do’ you replied, reminding yourself to hold your tongue carefully and not let your bad - temper take over.

‘What do you mean, people like us?’ he continued with his previous style of stupid questioning, and you wondered how someone could be this daft. ‘A couple, Bucky! Boyfriend and girlfriend. People who are dating. Lovers. Partners. Must I continue?’ you replied, losing your patience with him. You had already been through so much pain, did he really need to inflict even more. ‘I told you when we started this thing, doll, I wasn’t ready to date. I had just lost Steve...’ you noticed a slight waver in his voice at the mention of Steve, and you too slightly winced upon hearing the name of your beloved friend who had left you both when you needed him most. At the same time, hearing him call you doll when you were so enraged just ticked you off even more. ‘...and I wasn’t ready to be romantically involved with anyone’ he finished, waiting to see your reaction. If ever there was a time for Bucky to be scared, it was now.

You bit down harshly on your tongue to stop yourself from crying, because you knew once you let the pain in, it would never stop. ‘But it’s been 2 years Bucky. I thought...’ you waved your hand dismissively in the air as if you were waving an actual thought away. ‘So it was just sex to you?’ you finally dared ask, the question almost a punch to Bucky’s gut, causing him to writhe under your burning gaze. ‘No, doll, no it wasn’t just sex I never -‘ he tried to scramble for some sort of logical explanation, but you were hurt beyond belief.

You exhaled humorously, laughing to yourself. ‘You’re the winter soldier, Bucky. Enhanced to live many more years than the average human. You and Steve both. Need I remind you I’m just a weak mortal, like them. Just like Tony, and Nat, and look where they ended up. Dead’ you spoke the last word with such pain and sharpness, it was like you had stabbed Bucky with one of his own knives, and Bucky almost trembled. You forgot he could hear your heartbeat, part of the perks of being ‘enhanced’, as you called it, and your heart was racing faster and faster with every passing moment. All he could do was listen to it race away, and try not to let his own one break.

‘You may still have battles to fight. People to avenge, people to make amends with. But I am so done with this bullshit Bucky. I’ve lost enough to know that I never want to kill another soul again. Thanos was the last. Thanos is the last. I want to settle down. Maybe even start a family one day, I don’t fucking know. I was hoping it could be with you’ Bucky tried to interject but you held up a red tipped finger, silencing him.

‘If your not ready, that’s fine. I’m ok with that. You know why, Barnes? Because I fucking love you, and I’ll never stop loving you, till the end of the line’ your lip quivered with that last sentence, shoving him back and racing to the elevator to escape this place, to escape him. You don’t know how many hours you were gone for, but when you came back, he was gone.

*now*

‘It’s not your fault he’s gone, y/n. Don’t you dare blame yourself, he made his choice’ Sam spoke gently, a solemn, understanding look passing between him and Peter. You plastered a fake smile on your face, one not quite reaching your eyes as you reassured them you weren’t blaming yourself. A lie.

Bucky was gone when you came back the day of your fight, all that was left was a note scrawled in his old-fashioned handwriting. You noticed parts of the ink was slightly smudged in an odd sort of way, like salted tears had fallen upon it. I’m sorry doll. I love you so much, I really do. I’m just so unbelievably scared that if we became serious, I would just end up hurting you, just like I did them. You blinked back tears, realising he was referring to Steve, Nat and Tony. ‘It’s not your fault baby’, you whispered to the empty room.

The ringing of the doorbell stirred you from your thoughts, causing you to jump. ‘Wait here’ Sam commanded you as him and Peter entered the elevator and travelled down to see who was bothering what was left of the avengers. You watched the numbers go all the way from 6 down to 0 as the elevator evidently reached the ground floor.

A few minutes passed. You sat at the kitchen table, sipping gingerly on that shitty coffee you all loved so much before you heard the elevator ding as it slid open to reveal Sam, Peter and Bucky stood inside. It was then that Peter suddenly decided he had to help Sam with ‘stuff’, as the spider boy so poetically and subtly put it. You glared at the boys as they shuffled around in the small elevator, swiftly making a getaway, as Bucky timidly stepped out. You crossed your arms.

‘Back again so soon? Here to hurt your other friends?’ you shot at him, pushing down the feeling of guilt as soon as the words left your mouth. You seemed to have forgotten the words of his note as quickly as you had read them. Bucky walked up to you, nervously to say the least, reaching into his pocket. You raised your eyebrows in confusion awaiting his response, as he took a deep breath.

The look of confusion soon morphed into shock as the super soldier gracefully got down to one knee, pulling out what you recognised with awe to be a ring. ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you doll. Took me a few days to get my shit together, realise Steve would kick me for leaving if he was still here, find the right one (he nodded towards the ring held so carefully in his hands), and I couldn’t let you down again...won’t let you down ever again. I love you more than I could ever put into words and would love nothing more then to be with you...till the end of the line’ You struggled to hold in tears as you hands flew to your mouth, the first real smile of many days growing to cover your face. Your shaky breaths only quickened as Bucky smiled at you like a happy puppy, at last sure of where he wanted to be, and who he wanted to be with.

‘Y/n S/n, will you make me the happiest super soldier alive and...’ Bucky tried to say as he held the ring out to you from beneath you, but a high pitched ‘Yes’ escaped from your mouth muffled by your trembling hands as you nodded, cheeks now glistening with tears. ‘You didn’t let me finish, will you...’

‘Yes’ you stopped him again as his sweet eyes crinkled at the sides from both laughter and frustration, as e stood up and you quickly brushed your lip against his impatiently.

‘Marry me, doll’ he finished, as he slid the ring perfectly onto your finger, diamond sparkling in the sunlight as you heard a small squeal from the direction of the elevator followed by the sound of a man elbowing a teenage boy playfully in the ribs. Before he could get another word out, you pulled Bucky in by the collar of his tight leather jacket with one arm ripped off, kissing him deeply, pouring in all your love and affection. You pulled back, reaching for his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom, away from a few certain someones prying eyes.

‘I thought this relationship wasn’t about sex?’ the handsome motherfucker grinned. ‘Oh so you don’t want to fuck me then, Barnes?’ Oh, now he was in trouble. ‘I never said that...’ he replied smugly, tossing you over his shoulder bringing you both to your room, onto the bed and under the covers.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes one shot #falcon #peter parker #spiderman #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #wandavision #the winter soldier

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swampofiniquity · 4 years

Text

The Luckiest (Chris Redfield x Reader)

Part One of Two

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2,531 (oops)

Summary: After work tears him away from your honeymoon, Chris surprises you by coming home early.

Warnings: sexual content, thigh riding, fingering

Cross posted to AO3

It was a beautiful night and you had the windows open to enjoy the sweet, fragrant breeze as it carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine into your new living room. You had just spent the better part of an hour covering the carpet with a tarp and methodically taping off the trim, getting ready to paint the boring eggshell white walls a more vibrant turquoise. As an artist, there was something soothing to the actions, to even just the intent to paint, to transform your surroundings into something brighter. It was a balm to your frazzled mental state.

It had been a stressful day to say the least, overseeing the movers and contractors while juggling phone calls from your day job and trying to keep the dogs calm in a brand new environment. It was made all the more worse by the obvious, looming absence of your newly pronounced husband. He was originally supposed to be there to help with the move, but now it looked like the same incident that him cutting your honeymoon short was likely to extend into another week.

You were disappointed of course, but not exactly surprised. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to marry the BSAA Captain, but it didn’t stop you from wishing that the man could take at least one well earned vacation without it being interrupted by bio-terrorism.

At least with Chris being away for a while, you had some time to make the new house feel a little more homey before he got back. As of now, you had only managed to unpack the essentials, a few kitchen boxes, some stuff from the master bathroom, and some sheets for the bed. The house itself was still a maze of bare walls, moving boxes, plastic wrapped furniture (unfortunately including your bed frame) and stray bubble wrap.

That, along with the usual worry-induced insomnia that always gripped you when Chris was called away on an extended mission, led to you setting up to paint at 8 o’clock at night.

You had decided to make a night of it, cracking open a cheap bottle of wine, the only one you had that was twist-off since you had no earthly idea where your bottle opener was hiding in the mess of boxes, and dragging out the old boombox to keep you company. You popped in one of the mix CD’s you made back in college and cranked the music up just loud enough to avoid pissing off your new neighbors.

About an hour into painting, you were half tipsy and partially covered in paint, but you were actually having fun and had managed to make decent progress, completing two of the four walls. Your first CD of the night ended, so you took another swig of wine straight from the bottle and selected a new one.

As a new song played and you picked the paint roller back up, your two dogs started barking from where they were sequestered in the other room. You didn’t think much of it since they had been outside recently and been going off at every little noise all day, still not quite comfortable in their strange environment. You knew the doors were all locked and bolted, so you just let them get it out of their system and went back to work with a shrug.

A decision you’d come to regret when you soon felt a hand on your shoulder.

You shrieked and spun around, brandishing the paint roller as a makeshift weapon. The intruder dodged at the last second, narrowly avoiding a bright splat of turquoise across the chest. Your heart beating wildly, your legs almost gave out when you recognized the man standing in your living room.

“Easy there,” came your husband’s familiar rumbling voice, his hands outstretched towards you like he was trying to approach a particularly feisty feral cat.

“God, Chris! You scared the shit outta me,” you dropped the roller, not bothering to look where it landed, and launched yourself into his waiting arms.

He laughed, catching you and lifting you off your feet. “Baby, you are covered in paint!”

“I don’t care. You’re home,” you said into his neck, your body relaxing for the first time in days as you inhaled his scent. He was still wearing his travel-rumpled uniform and probably hadn’t showered in days, but you didn’t mind. He was alive and back where he belonged, that was all that mattered.

“Mmm yes I am. I like what you’ve done with the place,” he quipped, craning his neck around you to survey the half-painted, mostly empty living room. The only furniture that had made it in so far was the sectional couch, still covered in plastic to protect it from any stray paint. You had also set-up a lopsided ‘table’ out of boxes to hold your boombox and half empty wine bottle. It was a far cry from the clean, perfect household you had planned on welcoming him home too.

“Hey,” you whined, shimmying back down to your feet and pulling away to put your hands on your hips. “Don’t mock the process. I’ve been working my butt off to-”

“I hope not,” Chris interrupted, reaching around and groping your ass through your shorts.

You laughed and smacked him in the chest. “You’re a real comedian tonight, huh?”

He bent down and kissed you, and you lost yourself in the feeling for a moment. “I’m anything you want me to be, baby.”

You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him pick you back up and going limp in his arms. His lips found your neck and started to leave a series of soft, wet kisses from your jawline to your collarbone. You sighed contentedly. “I just want you to be Chris. I missed him.”

“He missed you too.”

Chris took a deep breath, the action making his chest press even more firmly against yours. This was what he loved most about coming home, even back when home was your old cramped apartment. Being able to leave Captain Redfield and the BSAA and whatever horrors he had faced in the field behind, and just be Chris again. Wrapped in your arms, everything was simple. He was just yours. Your husband. He wondered if that would ever get old, and hoped to god it didn’t.

Fingers playing with the short hair on the nape of his neck, you pulled back so you could see his face. “You need anything, hun? We don’t actually have any food yet, but I could order something. There are a few places nearby that should still be open.”

Chris shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. This,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, his arms tightening around you. “This is everything I need.”

You felt your heart clench and used your hands on his neck to bring him back down for another, deeper kiss. He hummed, coaxing you to open your lips so he could slip his tongue in to tangle with yours. A rush of heat whooshed down between your legs.

“I need you too,” you breathed after separating for air. Chris’ eyes went dark.

“I know, baby. Let me take care of you.” Two strong hands cupped your ass and hoisted you up higher until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He turned and headed for the wrapped-up couch. “My poor wife, I promised her she wouldn’t be able to walk after our honeymoon and didn’t come through. I need to make it to you, don’t I?”

A sudden surge of arousal stole your voice and you could only nod as Chris sat down on the arm of the couch. He moved you effortlessly until you were settled, straddling one of his muscular thighs. You could feel the heat from his body through your flimsy gym shorts and didn’t bother to hold back a moan.

“You’re so pretty like this, dressed down, no make-up, paint in your hair.” He reached up and tugged at some strands of your ponytail that must have gotten in the way while you worked. You smiled sheepishly. “And I gotta be the luckiest person in the world to be the one to come home to you.”

You felt flushed at his words. “I love you so much.”

Chris kissed you as a response and you got the message as clearly as if he had spoken it. You felt his adoration in the way his hands roamed your body, caressing you gently and finding all the familiar spots that made you shiver. Your own hands shot out to his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the fire he was building inside of you slowly began to ramp up.

Desperate for more, you rocked forward as he continued to kiss you, making you gasp against his mouth as the movement dragged your core against his leg, your underwear and shorts putting delicious pressure on your clit. Chris swore, using his hands to guide your hips into moving again and again until your body took over and you started to ride him in earnest.

“Can I take this off, baby?” Chris tugged at the old, over-sized shirt you threw on before you started painting. Once again, all you could do was nod, your focus split between him and your approaching orgasm. Warm hands trailed up your body after the fabric as he slowly, deliberately rolled it up and over your head.

“This too?” He asked, fingers hooked into the band of your sports bra. “You wanna let me kiss your beautiful breasts while you ride my thigh?”

“Oh god, Chris,” you panted, throwing your head back. You were getting close.

He squeezed you through your bra and your hips stuttered from the added pleasure. “That a yes? Come on, let me hear it.”

“Yes,” you nearly screamed and he wasted no time in sending the restrictive garment flying across the room to join your shirt.

Your skin was hot, but his tongue was hotter as he bent to give much needed attention to your sensitive breasts. He licked and kissed your skin, skimming the edge of your nipples, not quite giving you enough to send you over the edge.

You whimpered. “Chris.”

“I got you, baby.” Finally, he took one of your nipples into his mouth as one of his hands snaked down the front of your shorts. Deft fingers pushed inside you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it relentlessly.

Now riding his hand, your legs turning to jello as your climax built. “Fuck,” you shouted.

“That’s it. You’re so wet for me, my little wife. I want to see you come. Can you do that for me, baby?" He asked, his breath ghosting across your skin as he rambled. He switched sides and pulled your neglected nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping the overly sensitive flesh.

The sweet burst of pain sent you careening over the edge, your whole body shaking as your orgasm hit you. Your mouth dropped open, a scream caught in your throat as he finger fucked you through the aftershocks until you were so overly sensitive that your body squirmed involuntarily away from his hand.

"God, you're perfect." He carefully gathered your still trembling body into his arms and cradled you close to his chest. The soothing thud of his heart beat helped you come back to earth as you buried your too hot face in his shirt. Chris rubbed your back, fingers tracing little circles that left goosebumps on your skin.

"Mmm that feels nice," you almost purred.

You stayed cuddled together like that for a long while, both of you reluctant to move or speak, not wanting to break the quiet, loving spell that had fallen. For the first time since you moved in, the new house felt full. Like home.

Then a loud bark from one of the dogs made you jump. Chris laughed and you relished being close enough to feel it rumble through his chest. "I guess I better go say hi to Dumb and Dumber."

"Don't be mean," you scolded. "Poor things missed you too. I mean, I came back from our trip without you, then packed up all our stuff and moved to a completely different place. They probably thought they'd never see you again."

"Then I better not keep them waiting." When he started to stand, you made to get up too, but Chris shook his head and gently transferred you from his lap to the couch. "You stay, I'll go let them outside. I need a cigarette anyway."

You frowned. Chris had quit smoking back when you first started dating, however he had taken it back up this year and you hated it. Mostly because you knew it was due to stress from his job and he refused to talk to you about it. But he had only just gotten home and you wanted this blissful moment to last as long as possible. You bit your tongue and saved the usual argument for another day. "Don't be too long."

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you tonight yet." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and walked off. You couldn't help but laugh at the sound of him greeting the dogs from the other room. Chris had been against getting a pet at first, putting on a stern face and relenting only when you dragged him to the shelter and placed an adorable, wiggly puppy in his over-sized arms. You left that day with two and he'd been a huge softie for the pair ever since.

A similar story to when you first started dating, you mused as you laid out on the couch, the plastic sticking uncomfortably to your bare skin, but you couldn't muster up the energy to move. You also had to wear Chris down with your unbearable cuteness before he brought you home. When you had first met him, he had done little else in your presence but smoke cigarettes and brood.

You must have dozed off in your post-orgasm haze because the next thing you knew, your husband was gently shaking you awake. You stretched out languidly and moaned as some of your joints popped.

"I can carry you up to bed if you want."

You shook your head and grinned up at him. "Just resting up for round two."

"Oh really?" Chris helped you up and spun you back in his arms. You pressed yourself up against him and the rough fabric of his uniform felt amazing against your bare chest.

"Of course. Why don't you go upstairs and start the shower? I need to put the paint up for tomorrow, but I'll join you."

"You saying I stink?" You squealed as he tickled your sides with the accusation. After a moment of enjoying the torture, he let you wrestle his hands away and place them on your hips.

“No,” you replied, hopping up on your tip-toes to peck his lips. "I'm saying I want you wet and naked and completely at my mercy."

Chris growled, pulling you back into a kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip. “Yes, ma’am.”

Part Two Available Here

#chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield fanfic #resident evil fanfic #part 2 in the shower coming up next #really didn't mean for this to so long #i just have a lot of feelings about this huge meathead

414 notes · View notes

1dsource · 4 years

Photo

Author Spotlight: soldouthaz

Don’t forget to show the author to leave kudos and comments to show the author love!

like it’s a game

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there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

let me carry your weight

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louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

make this feel like home

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The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.

give me love

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Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

Or, Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

tall stories on the page

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harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip.

louis is a nice change of pace.

Part 1 of drabbles

makeup drawer

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harry’s excited and nervous about wearing makeup for the first time publicly. louis is his supportive makeup artist.

Part 2 of drabbles

golden slumbers fill your eyes

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“I just want to sleep,” he croaks, hands twisted in the front of Louis’ shirt, “S’all I want, Lou, I just want to be able to sleep.”

“I know,” he says, stroking Harry’s hair and shushing him.

And he’s still worn out, mind heavy from the turmoil of his failure, but Louis never fails to make him feel better. He rests his forehead against his and exhales, finally letting his eyes fall shut.

harry has insomnia and louis helps him through the ups and downs.

Part 3 of drabbles

you’re safe like springtime

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And it's bad enough that he's trapped in the library during a storm, but it's infinitely worse that he's stuck in the library during a storm with his teammate and sworn enemy - Harry Styles.

Part 4 of drabbles

living for your every move

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Being around Harry is always exciting. Louis swears he’s always discovering new things that he’s never felt before when he’s around him. He gets a shiver down his spine when Harry puts his hand on his lower back, an unexplainable warmness when he presses a deep kiss to the skin of Louis’ cheek. His heart feels like it beats ten times faster and he sometimes wonders if Harry can feel it when it does, when his words slow and his throat drops into his stomach because he simply doesn’t know what to do with the onslaught of sudden desire.

Already from just thinking about him alone Louis can feel his skin heat up again, the familiar tremble in his movement. His brain feels hazy around the edges when he closes his eyes and tries to picture how Harry looked only moments ago when he’d kissed Louis goodbye out front of his flat.

His lips had been soft just like they always are, thin but thorough as they met Louis’. A swipe of his tongue and a hand on the back of his head, another at his waist, the taste of the sweet wine from dinner still heavy on their taste buds.

But it always stops there.

Part 5 of drabbles

your biggest fan

Words: 9k

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.

And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

Part 6 of drabbles

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Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

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and he sits there quietly with harry’s headphones in his ears while his eyes begin to close, totally unaware that he’s listening to the soundtrack of harry falling in love with him.

or, another roadtrip au featuring harry as the misunderstood hipster, louis as the bitter psych major, liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

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it's everything he doesn't notice until it's been taken away from him.

Part 1 of look after you

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Louis' going to do better. He’s going to have all of the uncomfortable conversations and the relationship talks. He’s going to make himself be a good boyfriend.

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the way this river runs

Words: 27k

It’d be so easy to just open his mouth and plead with Harry, to scream I’m sorry until his voice disappears, but he can’t. Be it his pride or his ego or his insecurities, he just can’t do it. The worst part is that he knows Harry would probably forgive him.

But Louis doesn’t want phony forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry’s soothing words and pity embrace, thinks he might just break altogether if he was offered them. He feels like he’s made of glass recently and it’s to the point where he kind of wants to tip over the edge, just to see if he’d shatter. Just to see who’d be there to pick up the pieces if he did.

Louis is provided a chance to start over. He takes it.

sky’d be falling and i’d hold you tight

Words: 6.3k

it's too much to handle at once but louis needs it this way - needs harry to tether him back to the earth before he floats away from it completely.

or before there is no more earth left at all.

an au based on the song by jp saxe and julia michaels

Part 1 of song fics

#faaw #author spotlight #soldouthaz #fic rec #hljournal #hlcreators #larry fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns, corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives,

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

"I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

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Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me.

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis?

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either.

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman.

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar.

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot.

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached.

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,”

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together.

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box.

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry.

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it.

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off.

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out.

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,”

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,”

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that.

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked.

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense.

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall?

“Uh… there’s this boy,”

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

“He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,”

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.”

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out.

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself.

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while.

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic.

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.”

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.”

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

“I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,”

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked.

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them.

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain.

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff.

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all.

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,”

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that.

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem.

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence.

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

“I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.”

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed.

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use.

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping.

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,”

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell.

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird.

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always.

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,”

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?”

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately.

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her.

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up.

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg.

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing.

Fake.

She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways.

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins.

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore.

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there.

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?”

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,”

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed.

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,”

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive.

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant.

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,”

“I hear ya,” He nodded.

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him.

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together.

“This, I’m not sure what it is,”

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff.

“I was wondering if you knew,”

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass.

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,”

“Yes, that’d be great,”

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face.

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,”

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place.

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now.

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down.

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before.

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways.

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test.

“Yeah sure,”

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too.

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone.

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum.

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood.

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring.

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study.

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once.

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,”

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly.

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,”

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges.

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad.

They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now.

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake.

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom.

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time.

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off.

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent.

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink.

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?”

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me.

God how I wish that was what she asked me.

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain.

“You’re dying? How are you dying?”

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone.

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm.

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,”

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room.

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words.

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,”

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive.

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense.

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon.

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation.

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit.

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them.

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat.

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke.

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,”

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air.

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?”

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all.

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,”

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system.

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean.

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing.

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair.

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through.

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.”

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,”

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words.

“You know what? I think I might,”

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast.

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever.

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep.

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence.

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest.

“I love you,” I whispered.

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person.

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh?

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything.

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back.

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.”

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger.

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on.

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like.

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,”

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood.

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,”

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear.

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place.

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now.

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed.

“Uh…”

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

“Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?”

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms.

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me.

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,”

Liar. He so was crying.

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,”

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.”

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard.

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,”

We both laughed at that.

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,”

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,”

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly.

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes.

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t.

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away.

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful, adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake.

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep.

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen.

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…”

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?”

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,”

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing.

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,”

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,”

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now.

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back.

“Can Y/N stay for the night?”

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,”

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead when I felt eyes on me.

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again.

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately.

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust.

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