#I love hiding references to songs and media within my fics

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 5]

Batten down the hatches, my friends. This one is a L O N G one but it was so worth it.

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Unloveable - The Smiths

“If I seem a little strange / well, that’s because I am /

But I know that you would like me /

If only you could see me / if only you could meet me /

I don’t have much in my life / but take it, it’s yours.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, hospital mention, blood / injury descriptions, AMERICAN HEALTHCARE, more horrors of a nine-to-five (Dolly Parton would have words), extreme weather, angst, hurt / comfort

Word Count: 3.9k (SORRY)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 6] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

Driving on uneven roads is difficult enough on its own, and having only one hand while amped up on adrenaline and preoccupied about potentially having lost Corvus forever makes you downright reckless. A particularly hard thump! has you worried about your car’s alignment but you simply add it to the list of things wrong and continue down the road.

The emergency room sucks. You’re not even fully in reality by the time you finish checking in, clutching your still-bleeding hand in your lap with not more than a couple pads of gauze and a random towel you had laying around in the back of the car. It’s a miracle how a human can bleed for over two hours and still be fully coherent enough to lie to their nurses and doctors about a knife slipping while cutting twine.

They don’t believe you for a second, but they both aren’t paid enough and are over-worked enough not to care. Everyone lies in the ER.

A shot of lidocaine and eighteen stitches later, you’re sent on your way with opioid pain meds you won’t be taking and a deep appreciation that Corvus hadn’t scored your dominant hand. It’s still irritating when you get home and try to undress to shower, unable to flex your injured hand at all. You straight up decide against actually cooking, heating up a frozen meal in the microwave and sitting on the couch to overthink everything once more.

The look of complete dismay on Corvus’s face before he left haunted you. 

You had long accepted that the black betta mer wasn’t the most emotionally expressive individual. His carefully neutral countenance rarely gave way to more than a quirk of a brow or occasional lip-turn, so the twisted look of open terror on his pale face shook you to your core both now and then. Hell, in the moment you had even been able to forget about a two and a half inch long laceration in your palm from sheer worry for him. 

You never would have expected a creature so powerful to run.

Another cold spoonful goes down roughly at the thought, and, dissociated, you decide you’ve had enough sustenance. You crawl into bed, exhausted, and feel your limbs sink heavily into the mattress as a deep sigh leaves your lungs. A hollow feeling permeates your chest.

You can’t help the rush of emotions that suddenly overcomes you, choked sobs racking your body as you curl up into a miserable ball around your pillow. The action brings only scant comfort to the throbbing ache in your chest. You don’t remember falling asleep.

The beach is cold, but you don’t care. 

You felt stupid coming back to the shoreline the day after everything, so you waited. Your Monday rolls around and you try to go back to the coast before work, briskly searching high and low for a glimpse of black fins and a glittering night’s-sky of scales. The tides grant you no such favors, and two hours are wasted on nothing when you’re forced to leave. You deflect every question from your coworkers with lies about a kitchen accident.

The next day is scarcely different. You finish your shift in the office like a reanimated corpse, putting in the bare minimum to not have anyone look twice in your direction. You can’t even remember more than the gist of the report you had just read on illegal fishing activity a hour south of you, another damned case of foreign bodies trying to use nonexistent loopholes in the law to talk their way into overfishing protected areas. It was a Coast Guard issue and never should have crossed your desk to begin with, but here you are, tangled in another mess outside of your depth.

You slam the door of your Bronco shut before you stomp onto the dark shore, not bothering to take the cliff down to Corvus’s den this time because you know you don’t have the brain capacity to even think about scaling the rocks. The extra five minute trip down and around the cliffside riddles you with nausea that intensifies when the light of your flashlight finds the entrance to the cavern. 

Of course Corvus isn’t there; you weren’t expecting him to be, yet still it anguishes you. Three days without the merman in your life and you’re already starting to fall apart? It makes you feel pathetic for having grown attached to him so quickly. 

But Corvus had never made you feel that way. Never once had he made you feel like your presence had been a burden to him, eagerly listening to every word you had said to him. He always replied with a caring thoughtfulness to any query you gave him, firm with his boundaries yet forgiving to the innocent faults that had occurred. 

Corvus had a way of making you feel genuinely listened to, even when he didn’t always reply. It was weird to describe someone like him as warm, given his penchant for reserved silence and generally closed-off nature, but the sincere cordiality he had with you had never failed to stir emotions in your chest that you had felt far too anxious to put a label on at the time.

You realize just how taken care of you had always been with the merman. He offered to hunt for you, even if the incident with the ducklings had been an awkward misunderstanding. He made a place for you within his den that could never have any functional use for him as his size. Hell, he would stride along you in the sand instead of asking you to join him in the waves because it was easier for you. You’re wearing a piece of his hoard!

He cared about you.

Your hand gently grasps the raven head pendant, and you sit down in the rickety chair that Corvus has specially gotten for you. The luminescents on the walls seem dimmer than before, and you notice how wilted they’ve become in Corvus’s short absence. Pushing aside the thought that the mer had been putting in actual maintenance to accommodate for you, you brush your hand against the cerulean phosphorescent flora. 

Corvus had taken care of you when you hadn’t asked for it, so you were going to do the same. 

Searching the den for anything vaguely cup-like to transfer water with turns up nothing, so you resort to cupping your healthy hand in that small stream leading into the den. You punctiliously pour the brine over each of the parched plants until they’re saturated. By the time you’ve finished, you notice the vegetation you had started with has already begun to glow brighter. You glow brighter than the cave in that moment.

Wednesday still bears no sign of Corvus, but it does teach an important piece of information: this den had not been abandoned like the others.

You finally gather the courage to check inside of the decorated bed space at the back of the den for the first time since the giant’s disappearance, and you’re flooded with relief when you see the large cache of dazzling objects still lining the walls. Corvus hadn’t left, per se. He just hadn’t returned yet. 

In your jacket pocket is the trusty metal pen Corvus had fixated on so long ago, and in a moment of weakness, you leave it on the stone shelf at the center of the cavern. You had other pens. This one should be his… even if he can’t use it.

You keep coming back to maintain the cavern: wetting the algae and mushrooms, clearing the space of any excess sand the tides brought in, polishing the corroded metals in his collection— nothing escapes your watchful eye. You’ve even accidentally fallen asleep on the bed of furs and grasses, waking up in a flurry to see that you were late for work and needed to leave now, even if you dreaded doing so. 

You always leave a new trinket behind on the round stone ‘table’. Old jewelry, a piece of abalone shell, a tea ball you haven’t used in ages, rose quartz, an entire abalone shell (that you’ve now started to use to hold everything), cool brooches you found at another beach, an enamel pin in the shape of a flying crow, and many other items from around your apartment make their way into Corvus’s den. You rearrange the items into a nice display before you leave.

A week passes. Half of a month. An entire month. The gash on your hand has healed well, the stitches removed with strict instructions to keep the area clean. 

Each day, no matter the weather, you return to Corvus’s beach. The den is monotonous, and recently, you’ve begun to avoid going inside of it lest you have to face the untouched items on the rock shelf more often than necessary. The physical effort to place something in the pile is nothing by now, but mentally, it wears on you.

What if all of this had been for nothing? You had been forcing such doubtful thoughts out of your head for a month faithfully, always trying to look on the bright side. You’ve waited longer for a pay-off before, haven’t you? 

Why was this any different?

…because it hurts. No matter what pep talks you give yourself or happy memories you relive, coming back to the beach hurts.

You’ve been persistent to the point you’re starting to think that you’re nothing more than an annoyance instead of the oh-so-great protector of the coasts you had foolishly thought yourself to be. What a sick fantasy, you think, meddling in the life of something so obviously beyond you. The delusion that you could ever be a part of Corvus’s realm has poisoned you to the point of desperately coming back to the barren sands for even a hope that you’ll see more than the black apparition in the reveries of your mind.

The apartment is a mess. Unfolded laundry piles in the basket, dirty clothes along the floor. You’ve used the same towel to shower for long enough that it’s starting to smell of mildew, but just thinking about the effort of washing a load of towels makes you feel like lead. It took an infestation of ants for you to do the mountain of dishes that piled in your sink. Everyday tasks become chores, and chores feel impossible. 

Still, you drag yourself out to work again today. The weather is awful: torrential downpour with gusts of wind that nearly knock you off of your feet. No one is working in the field today lest OSHA get a taste of blood in the water (literal or metaphorical). You drum your fingertips across the wooden desk as you read a private request for development nearby a protected habitat, opposite hand fiddling with your necklace. You can’t bring yourself to take it off, even if it hurts to see in the mirror each day.

You’re in the middle of a paragraph about intended waste management when a heckling voice jogs you out of it. “I didn’t take you for the goth type,” it jeers, and you look up to see one of the environmental science team leads. A man twice your age. What was his name again?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you retort, audibly weary.

 “The necklace,” he gestures at your throat. Your coworker sits against your desk, uninvited, looking down at you with leery eyes. “Haven’t seen you in that number before.”

You simply shake your head and look back down at the paper, uninterested in the conversation. He doesn’t take the hint.

The lead continues, “You haven’t been as chipper recently. Where’s your spunk? Your fire?—” he follows the words with a ridiculous hand gesture— “Those bags under your eyes could be checked in at the airport.”

You’d laugh at his joke if you weren’t already in such a piss-poor mood. “I’m just tired,” you state, not turning your head to look at him, “I’ll be fine.”

A hand on your shoulder causes you to jolt. “Look, kid, we’ve all got our bad days, but I can tell when someone needs a break—”

You throw the offending hand off of you and stand up roughly, throwing your chair back into the wall in the process. You feel heated. “I told you, I’m fine!” Your words are laced with venom, scratchy and raw and bitter. 

The commotion causes the lead to recoil, distaste written on his face. Other people in the office are starting to stare, and you meet each of their gazes individually. Maybe that was a bit too far.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and head falling forward. Everything aches. “You’re right,” you admit, offering an apologetic look to what’s-his-name, “I’m not feeling well.”

It takes no more than a few minutes to submit your request to leave early. As soon as it’s approved, you rush out of the building. The torrent building inside of you has nothing on the rain around, and you high-tail it out of the parking lot. 

Truly, you didn’t mean to end up back here today. The ocean is too rough, the cliff perilous, the beach an utter mess. The thought of just how stupid your actions are does nothing to stop you, though. 

You run down the embankment to the dock, shoes getting soaked from the crashing waves as you search the water. 

Nothing.

You scramble to the den, slipping and falling down the rocky slope and barely catching yourself before you hit your head. 

Nothing. 

You claw your way through the sands— up soggy hills and over rocky ledges, around complex twists and turns in the sandstone, under and over jutting stones, looking anywhere for alabaster white. 

Nothing.

You’re back at the dock, watching the serpent of metal squirm and thrash in the storm. With unstable footing, you sloppily traverse the writhing mass of steel, barely able to hold yourself upright as you reach the end of it. The storm forces you to your knees, and you place your hands on the lip. Despondency grips you, tearing at your throat.

“I’m sorry!” you cry, voice drowned out by the thundering of rain. “I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry!” A black wave pummels into your small body, the force of an ocean threatening to knock you off of the dock. Still, you cling. You duck your head against the chilled metal, letting out a hissed breath before inhaling a mouthful of seawater. Blubbering, coughing, you rise back up and look out over the waves. They are cold and unflinching.

When the fury of the storm lulls, you force yourself to continue, hoarse. “I messed up and I just want to know how, okay? I don’t know what I did, I—” you choke off a sob, shaking your head, “I-I…” Muscles cry at you to stop, body begging you to return to the car for warmth. You persevere. You have for the last month. 

“I miss you, okay!” The wail carries across the ocean, echoing across the tides back at you like a taunt. Even in the calm of the storm, rain batters against you. The dock stops squirming so intensely, and you take the moment to catch your breath.

Even in your honesty, even in your raw vulnerability, screaming to the heavens for an answer, you receive nothing.

You turn away from the ocean and sink down onto yourself, defeated. The sobs you had been holding at bay spill out, and you hug your knees as you bawl into them. Your clothes are soaked, the wind is cold, and your chest feels miserable. 

Even with the storm beginning to pass by, you feel no better. You will away the tears eventually, wiping wet tears with a wet sleeve that feels like sandpaper, and ready yourself to leave.

The utterly shattered face of Corvus Corax looks at you, a few feet from the edge of the dock, just barely above the water. Eyes of onyx lay wide with guilt, grimacing.

You do not hesitate to throw yourself into the choppy water at him.

Corvus has no time to react to your actions before you wrap your arms around his neck clinging onto him as you gasp like a fish, clutching the coal-and-bone giant close to you like a lifeline. Right now, in the swell, he was.

Tentative arms snake around your midsection, slowly but surely pulling you closer to him. You feel the merman press his face into your soaked hair, taking in a deep breath of your scent before a rumble leaves him. “This is no place for you,” he whispers, and you can only feel him fly through the water like a bolt of lightning, unable to look up from his neck with how firmly he holds you. When you can finally move your head, Corvus already has the both of you on land, beelining it for the den with a look of conviction on his face. 

You didn’t even know you were trembling before you got inside, the surprising warmth of the cavern thawing the numbness in your arms and legs. The frantic betta strides right past the chair in the main room with you in his arms, heading straight for the bed space. It’s only when he gets to the ‘bed’ that he abruptly stops, looking down at you.

“You’ve rested here before.” It’s another half-question, half-statement, and once again it’s correct.

“I fell asleep after taking care of the algae, I’m sorry—”

Corvus cuts you off by hastily lying the both of you on the furs and feathers, the action causing you to let out an ‘oof’ as the air is forced from your lungs. The way he curls and desperately clings to you like a lost child has you feeling all sorts of complex emotions, but you do not fight it. When you open your mouth to speak, he gently shushes you with a shake of his head. You rest beneath his chin in silence.

For the first time in over a month, everything feels okay.

“I hurt you,” Corvus’s gentle voice breaks the silence, barely audible. It’s laced with sorrow so deep that it cuts into your heart. With a shaky hand, the giant mer peels you away from him, looking your entire form over. 

You show him your scabbed and scarring palm, the area pink but almost fully healed by now. You jump to reassure him, “The doctor said it was a clean cut. Easy to heal. I’m okay.”

Corvus shakes his head again, gently taking your injured hand in his. He holds it to his chest, over his beating hearts as he looks deep into your eyes. The downpour inside of him has yet to quell. 

“I hurt you, and I could not bear it,” he restarts, twin hearts pounding in his ribcage. A heavy pause follows as Corvus thinks, wanting to explain himself properly yet lacking the experience to do so. His ear fins twitch up and down as he debates how to continue. Eventually, he sighs, looking around the walls of the bed space. "In fleeing like a coward,” he laments, “I have only hurt you more.” 

The sentence causes the tension to snap inside of you like a wire. “I came back here every day looking for you. Every. Single. Day,” you admonish, tears welling in your eyes, “I took care of the plants. I swept out the sand. I even polished everything so I could keep myself busy!” You go on a total tirade about your activities, Corvus’s gaze not once leaving you as he takes the brunt of it all. Falter, your words catch in your throat as tears spill. “...because I was so afraid to lose you that I couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.”

Corvus’s eyes soften with guilt, expression falling. He makes to respond, but you beat him to it.

“But I’m so glad you came back, because I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t.”

The merman’s mouth shuts, and his gaze returns to you. He does not hesitate to pull you close once more, gorgeous charcoal fins blanketing you. You run a hand over the appendage, unable to stop yourself, and Corvus lets out a blissful sigh. “I was afraid, so I fled without thinking of the consequences,” he explains. You do your best to sit back to watch him talk, but Corvus doesn’t allow you much room to move. He continues, “I am already… an anomaly amongst my kind. I was not created to have these sorts of simple domesticities, and I feared what would occur if I overstepped my bounds.” His words leave you with more questions than answers, but you know better than to prod the mer. Anomaly amongst his kind? He had mentioned brothers before his disappearance. You wonder what the others may be like.

Seeking to comfort the giant as he speaks (and partially out of scientific curiosity), you run a hand over his gill covers again. A soft gasp leaves the merman before he catches your hand in his, withdrawing just enough to look down at you. You give him a shy, cheeky smile.

“...as you are now,” he jests, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you say, not even remotely apologetic.

Corvus lets out a soft huff in response, when his eyes focus on the silver chain around your neck. He uses a talented claw to fish the raven pendant from underneath the neckline of your shirt, gazing upon it with the same fondness you had seen just before he fled. Before you can question the look, you’re shocked by the smile he gives you: a genuine grin, eyes crinkled at the outer corners and sharp teeth visible. For the first time, you see that he has fangs, the tips of canines poking into his lower lip. 

His eyes flick back up to yours, and his smile softens. Corvus croons, “I must apologize again for what I have taken from you.”

You’re confused by his statement, tilting your head at him. “What do you mean?”

The merman gently tips up your chin with a knuckle, keeping his claws away from the skin of your delicate neck as he leans forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips. It’s unpracticed and clumsy, Corvus being so much larger than you, but the cold taste of the sea and ocean minerals has you addicted. A delicate hand cradles your face when you lean into him, and the moment ends all too soon.

“I am here, and I will not be pulling such an imprudent stunt ever again,” Corvus promises as he pulls away.

“Thank you,” you whisper breathlessly, before nestling yourself into the crux of his neck and shoulder. 

The tender moment warms you, the shaking in your body finally coming to a stop. Your clothes may be soaked and salty, but the soft bed beneath and gentle embrace of the mer ease you. You let out a soft giggle that catches Corvus’s attention, and when the merman lets out a questioning hum, you remark, “If you ever do that again, I’m getting my boating license and hunting you down myself.”

Corvus hums from above you, knuckles tracing up and down your back. “From what I have learned, I should expect no less.”

-----------------------------------

HI PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME FOR THE ENDING OF THE LAST FIC I PROMISED I WOULD FIX THINGS

This took far longer than expected I am so sorry but I hope everyone likes it!!

[Part 6]

[nekoannie-chan]

Regrets

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant! Reader.

Word count: 1545 words.

Summary: Steve had made a decision, but another fact will make he realizes it was the wrong one, can he fix it?

Warnings: some smut references, nothing explicit, mention of deaths of characters, angst, sad.

A/N: This is my entry to the @distractedgemini‘s Kay’s Decade of Music Writing Challenge with the song prompt #35:

“Someone like you” by Adele.

And my entry to the @kitkatd7 ‘s Kits’ 250 Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt #1:

“Don’t you understand? You were her happy ending”.

And my entry to @jtargaryen18 ‘s 30 days of Chris.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

  I heard that you're settled down That you found a girl and you're married now I heard that your dreams came true Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you

 2005

 You came into your house after returning from school, everything was supposed to have changed, the mutants no longer had to hide, and weren't taken to the Garland Detention Center.  

"I'm home," you said after closing the door.  

There was no answer, maybe they didn't hear you.  

"Mom, Dad," you called as you walked down the aisle.

It was strange to you that they didn’t say anything, you returned to the hall, maybe they left you a message there and you hadn't seen it yet, there was no note, probably something had happened, some last-minute mission, although it was rare that you hadn't been warned.  

While they weren't your biological parents; Clarice and John had adopted you after yours were killed by the Purifiers when you were a baby, although the fact that you were adopted didn't care much because you were happy with your family, even your last name was Proudstar and they love you as her daughter.

But when you entered the kitchen, a scream came out of your throat; there were their bodies, you could tell at first glance that they had tried to defend themselves, even though it was not enough.   

"No! Mom! Dad!”

You tried to move them, you were hoping they'd still be alive, even if they were badly hurt, you didn't get the idea that they were dead.   

 I heard that you're settled down That you found a girl and you're married now I heard that your dreams came true Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you

 "There's someone here," a woman said.  

You didn't even hear when someone came into your house; for a moment you thought they were your parents’ killers who had come back or listened to you.  

“Are you Y/N? Y/N Proudstar, Clarice's, and John's daughter? The woman questioned.  

You nodded, you didn't know if to trust, you didn't even know who that woman was, within seconds a man came into the kitchen.

"When did you arrive? Fury asked you.  

"About 10 minutes ago," you replied scared.   

"You'll come with us, Coulson, accompany her to take her belongings and help her," Nick said.  

 "What? I'm not going anywhere, I don't even know who you are, how can I be sure you're not going to do me the same as my parents?”   

"We are S.H.I.E.L.D. we received your parents' message asking for help and that we take care of you.”   

“How do I know they are S.H.I.E.L.D.?”  

Your parents had told you everything, yet without proof, you couldn't believe them.

Fury and Coulson showed their IDs, they weren't lying, you sighed, you went to your bedroom followed by Coulson and you started storing things in suitcases and backpacks, they hadn't specified any item limits on you, so you'd take as much as you could.

 Old friend, why are you so shy? Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it I had hoped you'd see my face And that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

 2012

 You walked as fast as you could, that day you were late, you were carrying the report of the last mission you were gone to.   

You didn't pay attention around you, so you crashed into something hard, you thought it had been against a wall, because of the impact, you fell.  

"I'm sorry, miss, okay?” The ‘wall’ said to help you lift.   

"Captain, I'm sorry, I didn't see it," you apologized.   

Steve help you pick up the leaves, within a few seconds Coulson showed up.

"Agent Proudstar, the report," he asked.  

"I was already taking him to his office right now," you replied. 

"I see you've met, your next mission will be together," Coulson said.  

You knew who Steve was, but you remembered he didn't know who you were, you still didn't show up.  

"Agent Y/N Proudstar," you said, smiling.

 Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too "Don't forget me, " I beg I remember you said "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead" "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead"

 2018

 "I know we've lost a lot these days, but you remember I was going to ask you something the day Bruce called us. You know when Thanos...” 

"Yes," you answered while you were accommodating some things 

Steve took your arm to stop and pay attention to him.  

"What's going on?”   

"Marry me," he asked.  

"Just like that? Are you sure? I mean, you always told me you wanted Bucky to be in...” 

"We try to get everything back to normal, Thanos is dead we can't do much, but we can try to be happy and get on with our lives, it seems like that's all we can do.”  

"I think it's going to be enough for Nat to be there," you said. 

He took your answer as if he ‘I do’ and kissed you.

 You know how the time flies Only yesterday was the time of our lives We were born and raised in a summer haze Bound by the surprise of our glory days

 2023

 You looked down, you knew Steve had told you a lie... or worse he had lied to you all that time.   

As soon as he left you started running towards the trees, you didn't want to know anything anymore, if you could... If you could... you probably would have done the same thing and prevent your parents from being killed.  

“Y/N!” Bucky called you.  

You didn't listen to him, you kept running, you wanted to go as far as you could, you'd like to somehow forget everything and Bucky finally caught you, grabbed your arm, and stopped you.

"He's gone, he went with Peggy," you started sobbing.   

Bucky hugged you, he didn't know what to say or do to comfort you, he knew what you were saying was true.   

"He left us... Bucky, he left us...”  

Yes, Steve had left them, but Bucky didn't understand exactly what you meant, you hadn't even had a chance to say anything, you didn't know now what to do, the feeling was a thousand times worse than when you lost your parents.

 I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it I had hoped you'd see my face And that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over

 1947

 Steve peeked into the door of the house where Peggy was living.  

He saw her pass, at least now he was sure he hadn't got the wrong house; he needed a few more minutes before knocking the door and that's when he saw Daniel kissing Peggy and after the couple split up, she took the baby from the crib.

Peggy found her right partner after Steve had ended up on the ice...   

Steve stayed a week in that time, it would probably be a month after the last time he had seen them...  

You didn't expect to be welcomed... but he would do his best to recover what he had ruined.

 Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too "Don't forget me, " I begged I remember you said "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead"

 2019

 "Orphanages are full," you said while you're taking the last picture you'd been taken with your parents.  

"Everything is complicated," Steve replied, and he was reading the newspaper.

"We should adopt some or some of those little ones, I was very happy when Clarice and John adopted me," you said looking at the picture.  

"You think they're going to let us? We’re superheroes, I don't think they want to expose children to danger," Steve replied, taking his eyes off the newspaper.   

You kept thinking for a few minutes, Steve was right, you didn't know exactly if another threat would show up, no one knew.  

"You're right.”  

"But we can do some," Steve proposed, approaching you.  

"Captain," you said seductively.

 Nothing compares, no worries or cares Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

 2023

 Steve returned to where he belonged, took everyone by surprise, as soon as they heard the machine activate Bruce and Bucky immediately went to see what was going on, Bruce had installed it at the Compound in case it was necessary, they feared it would be some other enemy, no one expected him to return, as soon as they saw him a sepulchral silence took over the room.   

Bucky decided to take him outside, no one dared say what had happened. 

“And Y/N?” Steve asked

Steve had immediately noticed your absence, Bucky bit his lip, and he didn't know how to explain it.  

"Buck, and Y/N? I know she must be angry...” 

"She didn't make it on the last mission," he finally confessed.   

"What?”   

"Something went wrong and...”  

Steve turned around and started walking inland from the Compound.

“DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU WERE HER HAPPY ENDING…!”

Steve didn't keep listening to what his friend was saying, he went to the base and went straight into the room that you and he shared, and if he hadn't left... if it hadn't been so hollow head... you'd still be alive.  

He opened the drawer of your nightstand where you kept the photos, he wanted to see you, he saw that something flew out when he took out the album and it was frozen as soon as he saw the object.

She took the positive pregnancy test, the day he left, you seemed so nervous, so you insisted that he wasn't the one to return the Stones.  

There was only one way to get you back, this time I wouldn't ruin it, he took some things from the room and headed to where the time machine was.

 Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you "Don't forget me, " I beg I remember you said "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead"

 2010

 You knocked on Fury's office, you were sent to call, and you thought it was for a new mission.  

"Agent Proudstar, I'm glad you came," Nick said.  

“What do you need a Director?”   

"This is Steve Rogers, Captain America," Fury said, pointing to Steve.

"Captain, I'm Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Y/N Proudstar," you introduced yourself smiling.  

Your smile, Steve had missed her so much.  

He stretched out his hand to greet you and smiled, he was going to fix everything that had happened, he would love you again and no mistakes this time, and he was going to make sure you were happy together.

.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too "Don't forget me, " I begged I remember you said "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead" "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead"

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, George Barnes (Marvel), Sarah Rogers Additional Tags: Song Lyrics, Song fic, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, post Bucky falling, Alcohol, way too much of it, stroll through memory lane

Song is 'Talia' by King Princess

Hey, my love

I buried you a month or two ago

I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor

That you're waiting there for me

***

“You punk alright?”

Steve glanced up to see an outstretched hand and he let the stranger pull him to his feet.

“Thanks”, he mumbled. He lost the fight. Again.

“Come on.” The other boy pulled Steve behind him and all but pushed him on the steps of the school. “You're good.”

“Right”, Steve scoffed. It was only the third time this week, Steve had found himself seated on his behind, after some bully didn't get the meaning of simple personal boundaries and being a decent person.

“I mean it”, the other boy assured him. “You got a few good punches in. I got just one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the hell would you fight that guy? He's easily triple your size and his fist has about the same size as your head.” He looked at Steve the same way his Mum always did, a mixture of concern and exasperation.

“He's a bully”, Steve just shrugged.

“Yeah, I know. But he won't stop bullying, just cause some scrawny punk tries to punch him in the face.”

“You sound like my Ma...”

“And she sounds like a poor woman, having to deal with you. But well, now I'm looking out for you.”

“Huh?” Steve looked at the other guy. Dark eyes, even darker hair and a smile from ear to ear, showing where one of his front teeth had fallen out.

He just shrugged and got up. “I'm your new best friend and look after you from now on. You punk.”

“You're a jerk”, Steve shot back, but the smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you have no idea... Come on, I'll walk you home.”

Back home, his Mum was all over him. “Steven Grant Rogers, how often do I need to tell you not to get into fights!”, she tutted, as she cleaned his face up.

“But he was a bully!”

“And you're a sick kid”, Sarah sighed and cupped his face. “I'm just worried that one of these days you're gonna get hurt real badly.”

“Well, I have a new best friend now”, Steve grinned proudly. “He says he'll look out for me.”

“That is wonderful. Who is he?”

“He and his family just moved here from Indiana, they actually live just down the street.”

“And what's this young man's name?”

Huh. Steve stilled as realization hit that he and his new best friend have skipped over one quite important detail... “No idea... I'll ask him tomorrow in school.”

“You do that”, Sarah laughed. “Until then, I got new pencils and there is this empty space just by the fridge...”

***

If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you

but it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

***

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

The grin dropped from Bucky's face and in one quick motion he dove behind Steve's bed and probably somewhere underneath it. He had barely disappeared, when the door opened and Mr Barnes stormed inside.

“Steve, where is my son?”

“I don't see him”, he just shrugged.

“That wasn't my question and you know it. But since I don't feel like searching through your room, you can tell that young man that he is in deep trouble, and can kiss his allowance for the next week goodbye.”

“That's not fair!”, Bucky protested as he appeared from behind the bed again. “It wasn't even my fault, it was all on Becca!”

“Yes, I am sure that you sister burned her own doll's hair.”

Buck just shot a skew grin back at his dad.

“Right then”, Mr Barnes cleared his throat. “There are two options, I'm feeling gracious today so you can choose. You can either pay for the repairs or you'll be kept from Steve for the next month.”

“WHA...” Both boys stared at the man with wide open eyes. Bucky, being kept away from Steve? They'd be dead within a week!

“Fine, I'll pay for Becca's stupid doll”, he grumbled and, his head hung low, he trudged towards his father. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“I know you are. Now, you're coming home with me, you have a sister to apologize to and we're not done talking yet.”

Ouch. Steve knew exactly what 'talking' referred to, as did Bucky, who flinched and hid his hands behind his back.

“Have a nice evening, Steve”, Mr Barnes greeted him and walked out the door. He had his arm around Bucky's shoulder to make sure that the boy wouldn't run off. Buck only shot Steve a small smile, before following his Dad.

“Morn, punk”, Bucky greeted him, as they walked to school together.

“Hey, jerk”, Steve shot back. “You alright?”

“Yeah”, Buck waved it off, “got only two with the ruler and spend the entire evening alone in my bedroom to do some quiet contemplation.”

“Oh?” Steve grinned up at his friend. “And what did you quietly contemplate?”

“That you're a punk.” With his arm around Steve's shoulder, the two boys disappeared in the school building.

***

I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you

At the foot of my bed

If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you

but it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

***

“I brought you soup!” Steve hadn't even realized that his bedroom door had opened, when Buck stood right in front of his bed, a steaming bowl in his hands. “My Mum made it, with potatoes and cabbage.”

“I'm not hungry. And you shouldn't be here or you'll get sick”, Steve sighed, before a coughing fit took him.

“Right”, Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly to hide his worry, and helped Steve to sit up. “I've been around your viruses and germs and shit for about eight years. I think I'm immune to all things Steve by now.”

“'Cause that's how it works...”

“At least that's how friendship works”, Buck made clear, sat himself opposite Steve on his creaky bed and put the bowl of soup in his lap. “I will feed you, so don't test me, punk.”

“Fine”, Steve shrugged and opened his mouth.

After a moment of shocked and surprised silence, Bucky laughed so hard, he almost dropped the bowl. “You're impossible!”, he giggled, but complied and fed Steve his soup.

“You know, if you don't get that job at Mr Johnson's workshop, you could go into nursing”, Steve grinned, once he felt like he was filled to the brim.

“If all my patients are as horrible as you, I will have to be send to the asylum.”

“Don't worry, I'd visit you.”

“And bring me a file, so I can escape?”

“I'll bake it into a nice cake”, Steve assured him.

“Oh god.” Buck's face dropped at the pure implication of Steve in the kitchen. “You'll burn the house down!”

“Ha, ha”, Steve deadpanned, before another coughing fit took him

“Did you see the doctor already today?” Sometimes Steve was really surprised by how easy Bucky could switch from teasing to concern and genuine worry.

Since the words were stuck somewhere in his throat, Steve just nodded.

“And?”

Steve knew exactly what Bucky was aiming for, but he didn't want to worry him, so he just shrugged.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I know exactly when you're lying, so I swear to God, tell me what the doctor said, or I'll tell Ruthie that you're in love with Ms Nelson.”

Oh, come on! With a groan, Steve just fell back on the bed. Whatever you told Bucky's sister Ruth at breakfast was common knowledge by lunchtime. And if he told her that Steve was in love with their Mathematics teacher... That would be social murder.

“Fine...” He turned his face just enough, so he didn't have to look at Bucky. “20:80.”

“Shit.”

When the doctor told him earlier today, Steve just wanted to cry. He's never had such bad chances at making it through the night and he had never before been that scared to close his eyes.

“Well then.” Bucky put the soup away and made himself comfortable next to Steve on the bed. “What do you want to do?”

“Not die...”

“That's obvious”, Buck shot back, trying – and failing – to mask his fear. “But I mean right now. I can tell you about school, I could read to you, if you want.”

“Just 'cause you got an A in reading...” Even though it hurt, Steve couldn't help his eyeroll. If he weren't overtaken by coughing fits, he too would have an A in reading.

“I can also sing to you!”

Oh, heaven's no. Steve's face just dropped and Buck started laughing. “I know, I know... Torturing cats sounds nicer than my singing. I am more of a dancer after all.” He flailed his arms a little, as if he were guiding a girl over the dance floor.

In the end he did start reading Sherlock Holmes, until Steve's tiredness won.

“Love you, jerk”, he whispered, just before sleep took him.

“Love you too, punk.”

And then it went dark.

Steve opened his eyes to his Mum by his bedside and Buck, lying half on top of him, snoring. And that not just softly.

“Morning, love”, his Mum smiled.

“Hey, Ma.” He made it through another night, he beat the odds again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, Steve mumbled and gently squeezed his Mum's hand.

“That I believe. It's ok to fall asleep again, me and James are both here to look after you.”

“Ok.” He even managed a weak smile as he closed his eyes again. Still deep asleep, Buck scooted a little closer against Steve and held tightly onto the smaller boy.

Yeah, he'd be just alright here.

***

I can see your dancing, I can lay down next to you

At the foot of my bed

If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you

But it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

***

“It is with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to Sarah Rogers, a formidable woman, wife and mother. It was her mission in life to save others, no matter what the consequences for her own life. This spirit, the fighting for the weakest amongst us, is how we will remember her.”

Steve sat out on the fire escape, staring out over the busy street underneath him. He didn't even bother to try and fight the tears that made their way down his cheek.

She had fought for the longest time against the illness. What made everything worse was that Steve couldn't get to her, not really at least. With his non-existent immune system, he was forced to stay behind glass windows, unable to hold her hand like she had done for him time and time again. After she was there for him all his 18 sick and almost dying years, he couldn't be there the one time she needed him.

He tucked his knees closely against his chest, as the wind picked up. “You'll catch your death”, she'd say, “just come inside, before the coughing starts again.” If he closed his eyes, Steve could almost hear her say it.

“You'll catch your death.”

That wasn't his Mum. He didn't need to look up though, to know that it was Bucky who climbed out to him. However, instead of trying to talk Steve into climbing back inside and have a warming cup of tea, Buck wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled Steve in.

They just sat in silence and for the first time in days, maybe even weeks, Steve didn't feel like the world was gonna come crushing down on him if he wasn't strong for everyone around him. With Buck, he didn't need to be strong, he could be taken care of instead.

***

If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you

but it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

***

“I still can't believe that that scrawny little punk that never backed away from a fight, is now America's new favourite hero”, Bucky chuckled as they sat around the fire.

“Trust me, I can't believe it myself”, Steve laughed, before emptying his cup.

“Ma would be really proud”, Buck eventually smiled. “She always fought for the little ones and now her little boy's following in her foot steps.”

“She raised me right. Both of us”, he added.

“Yeah...”

They were silent for a while, just staring into the flames, as memories of years long ago passed back through Steve's mind.

“You know”, he broke the silence, “when we first met, Ma was so confused about some kid from Indiana just picking up random boys from the street.”

“In her defence, it's exactly what I did”, Buck laughed.

“Why, though?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you pick me? What, about that breathless, dirty, sick, little beat-up loser, screamed: I need to look out for him now?”

“Exactly that”, Buck shrugged, “you were a breathless, dirty, sick, little, beat-up loser. Someone had to look out for you. But just to make one thing perfectly clear.” Buck locked eyes with him and the warm nostalgia in his expression made way for something almost scolding. “Just because you are now a super human, doesn't mean I have to let you do all sort of crazy shit, because that, my friend, is never gonna happen.”

“Yes, Ma”, Steve moaned and rolled his eyes, before the grin broke through.

“Thank you”, Buck grinned back, “for that wonderful compliment. If I manage to be half the person that Sarah Rogers was...”

“You already are”, Steve made clear. “At least to me.”

“Which is more than enough”, Buck smiled back and pulled Steve into a hug. “Love you, punk.”

“Love you, too, jerk.”

***

If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you

but it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

***

The loud bang of the empty bottle, as it shattered on the bare wall, echoed through the apartment. It was a little solace that the pieces flew all through the room, glittering ever so slightly in the lamp's glow.

But Steve didn't give a fuck about the aesthetics.

What he did give a fuck about, was the fact that he still didn't feel anything.

Four bottles. Four bottles of whiskey now lay broken on the ground and Steve didn't even feel the slightest tinge of being drunk. He could have had water and the result'd be the same: He was sitting in his barren room, feeling heartbroken and so out of place, and he couldn't even drown his sorrows in alcohol.

Didn't mean that Steve would stop trying.

Maybe whiskey bottle no five, which he opened and took a generous sip from, would change something. Maybe whiskey bottle no five would grant him the gentle buzz, that he was craving. Maybe whiskey bottle no five would offer the light-headedness that would help Steve relax. Maybe whiskey bottle no five would allow Steve to just close his eyes, let the alcohol do its job and take him into dreamless sleeps. Maybe whiskey bottle no five would mush his brain enough for Steve to stop seeing Bucky's face, a grimace of fear and panic, as he fell. Maybe whiskey bottle no five would be intoxicating enough for Steve to forget, even if only for five minutes.

Or maybe, whiskey bottle no five would be the one to let Steve finally wake up next to Buck again.

***

Hey, my love

I buried you a month or two ago

I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor

That you're waiting there for me

But it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

[evakuality]

Recently I saw an ask on another blog that had a bunch of blatant biphobia in the midst of a message against homophobia and fetishization of gay men. As a pan person I am just so tired of the subtle bi/pan phobia that seems to be everywhere. If there's one thing straight and gay people can come together on, it's bashing bi/pan people. I see it too often in Skam fics, especially around Even, and some of it is called out and some is not. Do you have any thoughts on this?

Oh anon, I’ve been sitting on this for a few days and I’m sorry.  It’s just so big and overwhelming a topic and as a bi person myself I find all this very hard to talk about objectively.  Having said that, I’ll give it a go.  First, please come back about fics and what you see in fics because I’ve been scanning my brain and I can’t remember anything specific.  I do know that back before I had to pull back from reading so much due to mental overload I did get a sense that there’s a sort of accepted way to show Even in fics and that sometimes that expected way can veer into ‘he’s going to cheat’ territory.  Is that what you mean?  Or something else?  I’m happy to talk more about it if I get a little more direction.

The thing is, as a whole I agree with you.  Bi/panphobia is so endemic that I see it everywhere and sometimes it can feel like maybe I’m just oversensitive and seeing it when it’s not really there.  But then I think about it and I notice some things that can be really blatant and then I remember that yeah actually, it’s a thing and it’s so accepted in some ways that people casually do it without even necessarily meaning to.  Take Skam itself, for instance.  In my meta series, I happen to be up to the last clip of episode 2 and since I’m watching them within context of the episodes I’ve come up against the song ‘That Girl’ while preparing that meta.  And I actually like the song, I like the music, I like the way it sounds and I’m sure it was very heartfelt for the singer as he explored his own complicated feelings about the situation he was apparently in.  It’s just … really really bi/panphobic.  

This idea that bi/pan people can’t be trusted to stay within a relationship with someone of the same gender because being with someone of the opposite gender is easier is so insulting.  It’s really hard not to take that personally, particularly as someone who didn’t even come to terms with the idea that I am bi until after I was married to someone of the opposite gender.  Then, of course, it’s not just the song itself, it’s that it’s so specifically and explicitly tied to Isak and Even, with the suggestion that Isak thinks this way (the song starts playing as he’s watching Even and Sonja together, after all).  I know that at the time they wanted to create some tension around Even to make everyone wonder if he really could or would be interested in Isak and stay with him even if he was.  It’s just.  It sucks that they used something so explicitly bi/panphobic to do that.  

And obviously, later in the show we also have the age old and really damaging idea that bi/pan people like Even will a) cheat on their partner and b) go back to their opposite-gender partner if things go a bit wrong with their new same-gender partner.  The messages in the song are backed up by the text itself later.  As much as I like to minimize what happens (Even does tell Sonja immediately after he spends that first day with Isak, after all), the fact is that he was still with Sonja when he was actively pursuing Isak and they were still together when they kissed.  Then he did go back to her when Isak hurt him with his ‘mentally ill people’ line.  Then later, we’re to take Sonja’s words at face value when she says Even never really loved Isak, that he was just a sick idea.  That all buys into this stereotype of bi/pan people as fickle and untrustworthy.  And again, I know they did all this to play on the audience about how real what Even felt was and to hide what was really going on.  I get that from a storytelling PoV it works to muddy the waters and misdirect the audience.  It’s just, again, they bought into bi/pan stereotypes to do it and it sucks.  

So, to be totally honest with you, I’m not surprised that this sort of attitude has seeped into the fandom.  It’s hard when we watch media and we are conditioned to perceive things as more ‘true’ when they come from the main PoV.  So, not to get too off track here, we get Noora’s relationship in S2 romanticized when it shouldn’t be because there were some really harmful messages in there about ‘healthy’ relationships, and we get Isak being shown as being a bit bi/panphobic when they tie that song directly to him and even in the kitchen later when he calls Even out on Sonja.  And, obviously for Isak he has reasons for the way he feels.  It makes sense that he confronts Even about Sonja and his tendency to go back to her because the show did it already.  The show set that up.  But what that does is give the show’s audience, and by extension the fandom, permission to also treat Even in a bi/panphobic way.  Because, unlike Isak’s ideas around pride and what it means to be gay, the show never actually addresses this issue.  But that’s because the show itself obviously isn’t aware it has this issue.  

And that’s the biggest problem I think.  This attitude is so entrenched in our society, and so generally accepted, that I’m not sure we’ll ever recover from it.  But it would be nice, yes, to go a short time without running up against it in my media and my fandoms.  I feel you, anon.  It’s hard to read that stuff about your representation.  It’s hard to see your representation shown the way Even sometimes is both by his show and by his fandom.  There are enough bi/pan writers and creators in this fandom that I think there’s still a reasonable amount of fic, art etc that deals with this well.  But when a lot of people are a little uncritical of the media we consume and take its messages at face value … well, it’s difficult when that media is unconsciously perpetuating the stereotypes that hurt us because it does then seem to come out in the fanworks people make.  

Having said that, I know I’m not immune.  My Isak can sometime be a little bi/panphobic because to keep him in character and refer back to the source, sometimes that stuff does slip in there.  I try to ‘teach’ him about it, but sometimes it’s hard to do and I’m not sure that what I try always works, and so I’m not saying any one of us is perfect.  So I guess it’s just being aware of the stereotypes that do exist for lgbt+ people and being aware of whether we’re unthinkingly endorsing them or not.  It’s thinking about whether we’re showing lgbt+ people having happy endings alone together behind closed doors because that’s what’s expected, that it’s still somehow something to be hidden.  It’s checking that we’re not perpetuating the idea of bi/pan people as flighty and incapable of settling down.  It’s about thinking, basically, rather than just accepting what our media gives us without question.