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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧-𝐨𝐟𝐟)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alpha!Bucky Barnes x naive omega!Reader, also featuring: dark alpha!Steve Rogers

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, dubcon, dark Steve, poyt!Steve (yes, he is a warning), mentions of smutt, 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day at college and Bucky, a popular alpha, asks for your number. (This is a spin-off of my fic Preying on You Tonight, exploring what would have happened if Bucky had gotten to omega before Steve. You do not need to read that fic to understand this one).

𝐀/𝐍: It’s finally here! As the writer, all I sincerely ask is for you to read it till the end. I put a lot of hard work into this and it’s been a long time coming. I really hope you give this fic a chance, and I hope you enjoy! This is 16.8k words.

It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay. You quietly chant under your breath as you make your way into the intimidatingly large lecture hall. World Politics. It’s a senior class, mostly males, majority alphas. But you’ve managed to get in – the only freshman who was accepted – and it makes your heart flutter with excitement. Maybe they’ll all be impressed, you think to yourself, clutching your bookbag tightly as you make your way inside.

Everyone’s already sat down or milling about in groups. You shoot a few smiles here and there, hoping someone might smile back – but everyone seems busy catching up with their own friends. You sigh – of course, you don’t expect to make friends right away. But you probably will soon.

There’s a pack of intimidating looking guys in the back of the room, they draw your attention because of how loud they’re being as they laugh and joke around. Football players, you think to yourself – they’re all wearing blue jerseys with the university emblem. And they’re all so big and broad. There’s a blond one who seems bigger and scarier than all of them, and there’s also a brunet – also big and intimidating but he looks slightly more laid back than the others.

You snap your head away as soon as he looks in your direction, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re confident you’ll make friends, but it probably won’t be anyone from the resident campus jock group. Not wasting any more time, you make your way to the front of the lecture hall and take a seat in the very first row. Hopefully, someone else would join you and you could strike up a conversation.

You’re arranging your pens in colour order when your phone vibrates.

Peter: Good luck, babe! I know first days can be hard, but you’re gonna smash it! See you tonight!

Smiling softly, you text your boyfriend a quick response before putting your phone away – the lecture is about to start and you don’t want to miss a single word.

A chorus of loud snickers makes you look back over your shoulder. It’s the group of jock alphas – they’re only a couple of rows behind you now, laughing over something while they look in your direction. You suddenly feel self-conscious, looking over your hoodie for any stains, eyes scanning around your vicinity for anything remotely funny.

You’ve just given up and gone back to opening your notebook when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s the brunet alpha, he’s standing next to your desk with a cocky smile on his face.

“Hey, newbie.”

You smile shyly, “Hi.”

“YOU’RE SUCH A DOG, BARNES!” One of the alpha jocks hoots from the back and all the rest of the pack guffaws too, some even making barking sounds. It causes the smile to freeze on your face.

The brunet laughs in his friends’ direction before turning back to you, “Ignore them. You a transfer student or something?”

“No. I’m a freshman. This is my first day.”

“Freshman, huh?” He licks his lips. He’s got nice lips; you think to yourself before inwardly shaking your head in alarm. You have a boyfriend, you remind yourself. But the brunet in front of you also has nice eyes, you can’t help but notice. Light blue and shining, along with scruffy brown hair and a smattering of facial hair. “What’s a little freshman like you doing here? You realise this is a senior class? Are you lost, newbie?”

“No, not lost, I’m meant to be here.” You tell him firmly, “I was interested in this class so I applied for it. I was the only freshman to be accepted.” You hope it doesn’t sound like you’re boasting, you can’t help but feel proud about it.

The brunet nods thoughtfully, “No kidding. You must be very smart.”

You shrug modestly.

“What’s your name, newbie?”

You tell him and he nods, repeating it to himself slowly as if he’s savouring the word.

“I’m James.” He says, “I mean, everyone calls me Bucky but you can call me James.”

You giggle nervously, “Wh-Why do I get to call you that?”

His smile is lop-sided and lazy, and you can’t help but stare. It brightens up his whole face, painting an image of mischief across his features. But he’s not intimidating, not like his friends who continue to hoot and yell behind him. You feel fire on your cheeks because he looks kind of… cute.

Wait. What?

“Pretty girls like you are allowed to call me James.”

The professor chooses that moment to clear his throat as he begins to start up the PowerPoint presentation.

“Well, anyways, newbie. I just came over to say hello. And while I’m here, I was wondering if I could borrow a pen. I forgot mine and you seem to have… a lot.” He gestures to your collection of pens – you have one in just about every colour of the rainbow.

You nod eagerly – you hadn’t expected an alpha jock to be the first one to speak to you at college, but you weren’t complaining.

“Sure! Take your pick,” You say enthusiastically “The blue one doesn’t work too well, but the rest are all good! If you prefer ink pens over ballpoint, I’ve got those too!”

“What about this pink one?”

“Oh,” Your response is less than enthusiastic, “I mean… I always use the pink one. But if you really want it–”

He laughs, reaching out and patting your hand softly. And the touch, despite being seemingly innocuous, sends thrills up and down your spine. You can’t help but think how much bigger his hand is than yours.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You use the pink one. I’ll take this one instead.” He grabs a green pen, and that’s when you get a strong whiff of his scent. Smoky yet dewy – like a cosy fireplace on a winter morning. Fresh like snow mixing with the earth, like cold rain mingling with a special kind of musk.

Bucky seems to notice how you suddenly pause, your nose twitching as you repeatedly inhale his scent. He chuckles softly, waving a hand in front of your face, “Hey, you still there?”

You shake your head, giving yourself a moment to gather yourself before looking up at him, “Yeah, uh. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Because the lecture’s about to start, and you look like someone who doesn’t want to miss a word.” He winks, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send shivers of excitement up and down your spine, “Well, thanks for the pen, newbie.”

And then he goes back to join his friends, leaving you with a lightness in your heart, a spark in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You’d always thought jocks were mean, but Bucky – James – had been nice. Maybe it was a sign, a sign that your first year of university perhaps wouldn’t be as daunting as you originally thought.

You risk a glance back at him. He’s sat a few rows behind you, next to his blond friend. The two couldn’t be more different – with Bucky sitting back, relaxed and laughing, the pen you gave him dangling out of his mouth like a cigarette. The blond sits up straight with rigid posture, and he looks sullen, a touch of a scowl on his face as he looks at Bucky. And then he turns, piercing blue eyes glaring right at you.

You turn back to look in front. That can’t be right. This blond jock doesn’t even know you. Sighing, you begin to take notes, the world of politics taking over as you excitably fill page after page.

You’re immensely satisfied when the class ends – it was everything you wanted it to be and more. With the risk of sounding like a nerd – and you are a nerd, you’ll happily admit it – you’d enjoyed every second of the lecture, soaking in every word like a sponge. If this is what all university classes were going to be like, you’d stay forever.

“You look happy, newbie.” It’s Bucky again; the rest of his group is milling around by the exit, and you can’t deny the thrill you feel at the fact that he hung back with you.

“I am happy, wasn’t that just the most fascinating lecture ever? I mean, I’d heard things about this professor, that he’s so mesmerising to listen to. And it’s true!” You sigh almost dreamily, hugging your fresh notes close to your chest, “I feel like I’ve learnt more in this past hour than I did in the entirety of my high school history class.”

Bucky just stares at you, a smile on his face that reaches all the way up, making the sides of his eyes crinkle.

“What?” You ask consciously when he continues to just… look at you.

“Nothing. You’re just very cute, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic. Not like us jaded seniors.”

“BUCKY, LET’S GO.” As if on cue, the blond alpha bellows across the lecture hall.

Bucky seems wholly unperturbed, even as you jump from the loudness of the blonde’s tone.

“Your friend’s calling you,” You shuffle from one foot to the other, unable to ignore how the blond alpha is glaring at the pair of you all the way from the doorway, “He seems really impatient.”

With a wave of his hand, Bucky dismisses this claim, “Oh, don’t mind Steve. He’s just pissy these days because his girlfriend’s being a bitch.”

Oh. You have no idea what to say to that, so you just continue to pack up your things.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m gonna head over to the library,” You answer excitedly, “I’ve heard it’s really, really big. One of the biggest in the country. I got a glimpse of it during orientation, but I’ve got the rest of the day free so today I’m gonna sit in there and catch up on some reading, and may–”

“Why don’t I walk you there?” The brunet offers. And it’s his quiet confidence that gets to you, the way he’s got this small smile on his face, as if he knows you won’t refuse him, “I have a class in that direction anyways. Steve does too. We could both walk you there.”

You glance once more at Steve, who – believe it or not – is still glaring at you. Or are you imagining it? You’re about to respond when a tall blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform skips up to him. They kiss, and then leave the lecture hall hand-in-hand. You turn back to Bucky, who shrugs.

“Well. Scratch that. I guess it’s just you and me then, newbie. C’mon. I’ll give you a campus tour.”

Talking with Bucky is surprisingly simple. He’s easy-going and laidback, completely cool in the way he makes conversation. Talking about himself but at the same time asking you questions about your life. You’ve always been shy but you find yourself at ease with him, you find yourself laughing at his jokes… You even catch yourself staring at him more than a few times, completely captured by his pretty eyes and lazy smile.

“I’m mostly friends with everyone on the football team, but Steve’s my best friend,” He nods at the blond alpha who’s walking a few paces ahead of you two, hand-in-hand with the cheerleader who you assume is his girlfriend. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And then there’s Sam, but he’s hungover so he didn’t come in today.” Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, “Classic Sam.

The walk to the library is over a little too soon.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the next lecture. Thanks for walking with me.” You say, backing away but not wanting to completely leave just yet.

“Princess, wait.” He grabs your hand, yanking you back till you’re only a few inches away from him. And maybe it’s the shock due to the fact that he called you princess, but you just… let him do it. He grins down at you.

“You’re not gonna leave without giving me your number first, are you?”

You giggle nervously, and you’re surprised that you have to swallow down the words ‘yes, I’ll give you my number’ which are on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you shake your head slowly, “I, uh, I have a boyfriend.”

The alpha blinks, hand freezing midway through running through his hair. But then he relaxes, and that familiar lazy smile returns to his face. “So? Can’t friends save each other’s numbers? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

You feel heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, “Oh. Of course. I guess we are. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“No worries, princess.” He takes your phone, quickly putting in his number and texting himself from yours before handing it back to you. “Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy, by the way. But I’m sure he won’t mind if I text you tonight, right?”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just winking at you before taking off. And you stand outside the steps of the library and watch him for a second. He catches up with Steve and gives him a hard thump on the back before falling into step next to him. Steve still has a scowl on his face but it slowly dissipates, and you watch for a moment as the two alphas talk animatedly. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you earlier, it was clear as day that the they were best friends.

It takes you a while to realise that you’re staring, and you quickly retreat into the library, the magical pull of books and knowledge sucking you in and making you forget about everything else.

***

“I’d say it was a good first day, as far as first days go.” You deduce, walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. You hand it over to Peter, who’s scrolling through Netflix in search of the perfect movie. Which is an impossible task since the two of you had seen practically everything Netflix had to offer – you guys had more movie nights then you did date nights. Actually, you can’t remember the last time you and Peter had gone out on a date. The thought seemed weird… you were much more comfortable sitting on the couch and gorging on popcorn and talking the night away with him – like you were right now.

“That’s good. Did you make any friends?”

You think back to Bucky’s twinkling blue eyes and feel a jolt of electricity run through you. Bucky was your friend, right? He’d said so. But for reasons you don’t quite understand, you only clear your throat and shake your head. “No. I talked to a few people but that’s all. I mean, it’s only day one, right? Nobody makes friends on day one.”

“True.” Peter agrees, his mouth full of popcorn. “Okay, so, I’m thinking it’s a teen dystopian movie kind of night. Hunger Games or Divergent?”

Your brow furrows while you think, “I don’t like Divergent and I’ve seen The Hunger Games way too many times.”

“Okay, how about Catching Fire?”

“The ending of that one makes me sad.”

You bicker back and forth before settling down with Alice in Wonderland, and the popcorn is half finished by the time the beginning credits start rolling. And that’s when your phone vibrates.

James: Hey, princess. You busy?

A smile touches your lips before you cast a quick glance at Peter. He’s half laid down on the other end of the couch with his eyes locked on the screen. You swallow down the guilt – you know Bucky is just your friend but it still feels kind of wrong to be texting him when you’re meant to be watching a movie with Peter. But there’s a large part of you that wants to answer, and it doesn’t take long for that part of you to win the inner conflict inside your head. You quickly text back:

You: Hey! I’m currently watching a movie with my boyfriend.

Your text is truthful, but you hope Bucky doesn’t think you’re dismissing him. His reply is almost instantaneous:

James: Aw, how cute. What movie is it?

You: Alice in Wonderland. Have you seen it?

You mentally kick yourself after you press send. What a dumb question – of course he’s seen it! Who hasn’t seen one of the most recognisable Disney movies of the last decade?

James: I have. I didn’t know you were such a big fan of cartoons, princess.

You feel the ends of your mouth tugging into a smile before you give Peter another glance. He’s polishing off the last of the popcorn, engrossed in Alice as she tumbles down the rabbit hole. You grab the empty bowl and stand up. “I’ll go make some more popcorn.”

Peter nods, “You want me to pause it?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You float into the kitchen and put another bag of popcorn in the microwave before taking a deep breath and looking down at your phone again.

James: Maybe we could watch a movie sometime? I’ve got a flatscreen in my room ;)

You feel a shiver go down your spine when you read his text, and you let yourself imagine it for a split second. Watching a movie with Bucky. In his bedroom. On his bed? You’d never been to a boy’s room before – except Peter, but he’d been your best friend all through high-school. Sure, he was your boyfriend now but you always do the same things you guys did when you were friends – just with added kissing and sometimes touching.

“Babe, you done?” Peter calls for you as if on cue.

Once more awash with guilt, you quickly type out a text:

You: I’m sorry, I should get back to the movie. Good night :)

You switch your phone off for the rest of the night, trying to focus on Alice’s adventures in wonderland, but the thought of Bucky dwindles at the back of your mind as if it’s there to stay.

***

You plan on avoiding Bucky the next day but that proves to be an extremely flimsy plan. You’re sitting in the front row when him and Steve and another guy – you assume it’s Sam – walk in. You get a pleasant whiff of Bucky’s scent before it’s overpowered by something stronger – the smell of firewood and a hot summer day. They walk by you, with Bucky giving you a small smile and a wink and Steve sucking in a breath, his nostrils twitching as he walks past you. Strange. What was his problem?

You still feel guilty about the previous night. Peter was your first ever relationship so you might not be the biggest expert on these types of things, but you’re sure that getting giddy over another guy texting you is not good girlfriend behaviour. You need to put a swift stop to it, starting now. You spend the rest of the lecture taking notes diligently, stuffing the thought of Bucky to the back of your mind.

When the class ends, you try to scurry away to the library. But you don’t get too far down the corridor before a hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you back.

“Princess, wait up. Where are you hurrying off to?”

“I – uh – I need to go to the library to print something.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.”

He looks at you for a handful of seconds before sighing and taking a step back, “This is about last night, isn’t it? My texts scared you off?”

You bite your lip, “James, I have a boyfriend.”

“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, shifting from one foot to the other before those icy blue eyes settle on you again. “I’ll be honest, princess. You’re so pretty, I thought I’d shoot my shot anyways.”

Your jaw drops, “B-But I have a boyfriend.”

He shrugs, looking virile and handsome with his facial hair and lazy smile, “That’s never stopped me before. I mean, it’s not really a big thing with me and my friends. If we want a girl, we go after her, boyfriend or not, it doesn’t matter to us.”

“Oh.” You don’t know whether to stay or just leave, and you’re debating over just that when Bucky pipes up again.

“Look, princess. I like you. And I have a hunch that you like me too. And as I said before, I usually don’t care if the girl I like has a boyfriend. But you’re different, I want to do right by you.” He strokes the palm of your hand with his thumb and it’s like you’re mesmerised by the feeling. “I’d really like to take you out sometime. But I can give you time to break up with your boyfriend first.”

You gasp, pulling your hand out of his grasp, “James Barnes! That’s so wrong. You know how awful of a person that would make me? And I barely know you!”

“Just think about it. I really like you.” He says earnestly, blue eyes sparkling and locking with yours as he grabs your hand again, “And breaking up with him will spare this guy the embarrassment of being with a girl who’s no longer into him.”

Your jaw drops open at his audacity, “That’s not true–!”

“Bucky, we have practice.”

Steve rounds the corner, stopping short when he sees the two of you so close, his eyes narrowing as they zero in on your intertwined hands.

“Gimme a sec.” Bucky answers, not even sparing Steve a glance, eyes unblinking as they stare at you meaningfully.

For the second time, you snatch your hand out of his grip. “I-I – uh – I have to go!” You do the easiest thing you can think of, backing away and getting the hell out of there. Bucky’s just dropped a huge bomb on you and Steve’s intimidating as hell, so you deem it best to put some distance between you and the two alphas as you speed-walk away from the situation.

“Why are you talking to that trashy omega?” You hear Steve mutter as you turn your back on them, and the hurtful words make your heart jolt.

“Hey, don’t call her that.” Bucky answers, and that’s the last thing you hear before you round the corner and escape into the comforting clutches of the campus library.

***

So, Bucky liked you. He liked you. As in, he wanted to take you out on a date. This information has you feeling giddier than it should. You’ve never known anyone to like you like that (except Peter) and never so brazenly. You can’t help but feel all light inside. A popular, handsome senior liked you!

But then, the flowy lightness inside you is overtaken by wracks of guilt, showering down on your heart like hard, jagged rocks. You’re with Peter. You like Peter. You can’t get happy over Bucky liking you when you’re with Peter. That’s just a fact.

You lay low for a couple of weeks, avoiding Bucky like he’s the plague. But you know his eyes are on you, glued to the back of your head during every lecture, when you keep your face pointedly facing forward and never look back at him. You can’t. You’re in a relationship. You have to respect it.

But then, things take a different turn than you ever expected them to.

Peter scores an internship at Stark Industries, which means he has to move to New York immediately. And you’re so happy for him, it’s what he’s been working towards and dreaming of for as long as you’ve known him. His goal of tackling the tech world is similar to your own goal of being the first person in your family to earn a university degree. You’re thrilled for him. But sitting on his bed and wistfully watching him pack, it’s like you both know what this means.

The break-up is mutual. Peter says that he’ll be busy with work, and you agree that you’ll be busy with college assignments too. And after one last movie night and a tearful goodbye, you both agree to try to remain best friends. He promises to come see you when he’s got a free moment, and you tell him you’ll travel up to New York once you’ve saved enough money to be able to afford it.

And then he’s gone. Off chasing his dreams and you couldn’t be happier for him.

But now you’re single. And what does that mean for you?

***

Bucky approaches you after spring break, sporting a healthy tan and messier hair. You’d overheard him and his friends talking earlier, so you knew they’d all flown to Cancun for the past week. Lucky them. You’d spent the break studying in your room, making notes for the next set of lectures to make sure you were well-prepared for them.

“Hello, princess. You’re looking extra beautiful today.”

You look down at your old hoodie and ratty leggings and wonder if he’s joking with you. “Uh, thanks?”

“I’m serious. You’re glowing, which can only mean one thing. You broke up with him, didn’t you?” Bucky leans down over your table, giving you a strong whiff of his wintery scent. It’s like freshly powdered snow and warm fire logs, enveloping around you like a welcome hug after your lonely spring break.

You purse your lips together, focusing on your notes except the lecture hasn’t started yet so you have nothing to write down except the date. But you’re determined not to look at him, “Actually, it was mutual.”

Bucky’s grin only gets wider, and to your surprise, he plops down on the empty seat next to you. Your eyes widen, “Wh-What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t sit next to you? Is this seat taken?”

Well, of course it wasn’t. You usually sat alone. Nobody really spoke to you apart from Bucky, but that was okay. It’s not like anyone was ever horrible to you either. Except Steve with that one comment that he’d made the other day. But you must have overheard him wrong.

“So, what did you do over spring break?” He asks.

You shrug, “I read up on the next few chapters on our syllabus.”

Bucky nods, “A quiet week, huh? Well, I wish I’d stayed back too.” He chuckles when he sees your raised eyebrow, “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Cancun’s beautiful, but it gets tiresome after a while. All Steve and Sam ever did was hook up with different girls. Constantly. Me? I just didn’t feel like doing that this time around.”

You frown, casting a short glance at Steve, except you quickly look away because he happens to be staring right back at you. But why was Steve hooking up with other girls? Didn’t he have a girlfriend? You mull over it for a second before you register the other thing Bucky had said. “Y-You didn’t feel like hooking up with anyone?”

The brunet clasps his hand over yours and shoots you a sparkling smile, “Why would I? When my girl wasn’t there with me?”

Bucky takes you out the following weekend. And you don’t know why you agree, when it’s so soon after your breakup with Peter. But when he asks you out, it just feels right, and the word “yes” is flying out of your mouth before you have the chance to think about it. Peter’s probably seeing other people too, you think to yourself. And the thought doesn’t bother you at all, because why shouldn’t Peter have his fun? He was single. And so were you.

Bucky presents you with a bouquet of pink tulips at the start of your date, and sits on your bed with an amused expression on his face while you quickly tend to them. Trimming the stems and finding a vase before setting them on your windowsill. “You look beautiful, princess.” He comments, making your cheeks feel like they’re on fire before he grabs your hand and takes you out.

The diner he takes you to is casual and pretty, only a few minutes outside of campus. The evening sunlight spills down through the window while Bucky brazenly holds your hands in his over the table – even when the waitress is taking your order! It makes you squirm, but in a pleasant kind of way. And he tells you about himself while you eat, how he knows he’s from a privileged family but always felt different growing up.

He tells you about all the mischief he and Steve got up to when they were kids, and then teens, and now young adults. And you can’t really imagine Steve, all stoic and mean and preppy-looking, getting up to any kind of mischief but you smile and nod anyways, loving how Bucky tells his stories in such an easy-going and charming way.

You’re a bit more guarded when he asks you about your childhood, though. You keep it brief and simple, outright evading certain details because you don’t want to get into it right now. But Bucky seems to understand, squeezing your hands before grabbing a napkin and wiping a spot of sauce on the side of your mouth.

He takes you to a nearby park after that. He buys a small loaf of bread so the two of you can feed the ducks. And he never lets go of your hand, and you can feel him watching you as you focus on the ducks gobbling up the pieces of bread. And then he grabs your chin and gently turns your face to him and he kisses you. And it’s sweet. Sweeter than it is with Peter. And you kiss him back, because you like how light and fluffy and exciting it feels to kiss Bucky.

It feels like you’re on cloud nine.

The dates get more frequent after that. Bucky walks you to class every day, holding your hand and talking to you about anything and everything. Like the latest report your class has been assigned, or his football team winning another game, or any new books you’ve read. You find yourself giggling and opening up a lot more, every shy bone in your body relaxing when you’re talking to him.

The kissing and touching becomes more frequent too. Often, he comes to your dorm room and things get hot and heavy. And oh, it’s so exciting feeling Bucky’s hands on you, and his expert kisses leave you breathless! He really was an incredible kisser, taking control and moving his tongue so lazily and perfectly against yours. But something within you always stops him before he can go any further.

“Bucky, please. I just got out of a relationship and I don’t know if I’m ready for sex.” You tell him truthfully one evening while he’s got you pinned down on your bed in the middle of a particularly passionate make-out session.

Bucky lies back down beside you while you fix the buttons of your cardigan which he’d almost had undone. He reaches down to adjust his boner through his jeans, “Princess, you’re killing me here. I want you so bad.”

You swallow, “I’m sorry, James. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

Light blue eyes smile down at you as the alpha sits up and grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t apologise, princess. I understand.”

“I just feel bad, I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on.” You duck your head, but he grabs your chin and lifts it up again, making you look at him.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve gone out this long with a girl without sleeping with her.” Bucky confesses, scratching his head with a sheepish look on his face. “I haven’t been a great boyfriend in the past, and my motives have usually been selfish.”

Your eyes grow wide, but you don’t say anything.

“I’m telling you this because I care about you, princess. I think you’re different.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and chucks you under your chin till you smile. “I like talking to you and spending time with you. You’re smart and beautiful and I know we haven’t been together long, but I really see a future for us.” He kisses you sweetly, and you’re too busy trying to tame the butterflies in your stomach to respond properly, but you try your best anyways.

“What I’m saying is, you can take all the time you need till you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll wait as long as I have to till you’re ready to have sex.” Bucky finishes earnestly, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and plant a million kisses on his face. He’s saying all the right things, everything a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend.

“You really mean all that?” You ask him softly.

“Yes, princess, I mean it. You’re my girlfriend, and I’ll wait for you for as long as you need.” Bucky looks earnest and sweet, and you hug him hard. You feel a mix of thrill and nervous energy flutter through you. It’s something you’ve never felt before. But it’s a good feeling, and you welcome it with open arms as Bucky continues to leave tiny kisses all over your face. Till you’re giggling against his lips and hugging him close, feeling lighter than a feather.

***

Being the girlfriend of a popular senior was not something you’d envisioned happening to you at the start of university. But Bucky made it feel so natural, introducing you to all his friends, holding your hand all the time and including you in all his plans. His friends are nice enough: Sam was a bit cold at first but he warmed up after a while. Thor was loud and funny, Ransom acted overly smart and confident but seemed to have a sensitive side too. Curtis was mysterious and Andy was kind of dopey, and they were all friendly with you.

But then there was Steve.

The blonde alpha glowered at you any chance he got. Whenever you were in his presence, you could feel his steely blue eyes boring holes straight through your skin. You always kept out of his way so you were unsure why he seemed to hate you. Bucky just said not to take it personally, that Steve was just going through a rough patch with his girlfriend and he didn’t hate you at all.

One day, you’d gone over to Bucky’s house where he – unfortunately – lived with Steve and Sam too.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve had demanded when he’d opened the door and seen you standing there.

“Uh… James to-told me to meet him here after my morning classes.” You explain, feeling oddly nervous around the big alpha. You’re naturally shy but you’d come out of your shell quite a bit ever since you’d started dating Bucky. But Steve was just so intimidating, standing there in just a pair of grey sweats that are slung low over his hips. You avert your gaze to the ground in a bid not to stare at his bare chest.

Steve regards you suspiciously before stepping aside and letting you in. And you feel his heated gaze still on you as you brush past him to get inside. And that’s when you hear him inhale sharply, a low rumble coming from his chest before he stumbles. You whip around just in time to see him recover, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Steve scoffs, “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Uh… You kinda just tripped?” You point out hesitantly, and the blonde alpha’s pale face goes crimson before he clears his throat.

“I did not trip.” He glowers through gritted teeth.

Okay then. You decide not to question his rude and erratic behaviour. “Where is James’ room?”

Steve glances upstairs before leaning against the kitchen counter, his intense gaze locking on you as his frown relaxes into a smirk. “He’s taking a shower right now. You should wait for him down here.”

“Okay.” You sit down at the kitchen table. The house is big, spacious and minimalistic in the way it’s decorated. The kitchen is modern and it’s clear that there’s only boys living here, because you can see a ton of takeout containers and microwave meals strewn across the countertops. Once you’re done observing your surroundings, you notice Steve still staring at you.

“So, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend now, huh?” He breaks the silence.

“Yes.”

“Strange. I never thought he’d go for someone like you.”

Your brows knit together into a frown as a pang of hurt echoes inside you, “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, and you try not to focus on his broad, muscular shoulders. But it’s not easy to just look at his face either, because he’s so intimidating. He runs a hand through his light hair, “Nothing, omega. Don’t worry your little head over it.

Your jaw drops open, “Don’t call me that, please. I have a name.”

“As if I care.”

God! It was like talking to an eight-year-old. You had no idea that Steve was this immature and rude, and it makes your blood boil. You’re just about to get up and find Bucky’s bedroom yourself when you hear a pattering of light footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Steve, I have to go. But promise you’ll text me tonight?” It’s a girl. You recognise her from college – you’ve definitely seen her around campus somewhere. But she’s definitely not Sharon. She skips up to Steve and plants a kiss on his cheek, and the alpha only responds with a grunt. You get a weird feeling inside you as you watch this exchange, but try your best to shake it off.

The girl stops to shoot you a smile. “Hey, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend, aren’t you? Nice to meet you!”

She leaves before you have a chance to reply, and you’re left staring at the back of her head as she shuts the door behind her, getting an eyeful of her hair which you vaguely notice is the same shade as yours. And it’s only when she’s gone that you realise your mouth is open in shock, and you slowly turn to Steve who looks wholly unbothered.

“Aren’t you going out with Sharon?” You can’t help but blurt out.

Steve raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as he continues to just stare at you. You feel hot all over, and you don’t know whether it’s because of his eyes on you or because of the sudden anger you feel at the blatant display of cheating you’ve just witnessed.

“That’s not fair on your girlfriend, Steve.” You whisper.

And all Steve does is stare at you, to the point where you feel waves of heat on your face. And then suddenly you’re hit with this overwhelming scent of burning firewood. A freshly mown lawn with a strong sun beating down on it, and smoky wood on a hot summer’s day. Your eyes widen as the intimidating alpha walks over to you, leaning down at the table where you’re sitting.

“I don’t remember asking for some lowlife omega’s opinion on my private business.” He says softly, but there’s danger and threat embedded in his words and it makes your blood run cold. But your nose can’t stop twitching as it takes in his heady scent, and you feel your mind cloud over and your limbs grow weak like jelly and–

“I’d appreciate it if you’d put a shirt on in front of my girlfriend, Stevie.” Bucky chuckles, elbowing past Steve and making his way over to you. He helps you up and plants a firm kiss to your lips. You’re still rattled by the blonde alpha, though, and distractedly kiss your boyfriend back. You can still feel Steve’s eyes on you, and it’s unnerving to say the least.

“You ready to go, princess?” Bucky tugs at your hand and you nod, allowing him to pull you out of the house. It’s only when the fresh outside air whips against your face that you seem to snap out of whatever trance you’re in. You swallow and shake your head as Bucky leads you to his car, and you only speak once both of you are inside.

“Steve did something awful.” You breathe.

Bucky frowns before squeezing your arm, “What? Did he touch you?”

“N-No, he…” You shake your head, feeling a wave of anger overtake you momentarily, “He had a girl over, James. He was cheating on his girlfriend!”

“Oh.”

The silence is louder than ever as Bucky starts up the car and backs out of the driveway. He puts his arm over the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, and it’s not until he’s on the main road that you huff:

“Is that all you have to say?”

Bucky grimaces, keeping his eyes glued to the road, “Look, Steve isn’t exactly in love with Sharon.”

“But she’s his girlfriend, Bucky. He shouldn’t be cheating on her either way!”

“I know, I know. What can I say?” He pauses, as if mulling over how to say his next words. “Look, princess. Steve’s young, he’s only in college. It’s what us guys do. Why have one piece of the pie when you can have the whole thing, you know? That sort of thing.”

It only takes Bucky about three seconds to realise the error in his words. You turn to stare at him in utter shock and horror. Was this really James? Your James? Who had said all the right things and been so sweet and gentlemanly all these weeks? Who had respected your boundaries and never questioned you or lashed out for wanting to wait?

“Is that why you’re so okay with us not having sex?” You say quietly. “Because you’re getting it from somewhere else?”

“What? No, sweetheart. No, that’s not it at all.”

Bucky turns into a random lane and stops the car before turning to you. You try to bat him off but he grabs both your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing kisses on your fingers and palms before yanking you into an embrace.

“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say.” He mumbles into your hair, and you try to find solace in his scent but it’s not strong enough right now. He kisses the top of your head before drawing back to make eye contact. “Princess, I’m not seeing anyone else behind your back, that I can promise you.”

“But how can I believe you? When it was so easy for you to justify what Steve’s doing?” You sniffle.

Bucky sits back in his seat and sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Look, it’s no secret that us alphas are all a bunch of assholes. We don’t really hide it, either. Steve’s cheating on his girl because, well, it’s almost normal for a lot of us to do that. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t slept with multiple girls without them knowing about each other in the past.”

You bow your head, not liking this at all. But Bucky grabs your chin gently, lifting it up so you look at him.

“But I’m past all of that now, okay? I really like being in a serious and committed relationship with you, princess. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, and I would never even think of being with anyone else.” He cups your face and strokes your cheek, and his eyes are so pretty and blue, and you can feel your heart melting already as he gives you a peck. “I guess I just wasn’t surprised by what Steve did because I’m so used to it.”

You nuzzle your face into his palm, “Can’t you tell him that it’s wrong? That you’ve grown out of doing stuff like that, and that he should too?”

Bucky chuckles, pressing your cheeks and nose with more soft kisses, “I could. But Steve is extremely stubborn and bossy, in case you haven’t noticed.” He pauses, smiling fondly at you when you giggle softly in agreement, twining a piece of your hair around his finger. “The way I see it, we should just focus on our relationship, and let Steve do whatever it is he’s doing since it’s got nothing to do with us. It took meeting the right girl for me to recognise the error of my ways. Maybe soon, he’ll find someone that he’ll want to be better for too, right?”

You nod, despite that weird feeling surfacing inside you once more. But you shove it back down and give Bucky a smile as he pulls you in for another long kiss.

“Well, let’s get to that movie, shall we? We’ve probably missed the opening credits and I’m gonna have to cut the line to get us our snacks, but I think we can still make it.”

You spend the rest of the evening at the drive-in movie theatre with Bucky. He reclines his seat and makes you climb over the console to sit in his lap while the two of you watch Gone with the Wind on the big screen with a bag of sweet and salty popcorn and a bar of chocolate to share. Once the snacks finish, you sleepily rest your head on his chest and let him stroke your back through your hoodie. And you almost fall asleep like that, Scarlett O’Hara’s indignant dialogues lulling you into a peaceful slumber until your nostrils are unceremoniously invaded with the scent of burning firewood and a hot summer’s day.

Opening your eyes slowly, you peak out the window to see another car pull up beside Bucky’s. And your heart sinks down to the depths of your chest when you see who’s inside. Steve. And Sharon. She’s talking to him animatedly, but he seems sullen and unresponsive as always. That is, until they start making out, and you have to forcibly look away when Steve’s eyes meet yours and you feel this burning feeling in your chest.

You swallow harshly before cuddling up to Bucky even more.

“James, I’m sleepy,” you say softly.

“Yeah? You wanna go home, princess?”

“Yes, please. If that’s okay?”

“Sure, princess.” He lifts you up and places you back on the passenger seat before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Close your eyes and rest. I’ll tuck you into bed once we get back to your dorm.”

And he does just that, carrying you all the way back into your dorm room and helping you change before putting you to bed. And you can’t describe whatever it is you’re feeling but all you can do is clutch at his shirt when he goes to leave, pulling him into bed with you. And he rains your face with a billion kisses before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Life at college continues. You’re still in contact with Peter, despite the two of you being so busy. But he sends you updates about his internship and all the cool technology he’s being exposed to. You tell him about your classes and all the interesting things you’re learning. You also, very tentatively, tell him about Bucky. Surprisingly, Peter seems supportive, and the conversation between the two of you grows easy once more.

The romance between you and Bucky seems to blossom with every passing day. He carries your books to class and takes you out on cute dates that make your heart flutter. Picnics, scenic walks, movies, restaurants – he takes you everywhere you’ve ever dreamed of being taken. And how your heart had skipped a beat when you’d seen he’d had a bouquet of yellow roses delivered to your dorm room! There was no note or tag attached, but you knew they were from Bucky. Who else could they be from? And they were the prettiest flowers you’d ever received, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered at his perfect choice.

It was also in the little things he did, like kiss you on the forehead reassuringly or squeeze your hand when you’re feeling nervous. And slowly, you feel yourself coming out of your shell more and more. You find yourself laughing out loud and voicing your opinions that usually you would’ve kept silent.

Being Bucky’s girlfriend meant hanging out with his group of friends, too. And it thrills you that you’re able to hold conversations with some of them, and have them be genuinely interested in what you have to say and not just write you off as a “dumb omega”.

One day, you find yourself sitting on Bucky’s lap in the campus courtyard between classes, a number of his friends surrounding you. You still feel nervous around this many people (especially intimidating seniors) but with Bucky squeezing your hand reassuringly, you find the task less daunting than you normally would, as you grow to feel more comfortable with them.

Well, most of them.

“…and then I told her to fuck off, because who knows what kind of diseases she was carrying. I mean, she’s fucked half the football team after all.” Steve says cockily, taking a drag from his cigarette while the alphas around him all laugh as if he’s cracked the funniest joke of the century. Even Bucky chuckles before you shoot him a look and he stops, a sheepish look on his face.

“I mean sure, she’s got a great ass, but there’s nothing attractive about a slut who spreads her legs for any man who looks her way.” The blond alpha continues, and it irritates you how all his friends seem to hang on to his every word, looking up to him like he’s some sort of God.

Having been with Bucky long enough, you had somewhat cracked the hierarchy of his friend group. And Steve was definitely the leader, the one they all flocked to and tried to impress. Well, not Bucky – he and Sam were the only ones who would keep Steve in check. But the blonde alpha’s ego was through the roof, as were his misogynistic ideals and derogatory views towards omegas and women in general.

And you hated how shy you were, especially around him. You felt sickened by Steve’s gross statements but you could never say anything against him. A part of you just wanted to be liked and accepted by Bucky’s best friend, but Steve only alternated between glaring at you or pretending you didn’t exist.

“HI, BABY!”

A high-pitched squeal knocks you out of your reverie, and you watch as Sharon jogs up to Steve in her pretty blue cheerleading outfit. Together, they look like the perfect couple. Head cheerleader and the captain of the football team. Perfect. You feel that weird feeling bubbling up inside you again but do your best to keep it at bay.

Steve rolls his eyes before Sharon launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his. Steve, however, remains stoic.

“Gosh, baby, could you please put that cigarette out?” Sharon says, pushing a wayward lock of Steve’s blonde hair off his forehead.

“No.”

She giggles, shaking her head before turning to you. “Men, huh? Stubborn as ever. I’ve asked him to stop smoking about a bajillion times, but he never listens.”

You smile and nod, feeling stupid and awkward as ever because Sharon is pretty and popular and you don’t know how to act.

“I like your pin.” Sharon points at the World Politics Society pin on your bookbag, “I couldn’t even dream of getting into that class. You must be really smart.”

Steve snorts but everyone ignores him.

“Thank you, I find the subject really interesting,” you reply.

You watch Sharon as she talks to everyone in the group. She’s kind, confident and beautiful – everything you wish you were. But that weird, indescribable feeling keeps surfacing inside you every time she locks hands with Steve, or brushes his hair back, or smooths the wrinkles on his sweater.

“And Mister Barnes, how come I’ve never met your girlfriend before now? When she’s practically my sister-in-law?” Sharon hits Bucky lightly on the arm before shooting you another bright smile. “We should organise a double-date. Me and Steve and you both. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Steve scoffs but everyone ignores him.

“Epically fun, Miss Carter.” Bucky gives her a charming smile before tugging you close to his chest. “We could go bowling or something. If His Highness is up for it.”

Steve takes another drag of his cigarette, saying nothing. In fact, he’s barely said a word since his girlfriend joined the conversation, and you find that to be weirdly peculiar. Why was he even with her if all he did was cheat on her and ignore her every time she spoke?

“Looking forward to it!” Sharon smiles before checking her phone, “Okay, I gotta go now or else I’ll be late for practice. I’ll see you tonight, baby?” She gives Steve a peck on the lips, which he also doesn’t return.

“Sure.” Steve answers, finally seeming to snap out of it as his hand meanders down to squeeze her ass. You feel your own hand clench into a fist but you quickly relax it and hope no one saw. What the heck was that? Why had you reacted that way?

“What a fuckin’ bitch.” Steve resumes once Sharon is out of earshot. “As I was saying, I told this other whore who was all over me the other day that I just wasn’t interested in sluts like her, and she said–”

“Could you stop being such a misogynistic jerk?!”

You can’t believe the words have left your mouth, and your hands start shaking immediately once you realise they have. Never before have you raised your voice at someone like this, let alone a formidable alpha who’s about twice your size.

Steve’s cold blue eyes rest their steely gaze on you, when up until this point he’d been content on pretending you weren’t there. You dare peak up at him and see his jaw tick, and a vein protrude from the side of his forehead.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks softly.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Bucky says warningly, but you sit up straight.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but I just don’t like how you talk about women.” You say, hating how your voice shakes and how you can’t look Steve in the eye.

“And I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me right now.” Steve’s intense gaze bores holes straight through you before he looks at Bucky, “Haven’t you taught her not to speak to her superiors like that?”

Your jaw drops open in pure shock, “H-How dare you–”

“Okay, let’s go.” Bucky hoists you to your feet while your whole body seems to shake with shock, anger, and a tiny bit of fear. The brunet alpha holds you tightly by the arm before evenly glancing back at his best friend. “Steve, don’t speak to my girl like that. In fact, if you’re going to be rude, then don’t speak to her at all.”

You and Bucky don’t stick around to hear Steve’s retort, and it’s only when you round a corner and are hidden from the rest of the group by a brick wall, that you burst into tears.

“He’s – so – awful!” You cry, your heart pitter-pattering in a mix of fear and hurt. You hated being spoken to like that, like you were beneath him. Bucky holds you close and you sob into his chest, hugging him as hard as you can. His solidness and wintery scent is a source of comfort to you, and so is his hand which rubs your back soothingly.

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, princess. I’ll make sure to speak to him about it later.” Bucky promises you, pressing soft kisses to your hairline while you cry, leaving splotchy tear-stains on his shirt.

“Why is he even with Sharon when he doesn’t seem happy with her at all?!” You burst out, desperately wiping at your teary eyes except it doesn’t stop you from crying even more. “He’s just…I just… Oh, I hate him, James! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll talk to him, don’t you worry.”

Looking into his earnest eyes, you can tell Bucky’s intentions are good. And you don’t know if he talks to Steve or not, but you do receive another delivery of yellow roses to your dorm room that very night. This time, there’s a note attached too. “I’m sorry” is all it says, and you can’t help but smile as you hold the roses up to your nose and take in their delicate scent. Bucky was obviously feeling bad about the whole situation – and it wasn’t even his fault!

But clearly, your boyfriend knows you well, because the flowers do lift your mood up a little bit. You place the second bouquet of yellow roses caringly next to the first one. They look expensive and beautiful, and have your entire room smelling heavenly and sweet. It makes you smile and clasp your hands together, and you’re just about to call Bucky when you hear a rustling from outside your window, followed by a series of heavy footsteps.

Strange. Who would be out at this time? And in the bushes outside your dorm room, no less? You decide you’ve probably imagined it, but you close your window and draw your curtains anyways before calling Bucky.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You tell him, a huge smile plastered on your face as you take one last whiff of the roses before flopping down on your bed on top of all your pillows and stuffies.

“I do know that, sweetheart, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” Bucky laughs from the other end of the phone. “It’s also nice to hear you sound so happy.”

You grab your stuffed rabbit and tug his ears mindlessly, “Yeah, I know I acted like a huge cry-baby earlier today.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it, princess? Anyways, I spoke to Steve.”

Your heart skips a beat, “You did?”

“Yes. Look, he’s set in his traditional ways and he’s stubborn as hell. But he did look like he regretted speaking to you that way, and I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Well, that’s all I want. Thank you for speaking to him, James.” There’s a pause, and then you pipe up hesitantly: “And what about Sharon? Is he still going to stay with her?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”

BECAUSE SHE’S NOT RIGHT FOR HIM! The omega inside you screeches, and the sheer vitriol you feel makes you sit up straight, eyes wide and hands shaking. What the heck? Where had that outburst even come from?

“Hello? Princess? You still with me?”

You clear your throat and physically shake your head to rid yourself of that weird feeling that seems to be bubbling inside you so often now. But never before had it manifested into your inner thoughts screaming at you like how they just had. You feel hot all over, and quickly place your palm on your forehead to check if you have a fever before remembering Bucky is still on the phone.

“I’m here. Sorry, I just…” What can you even say to him? Without sounding crazy? You take a deep breath. “Thank you for talking to him, James. I’m just glad he won’t be mean anymore. Everything else isn’t really any of my business.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.”

***

True to Bucky’s word, slowly but surely, Steve becomes a lot more bearable to be around. He’s still awful in his misogyny but at least he no longer glares at you or makes you feel unwelcome and uncomfortable when you’re with Bucky and his friends. You still catch him staring at you sometimes, but you must be imagining it because you know he hates you. You try not to care though, and only focus on Bucky.

“I want you to meet my parents, princess.” Bucky says to you one day. The two of you are in your dorm room where you’d just completed an intense study session. Well, you’d been studying while Bucky grew distracted after about ten seconds of staring at his textbook, and proceeded to kiss and touch you while you laughed and batted him off. “And I would like to meet your parents too.”

The smile drops from your face almost instantaneously, and you nervously grab your stuffed rabbit and pull its ears. “Oh, I… Uh…”

“I mean, we’ve been seriously dating for a while now, haven’t we? It’s only right that I get to meet the parents of the girl who captured my heart.”

You smile uneasily, heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “What are your parents like?” You blurt out, trying to deflect.

Bucky lies back on your bed, “They’re great. My dad’s a lawyer so he’s always working. My mom is usually at home, though. She makes a great apple pie and she’s also great for when I need advice.”

You smile softly, “She must really love you.”

He blinks. “Of course, she does. All parents love their children.”

He goes on to tell you about how his dad used to take him golfing at the country club when he was younger, and how much he hated it. But he’d always get treated to ice cream afterwards, which was why he agreed to go every time. He tells you about how his mother values family over everything, which was why he went home every other Friday to have dinner with his family, and how he’d love for you to join him on one of those dinners soon.

You nod and agree, but you feel like crying on the inside. There’s a sense of yearning inside you that you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you cuddle into Bucky or how much he kisses you.

His hands slowly slip down to your hips, squeezing gently before meandering up under your hoodie. His touch is tentative yet confident, and usually it excites you. But you always stop him before he goes too far, hoping and praying he doesn’t get mad at you. Which he never does. Instead, the two of you lazily make out on your bed until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. And then the nightmares commence, but when you wake up, you can’t remember them at all.

***

“Ooh, look at the pink bowling balls! And the powder blue ones. Aren’t they cute, Steve?” Sharon clutches Steve’s muscular bicep, her perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly against his pale skin. Steve only grunts in response before shaking her off as him and Bucky go up to the counter to pay for one session of bowling for all of you.

Through Sharon’s pure will and determination, the four of you find yourselves on a double date at the bowling alley. She seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve hated you, or that you didn’t particularly like Steve either, and had practically begged Bucky to organise the date. Bucky had said you didn’t have to do it, but what harm could one night of bowling actually do? Especially since Steve hadn’t really been mean to you for a while now.

“Do I seriously have to wear these ugly bowling shoes?” Sharon complains, gingerly holding up the dirty shoes and making a face.

“Don’t wear them. Let’s see what happens.” Steve pipes up.

Bucky laughs, “Unless you want a broken toe, you better put them on.”

It’s Steve and Sharon against you and Bucky. You’ve bowled a few times, so you’re not embarrassingly bad or anything. Bucky is fairly good too. Surprisingly, Sharon turns out to be extremely skilled at bowling, getting a strike on her first try.

And then there’s Steve.

“Another gutter ball, Rogers!” Bucky doubles over in glee, practically in tears. You try to hide your amused smile and even Sharon can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up!” Steve seethes, looking redder than a tomato as he jams his hands in his pockets and walks back to the bench you’re all sitting on. He casts a quick glance in your direction, his nose twitching. “There’s too many distractions here.”

“What distractions, bro? You’re just a bad player.” Bucky mocks, jabbing his elbow into his friend’s ribs and laughing even harder when the blond gives him an absolutely murderous look.

Bucky gets up and stretches, “I think I need a beer. You want one, Steve?”

Steve flips him off.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You girls want anything?”

“Maybe a strawberry milkshake? Or iced tea sounds good. And I think we should also get some food for Steve before he implodes. Maybe nachos? Or curly fries. I’ll go with you, since that’s a lot to remember.” Sharon gets up.

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, “Think you can hold down fort and keep us in the lead until I get back, princess?” He whispers.

You giggle, “I think so. I just need to get a minimum of one pin.”

They leave, and you get up to do your turn. Making your way over to the contraption where they keep all the bowling balls, you can feel Steve’s eyes on you. God, without Bucky and Sharon here, you felt all shy and nervous. Not to mention his scent, which was so overpowering as it settled into your nostrils. Just ignore him, you think to yourself before absentmindedly selecting a bowling ball.

You’ve taken one step towards the bowling lane when the ball slips from your sweaty palms. It’s a lot heavier than you anticipated, and you can’t take the weight as you watch it fall down almost in slow motion. There’s a flurry of movement, Steve moving quick as lightning and batting the ball sideways before it completely crushes your foot. It ends up bouncing on the tip of your toe with a loud thud before rolling away under the table.

“What the fuck inspired you to choose the heaviest ball available? You could have really hurt yourself!” Steve shakes you angrily by the shoulder as you remain frozen in place, still registering what just happened.

“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You stammer before suddenly becoming aware of your toe throbbing from where the bowling ball had fallen. Most of its weight had been absorbed by your shoe, but your toe still hurts. And you hate being such a baby, but your lower lip can’t help but quiver, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.

You don’t really register it as Steve’s fingers encircle around your wrist, and he tugs you back to the bench, forcing you down before crouching in front of you.

“Did you hurt yourself? See, this is why little omegas like you shouldn’t be carrying heavy things. I told Bucky bowling was a bad idea.” At the mention of his best friend’s name, Steve instinctively whips his head towards the snack counter, and you do too. Bucky and Sharon are still in line, and with their backs turned and so many people around, you doubt they can see you.

You sniffle, “I didn’t think it would be that heavy.”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’re just a baby omega, and sometimes you don’t think about things like that. Here, let me see.” Before you realise what’s happening, he grabs your ankle with one big, warm hand; and uses the other to unstrap your shoe. You gape at him, the scent of smoky firewood and a freshly mown lawn making you swallow harshly and freeze in place, letting him slip your shoe off.

But it only a takes handful of seconds for you to come back to your senses, and you shake your head and cringe backwards.

“Uh, th-that’s okay, Steve. It stopped hurting now, I think I’ll be fine.”

But his grip on your ankle doesn’t loosen, your shoe falling to the ground and his blue eyes zeroing in on your foot which is covered by just your lacy white ankle sock. The air feels thick around you both, and you feel your breathing start to get laboured as you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

Slowly, tentatively almost, he strokes your foot with his other hand. And a part of you is so acutely aware of how weird this is. You boyfriend’s best friend tending to your injury in the middle of a crowded bowling alley – while Bucky and Sharon were in the same vicinity!

“You’ll be alright.” Steve says gently (the gentlest you’ve ever heard him speak), as he continues to stroke your throbbing toe, “You just need to be more careful, okay?”

You find yourself nodding, your entire body buzzing with some sort of strange energy that you’ve never felt before. “I guess I just got distracted.”

Steve’s hand remains rubbing your toe, but his eyes look up to meet yours. And you almost forget how to breathe, feeling like there’s a bubble encasing the two of you, and everyone else is far, far away. All you can feel is his burning gaze and his hand touching you.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, I’ve been distracted all night too.” And you can’t help but notice how long and dark his lashes are, how they contrast so deeply from his pale hair and skin, how they fan against his cheekbones as he blinks up at you almost earnestly. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

That knocks you out of whatever reverie he’s pulled you into. Drive you home? While his girlfriend and your boyfriend stayed here? Was he insane?

You forcibly tug your foot out of his grasp, quickly putting your shoe back on before he can grab it again. And Steve stays in his crouched position in front of you, almost as if frozen in place. He’s staring at his hand, the one that was holding your ankle, before he looks up at you. There’s a fiery look in his eyes, one you can’t fully explain. You also can’t fully explain why your heart is beating like mad, and there’s a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

“I’m fine, Steve. Really. Thank you for uh… Just… Thanks.” You mumble.

Steve blinks, opening his mouth to speak before he shuts it again when he looks beyond your shoulder. He coughs, standing up to his full height and moving away from you suddenly. And you watch him whip his phone out, pretend he’s texting someone, and all the while your heart just won’t calm down. And then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“We’ve got snacks!” Sharon announces, skipping over to Steve and handing him a bunch of things, “Here you go, babe. These cheesy fries are literally to die for. Me and Bucky picked at them on the way back here. Oh, and here’s your beer.”

You watch as Sharon simpers at her boyfriend, grabbing his hand and leading him to a nearby bench. Feeding him fries while he bats her hand away, instead grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. His face is still red, and his eyes are still bright, and–

“You okay, princess?” Bucky sits down beside you and puts his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze. “You look troubled.”

You force a smile, “I’m fine, James.”

“Did Steve say something to you? Do you need me to talk to him again?”

Rapidly, you shake your head. Subconsciously, you’ve already made the decision not to tell Bucky about the weirdness that has just transpired. And the guilt is already eating you up from the inside out, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. Or hadn’t you? Why had you not pulled away sooner? And why was Steve acting this way? Why was he so gentle, so tender? When every other instance between the two of you has been either him ignoring you, or being rude towards you?

Suddenly, your head hurts.

Bucky seems to understand that something is off with you, because he tells Sharon and Steve that he’s tired and wants to cut the night short. You hug Sharon goodbye, feeling like you want the ground to eat you up whole, before your boyfriend leads you out of the bowling alley.

“Princess, please tell me what’s bothering you.” He says moments later when the two of you are in his car.

You force a smile, “Nothing!”

His light blue eyes, so piercing in the darkness of the car, stare at you as if they can see right through you. But all he does is draw you in for a hug, and you feel your body sag into his. Bucky feels so cosy and safe, so dependable and good. All your worries and concerns dissipate for a moment as you hug him back almost fiercely.

“Well, why don’t we go get some ice cream?” He asks kindly.

You bury your face in his chest, not quite done hugging him yet. Maybe you were just overthinking whatever had happened back there with Steve. Maybe the blond alpha was just trying to turn a new leaf and be kind for once. Maybe his actions had been innocuous after all. You sniffle before looking up at your boyfriend and pressing a long kiss to his lips.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Bucky gets a double mint chocolate chip cone and you get a vanilla strawberry swirl. He licks the ice cream that you accidentally smear on the side of your mouth as you dig in, and then you both kiss some more. Sweet kisses and sweet touches laced with giggles. And then he takes you on a drive, and you roll the windows down and let the breeze hit your face as if you’re the main character in an indie film, allowing the cool night air to wash away any remnants of guilt. Bucky’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other one holding steadily onto yours, squeezing every few seconds and shooting you lovesick smiles that you return.

He parks outside of your dorm building and pulls you over the console and into his lap. And you let him kiss you and touch you and try to lose yourself in it. Try not to think of a hot summer’s day and freshly mown grass. You don’t even stop him when he pushes his hand down your leggings and past your panties, and you gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers brush against your hot core.

“Are you sure about this, princess?” Bucky breathes against your lips, and you want to cry at how sweet he is. How patient and kind. You don’t deserve him at all. You nod your head to indicate that yes, you are sure. You kiss him doubly hard, trying to drown out the feel of wanting to cry. Because actually no, you’re not sure about this. You don’t know if you’re ready. But you feel so bad, so bad for what happened with Steve.

You didn’t even do anything! The rational part of your brain screams. So then why did it feel like you had?

Bucky moves his fingers expertly inside you, his thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves in a way that does make you momentarily forget about anything else except for his touch. You mewl his name, clutching the fabric of his shirt and rutting against him. His large hands rub up and down your back, his lips warm against your ear as he coaxes you, “That’s right, princess. Let go for me, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

You come hard, body shaking and spasming on top of him as he holds you close to his chest. Praises you for being so good for him, for being so beautiful and perfect. And it’s crazy, because you feel anything but those things right now. But you sob out his name softly, and let him stroke your hair back as he continues to talk you through your orgasm, “That’s it, princess. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Thank you for letting me in, sweetheart. Thank you for being so perfect.”

He lets you recover, all the while kissing you. And then he walks you to your room and bids you goodnight. He tells you he’d have stayed the night, but he has to drive home to pick up an important document for his father. You manage a weak smile, and return his kisses before waving goodbye.

And then you shut the door and burst into tears.

And you don’t even know why, because nothing had happened between you and Steve! Nothing at all. But you cry for all the confusion within you, the unresolved feelings of guilt that you can’t understand for the life of you, and how you can’t seem to shake this yearning sadness inside you. Oh, why did Steve have to be so different tonight? Why had his eyes reflected such tenderness? Why had he held your ankle like that? Why hadn’t he let go?

Why did you care so much?

You take a long shower and change into clean, comfortable clothes before trying to distract yourself with Netflix. And that’s when you hear a knock on your door.

It’s another bouquet of yellow roses. You smile at the delivery man – you recognise his face at this point, since he’s been to your dorm room three times now. You marvel at Bucky’s quickness, because he’d only dropped you home about an hour ago. He must have paid for express delivery or something. And this time, the bouquet is accompanied by not only a note, but also a small package.

I really enjoyed our date tonight, baby.

You smile softly at the short but sweet message, before your eyes shift to the package. It’s brown and unsuspecting, with a yellow ribbon holding it together. You gently rip it open.

Coal black eyes stare up at you. A furry little face. Tan coloured fur and a light blue bow-tie. It’s a teddy bear! You can’t help but crack a smile, heart feeling lighter than it has all day. Oh, it was so cute! Like a furry little baby. You hug it close to your chest, the butterflies fluttering happily around in your tummy. You don’t receive gifts too often, and this was a total surprise. And definitely one that was helping lift your lousy mood.

You fall asleep with the teddy in your arms, and no nightmares come. Instead, you dream of warm sunlight splashing down on your skin, and green grass so fresh you can almost smell it. And the silhouette of a shadowy figure who holds you close and promises to keep you safe. And the yearning feel goes away. And you feel content.

***

“Okay, do you want the good news first or the bad news?”

“Uh oh.” You bite your lip, immediately assuming the worst as your hand freezes in the middle of tossing a folded shirt into your overnight bag. Today was the day you and Bucky were driving down to Bucky’s family house, where you were finally going to meet his parents and stay for the weekend. “They don’t like me, do they?”

Bucky snickers over the phone, “Wrong, sweetheart. My parents love you. Well, they love the pictures of you that I showed them from my phone. That’s the good news, actually. They seem genuinely excited to meet you. My mom’s planning a whole five course dinner.”

You resume packing, putting in your pyjama bottoms, an extra hoodie, your plastic bag of toiletries, as well as your new favourite stuffed teddy bear. You force out a chuckle, hoping he can’t detect your anxiety and nervousness over the phone, “That’s good. I really hope I don’t let them down.”

“Let them down? How?”

You chew on your lip and whisper, “By not being good enough…”

“Princess, you’re the prettiest, kindest, sweetest and smartest girl I’ve ever dated. I don’t want you putting yourself down like that, okay?”

“O-Okay.” He was right – it wasn’t healthy to keep thinking of yourself in such a negative light. And it wasn’t like you enjoyed feeling sorry for yourself or drowning in self-pity, you just sometimes let the doubts you had about yourself creep in and take over your mind. Despite the fact that since day one, Bucky had been reassuring you about how perfect you were.

But would a perfect girlfriend be feeling as guilty as you were?

“What’s the bad news?” You ask, trying to push your thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the conversation with your boyfriend.

Bucky sighs, “So, I had to actually stop by my dad’s office to sort out some paperwork. He only trusts me to do it, and since I’ll be working at his firm once I graduate, I figured it would be a good chance for me to show him that I’m actually competent with stuff like that.”

You nod, “That makes sense.”

“But that means I’ll be tied up all morning, so I won’t be able to drive you back to my house in Brooklyn.”

“Oh.” You let the words sink in. “That’s alright, James. I can just take the train.”

“Uh, I don’t think so, princess. But listen, Steve is going home for the weekend too, and his parents are practically neighbours with mine. He offered to give you a lift.”

You feel your whole body begin to shake as soon as his name is mentioned. It’s been a few days since the double date, and since what you’ve dubbed in your head as “the ankle incident.” Even now, your heart flutters at the memory, and you can still feel his warm fingers brushing over your foot as he’d held it in his hands and stroked you so softly. And when you close your eyes, you can see that earnest look on his face, and–

“Bucky, I really don’t mind taking the train.”

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t mind. But I mind, I don’t want my girl taking the train when you could easily just drive there.” There’s a pause as Bucky inhales deeply, “Look, I know you and Steve aren’t exactly the best of friends. But I really think he’s trying to turn a new leaf and be a nicer person. I mean, he actually volunteered to drive you, which is progress. And if I’m being honest, it would really give me peace of mind if I knew you were in the car with one of my friends instead of alone on a crowded, dingy train.”

“James, I really don’t think–”

“Please, sweetheart? For me?”

You exhale slowly, clasping your hands together to stop them from shaking. If Bucky had so much faith in Steve, then maybe it was you who was overthinking everything. Maybe Steve genuinely was turning a new leaf, and who were you to deny someone when they were doing you a favour? The drive down to Brooklyn would be long, but not too long. And Steve hadn’t been mean to you for many weeks now, so maybe it would all be okay?

“Okay, Bucky. If that’s what you want.” You agree softly.

“Great! Steve told me to tell you that he’ll pick you up at 3.”

***

Steve arrives outside your dorm at 2:55pm. Actually, you see his car pull up at around 2:45, and then you watch him park it and sit there drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. And then he gets out of the car and paces around for a while before finally making his way over to your door and knocking on it rather loudly. You give him a quiet hello and he gives you a grunt in return, the exchange giving you a sick feeling in your tummy – would it be this quiet and awkward for the whole journey? Before you can worry some more, Steve takes your overnight bag from your hands and leads you to his car.

“Put your seatbelt on.” He orders you the moment you sit down in the passenger seat.

“I was just about to.” You respond, a tad defensive because he hadn’t even given you a chance to breathe before he’d started ordering you around.

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t start the car until your seatbelt is firmly in place, and then you sit there twiddling your thumbs in silence because Steve doesn’t even have the radio on. You wonder if you should start a conversation, but you feel too shy. Which is crazy, since you’d really been starting to come out of your shell these past few months. But not with Steve. He was way too intimidating and scary and just… intense.

“How’s your toe?” He asks you gruffly out of the blue about ten minutes into the journey.

“It’s all good, thank you for asking.” Your response is cordial, and you wonder if you sound bitchy or clipped. It certainly isn’t your intention, but you’ve definitely got your guard up and you don’t really know how to speak to him.

Steve sighs, and there’s another fifteen minutes of silence before he pulls into a traffic jam, and that’s when he turns to face you.

“I broke up with Sharon.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your heart skip a beat, “Oh…uh…Oh.”

He nods, “Yeah. I took your advice.”

That makes you snap out of whatever momentary shock his sudden revelation had put you in. “My advice? Wh-What do you mean?”

The car starts moving again, and Steve takes his time to reply, and you wonder whether he can hear your heart pitter-pattering loudly in your chest as you anticipate his response.

“I’ve heard you, you know. All those times you complained to Bucky, asking him why I was with Sharon if I clearly didn’t care about her. And you were right, so I took your advice and I dumped her.”

You clear your throat, nervously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I didn’t mean… Well… She deserves better, Steve.” You inhale deeply and turn to look out the window – either out of awkwardness or because you can’t seem to meet his gaze. But he’s got a weird pull about him, practically reeling you back in and you can’t help but look back at him once he starts speaking again.

“I told her I wasn’t interested in her anymore. That I was in love with somebody else.” Steve takes a turn off the highway, and you sit there frozen in shock as he takes quick left and right turns, eventually driving into a small, deserted street, where he parks the car. You swallow, but there’s a huge lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of.

“Wh-Why are we stopping here, Steve?”

“I like how my name sounds when you say it.” His hand creeps over the console in a bid to grab yours, and you quickly move back. Your back slams against the door as you cringe away from him, eyes wide and heart racing.

“Wh-What are you doing? Stop!”

Steve scoffs, “Please. Don’t play dumb, I know you like me too. And the sooner you stop denying it, the easier all of this will be for you.”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, it’s almost like your own ears are playing tricks on you. As if you’re Alice falling down some weird rabbit hole into a dimension where nothing makes sense. Was this a joke? Was he pulling some sort of prank? But he’s got that same earnest, honest look in his eyes, the look he’d had at the bowling alley. But you swallow and shake your head rapidly.

“Steve, no, I’m with James. He’s my boyfriend, I don’t like you like that –”

“DON’T LIE!” Steve bursts out, and the sudden explosion of anger makes you jump out of your seat, and the panic that ensues in your heart has you grabbing the door handle in a desperate bid to get out of the car and away from him. But of course, the door remains locked, and now you can really feel the cold terror and dread as it overtakes your body.

Steve exhales slowly, running a hand through his blonde hair, “Don’t. Lie.” He repeats, reaching over to forcibly grab your wrist. And his touch alone sense goosebumps up and down your arm. “I knew we had a connection from the moment I saw you. And then at the bowling alley on our date, I knew you felt it too.”

“Y-You mean our double date,” you say slowly, incredulity dripping from your tone, “where you were with your girlfriend and I was with my boyfriend.”

Steve shakes his head, his grip on your wrist tightening, “You were the only one I could focus on that night.” And then, as you watch in horror, he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it as his eyes flutter shut, almost like he’s savouring kissing your skin for the first time. And you feel every cell in your body, from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, flutter as he does it. He locks eyes with you, “And I saw how you reacted that night when you opened my gift, that’s how I knew you liked me too.”

His gift? The terror in your veins seems to triple in less than a second, and you feel like you might throw up. You think back to all those bouquets of yellow roses with no name on the notes that accompanied them. And your favourite stuffed teddy with the coal black eyes and blue bow tie. No. No, it couldn’t be. And he’d watched you open them? How?

“N-No, those were from James!” You bat at him, trying to get him to let go of your hand. You suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. “Those flowers were from James!”

“Sure.” Steve snorts, “Is that why you never even mentioned them to him? You knew deep down they weren’t from him, omega. You knew.”

“No, no, no–”

“And how could they be from him? He doesn’t understand you. Not like I do.” He tries to cup your cheek with his warm hand but you dodge him, shaken down to your very core by all the revelations hurtling towards you at top speed. Steve narrows his eyes at you for a second, before grabbing your hand again. “You think he doesn’t tell me everything, omega? You think I don’t know that you haven’t even let him fuck you yet?”

You feel you’ve just been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, and all you can do is gape helplessly at Steve, any words you may have had on the tip of your tongue now firmly lodged in the back of your throat.

Steve smirks, “That’s right. He told me you haven’t let him fuck you, and it’s been what, three months since you guys started going out?”

“I wanted to wait till I was ready.” You whisper.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve laughs bitterly, “But you and I both know the truth, which is that you’ll never be ready. Not for him. Because you don’t want him to fuck you, you don’t want that intimacy with him.” He yanks you closer with the hold he has on your wrist, till your foreheads are almost touching and you’re frozen in place by not only your fear but something else too. Something warm and inviting.

“If you were my girlfriend, you’d already be three months pregnant.”

Your jaw drops open, only a tiny squeak making its way out past your lips. It’s as if he’s stolen all the air from your lungs, and all the thoughts from your brain. You feel hot all over, but also numb. You feel nothing yet everything all at once, and you can’t believe what he’s saying.

“But that’s okay, we still have plenty of time for that.” Steve nods determinedly, his eyes clouding over with an almost wistful, faraway look. “Baby, I have a plan for us. I’m graduating soon, and I want you by my side as the mother of my children. You’re perfect for me, and I’ll give you the family you crave.”

It’s like he’s lit a candle inside you. A tiny, almost minuscule candle of hope fuelled by the picture his words paint, but it flames fiercely nevertheless. Until you forcibly snuff it out and shake your head once more, and deliver more futile pushes to get him to let you go.

“Y-You’re crazy! I don’t want that, Steve! I don’t want any of that!”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes. You do.” Steve sneers, twisting your arm when you grow more desperate, your movements ceasing as you stare up at him helplessly. But his face remains stoic, and a wild piece of blonde hair flops down over his forehead. “I told you; Bucky tells me everything. How you never really fully open up to him, how you get closed off and distant and sad sometimes and he can’t figure out why because you never tell him.”

“Th-That’s between me and him–”

“Don’t you get it?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you as if he’s had an epiphany and wants you to have it too. “I’m the one who knows you, omega. Not him.” His hand reaches up to cup the wide of your face again, and this time he succeeds because you’re frozen in place. His voice softens, “I know you feel like your mother doesn’t care about you. I know you feel lonely despite being in a relationship with Bucky. I know you felt like this even in your previous relationship before Bucky. And I know you don’t have a dad, and I know it hurts–”

“No, no, no, no!” The tears are welling up in your eyes now, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Like you’re hyperventilating and there’s no escape and you can’t run away because this stupid car is locked and you’re in the middle of nowhere and you’ve never told anyone about your dad! You never talk about that with anyone. You don’t even think about it! How did he know?!

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve rubs his wrists over your face, and the tranquil effect of a hot midsummer afternoon warms you from the inside out. You feel your heartbeat go back to normal, and you’re able to breathe again. You look up to see Steve’s face inches away from yours, and all you can feel are the pads of his thumbs slowly stroking your cheekbones, and for the life of you, you can’t explain why you just let him do it.

“Do you ever get that yearning feeling, baby?” He asks you softly, so softly that you almost don’t hear it. His blue eyes sparkle with determination and earnesty, and he holds your face so carefully in his hands. “Tell me, do you ever get that feeling? Of wanting something so bad but you can’t seem to figure out what it is?”

“Yes.” You whisper hushedly, dropping your head in shame. Your heart throbs with the same guilt that you’ve been feeling for days now. Horrific, unforgiving guilt that washes through your body in taunting waves.

Steve kisses you then. And it feels like everything around you seems to stand still. Every particle, every atom, every hair, every speck of dust freezes in place. You close your eyes, and it’s like the sun itself descends down to the earth, making everything bask in its addicting glow. Fireworks and explosions behind your eyes and all around you, his warmth enveloping you like a hug. An embrace of delicious heat that feels like you’re home. Really home, and it’s something you’ve never felt before.

And then you start crying.

“I can’t do this to him.” You pull away, and the panic you feel is almost immediate. “Steve, I… We can’t do this to Bucky. He’s so good to me, he doesn’t deserve this! We can’t, we can’t–”

“He’ll understand.” Steve says firmly, keeping a tight hold on you. “It’ll be hard for him, but once he sees that we’re in love, he’ll understand. And it’s good for him too, because this way he can find a mate who is better suited for him.”

Through the haze of Steve’s smoky firewood and hot summer day scent, you think back to Bucky and his crinkled smile. How he’d been the first one to speak to you on your first day, how he’d walked you to the library and how at ease you’d felt with him. How his lopsided smile, sparkling eyes and effortless charm had reeled you in. All the nights spent cuddling or watching TV or just talking and talking and talking. How respectful he’d been of your boundaries; how sweet and patient and intuitive he’d been any time you felt uncomfortable or upset.

How he’d complimented you every chance he got, building up your self-esteem through his love and adoration. How his easy-going nature made you feel so comfortable… But yet not comfortable enough to let him in. And that’s when the guilt seems to attack every cell of your body, killing you from the inside out. Why? Why couldn’t you just let Bucky in? Why couldn’t you just love him? Why, why, why?

Why did it have to turn out this way?

“No.” You shake your head, trying to shake away the thick haze of Steve’s scent which seems to be corrupting your every sense. And when you next speak, your voice is firmer, and you wipe the tears from your face, and you sit up straight, and you shrug his hands off of you. “No, Steve. We can’t do this. I need to get out, I need to–”

Steve’s eyes narrow once more, “Omega, listen to me–”

“Let me out of this car! Just let me out, okay! I’m not doing this to him! You’re wrong, Steve! You’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I don’t like you like that!” You rattle the door handle desperately, but of course it doesn’t budge. “Let me out, Steve! I can’t think in here, I need to get out! I need to speak to Bucky, I need to… I need to…”

You feel yourself going lax in his arms, your limbs turning to jelly as he places his hand on your mating gland, fingers pressing down. It sends thrills and shivers up and down your body as he draws you back to him, closer and closer till he’s embracing you.

“I’m your alpha.” Steve whispers in your ear, and the possessiveness in his tone rocks you to your very core. “You’re my omega, all mine. It’s like you were made for me. And that’s all that matters.”

You’re about to protest once more, and then you feel his teeth graze against your mating gland. It feels peculiar, thrilling, dangerous all at the same time. But the threat of his action doesn’t register immediately, and it takes you a second too long to realise, and then–

“No, Steve, don’t! Don’t!”

A blood-curdling scream leaves your mouth. Steve’s teeth are sharp and unforgiving as they clamp down on your mating gland. And his bite if so painful, like he’s chipping and tearing away at any traces of autonomy left in your body. The sensitive skin of your neck breaks and tears along with the last remnants of your independence.

Everything stills around you. Everything but Steve. He’s all you can feel now. His heartbeat, loud and wild. Or is that your heartbeat? Everything feels different, nothing is the same. It’s all Steve. All of your senses are Steve. All of your feelings are Steve.

“I’m never gonna let you go.” Steve whispers against the fresh wound on your neck, licking at his handiwork which will soon turn into a mark that brands you as his forever.

His presence around you is infinite. The intense heat of his aura mixed with his addictive scent, hitting you from all angles like a tidal wave.

And, like a bittersweet film coming to an end, it washes away the memory of Bucky before you even have the chance to say goodbye.

SDKGKSLAG OKAY.

So.... did I just present y’all with a Steve x omega fic disguised as Bucky fic?? Despite hyping the Bucky fic for MONTHS? Well... *dodges tomatoes* Yes. Yes I did. I’M SORRY BUCKY GIRLIES. STOMEGA FOREVER. This was the plan from the start, because it doesn’t matter if Bucky asked for omega’s number first - she would always end up with Steve. In any AU. In every AU. ANYWAYS. GUYS. I hope you liked it and I hope you’re not mad! I really really really would love to know what yall thought! Like genuinely, I jsut NEED to know what you guys thought of this bc honestly... I am not so sure AHHHHH. okay i’ll shut up now. Bye.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan x reader

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twomiddlefingersforthehaters · 6 months

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It's very likely that a manga artist has seen a movie based on a popular comic, and may have been inspired by it and referenced it in their work.

1. Argonath on the River Anduin and The Valley of the End are so similar-looking

Valley of the end - 2004

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring- 2001 [it premiered in Japan on March 2, 2002]

2. Kishimoto said that he was referenced Spiderman.

We know that Sasuke felt pain in his arm and fell to his knees, coughing up blood just above Naruto's head. Then we seeing him end up straight above Naruto's face. All the raindrops pass through his face land on Naruto's face. We know he was staring at Naruto for a while. But we don't know when Sasuke got up and left him. Kishimoto deliberately left this scene up to our interpretation.

And it's a clear visual symbolism of the iconic Upside down Kiss between Mary Jane and Peter Parker in the Rain (2002)

There is no denying the fact that this romantic visual symbolism was given to Sasuke innocently staring at Naruto...

3. At the end of the chapter 271 Kishimoto said that he referenced "CHIKAMATSU MONZAEMON"

In the manga, Monzaemon is known as the first generation of puppet master. In fact, this is a real person who actually existed in the Edo period. It is taken from the famous Japanese puppet theater writer "Chikamatsu Monzaemon". He was the inventor of the art of puppetry. His real name is Sugimori Nobumori, and Chikamatsu Monzaemon is his pen name. He was a Jōruri, a playwright of puppet shows and kabuki during the Edo period. And also Known as the "Shakespeare of Japan". He is considered Japan's greatest playwright, writing for both bunraku puppet theater and the kabuki stage.

As a fan of his writings, Kishi created Chikamatsu Monzaemon as a character in his manga to show his respect for him.

As Kishi said, Chikamatsu is known as the Japanese Shakespeare. His most famous work is 'Love Suicide at Amijima' (1720). It is about two lovers who cannot live together because of social and political situation, and so blinded by love they commit the gravest act, suicide. Since their inflexible society makes their love impossible, Jihei and Koharu will seek to be joined in the afterlife. I've talked about it in here [It is based on the bunraku play The Love Suicides at Amijima by Monzaemon Chikamatsu]

Kishi talked about love suicide in the final note of chapter 271, then he mentioned double suicide in chapter 450, and finally in 486 Naruto suggested double suicide to Sasuke under a bridge

Their shinobi world is no different from the real world when it comes to the basics. A world full of injustice, inflexible and prejudice...and it won't allow their love or let them be together. If they wanted to be together forever, the only option before them was to die together. Leaving this world to live with each other. Hopefully they will meet again in the next life….because in their next life they will not be burdened by society's expectations, hatred, injustice, prejudices and rigid rules.

#Naruto manga #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #masashi kishimoto #my stuff

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tonight-i-may-see · 7 months

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The one that got away - Hotch x Male!reader [March Hotchness day 2]

[note: OKAY THIS IS ALMOST AN HOUR PAST DAY 2 FOR ME BUT I DONT CARE. This is part of the march hotchness event by @hotchfiles]

cw: angst, male!reader

word count: 1.4k

It was odd, in a way, to reminisce on someone so often and yet know nothing of their current life. Like watching the same home movie over and over, the person never loses the sparkle in their eyes or smile on their lips. They’re frozen in time. Young and perfect.

Aaron Hotchner was the kindest person you’d ever met. Full stop, end of statement. There was truly no one else that had even come close to the way he’d treat the people around him when the two of you were at boarding school together, and you knew there likely never would be. You had to make peace with that a long time ago. The two of you first met at the beginning of the very first semester of school, seated together at the back of English class where someone had asked him to borrow a pen- he’d had plenty of spares of course, and you’d noted to yourself that despite his rather stoic and quiet appearance, he didn’t actually hate everyone. He was neat and well prepared, took notes with handwriting that made you envy his control, your own sparse scribbles looking elementary in comparison.

By lunch the two of you were joined at the hip, having started a conversation about the books you’d be studying that year, then somehow getting onto talking about more personal interests. He divulged his hobby of coin collecting and love of the beatles, and you stood there astounded that someone so seemingly unremarkable was such a huge nerd. You felt unremarkable, even with interests just as nerdy, you felt like a dull shining star watching a supernova. Beautiful and bright and impacting everyone effortlessly. He was somehow introverted but friends with everyone, popular but liked, It never felt like you were in danger of him suddenly turning on you and making fun of you like the others did- in fact, he was the one there to comfort you about it, the one to send them an actual glare as opposed to his usual apathetic expression and make their jeers peter out into mumbles of almost apologies. Never real ones, to be clear, but grunts that sounded close enough that he’d stop his disapproving stare. You loved that stare, probably because it was only ever sent to you in a lighthearted manner, part of the jokes you’d share to make the boredom filled days at the boarding school less unbearable.

It went on like that for years, the two of you only growing closer with time, eventually you knew everything about each other. Divulged hopes and dreams, supported each other through every obstacle, celebrated good grades and attended every extracurricular club event the other was part of. One of those clubs was drama, you were the one to join it and Aaron was more than happy to be sat in the front row of every play and showcase you acted in, being your anchor when you got stage fright. He was your favourite part of those evenings, seeing him beaming up at you at curtain call, clapping and whistling while you took your final bow.

That was his place in this, where he was always expected to be…so when he asked you to help him get an audition for Pirates of Penzance after a rehearsal he visited, you were honestly baffled. Aaron had never shown an interest in becoming an actor, and if you were honest you knew he wasn’t brilliant just from him helping you run lines. Regardless, he was your best friend, so of course you were going to help him out- it would be fun if nothing else, plus you’d get to spend more time with him. In the time the two of you had grown closer, you’d also grown up, maturing and making discoveries about yourselves and the world around you. It was unspoken that you told each other everything…but you were lying to him, you had been for about a year by the time the play rolled around. Why? Because you were falling in love with him.

It wasn’t even an option to tell him. He could never know. Maybe one day once the two of you were in college and far from the judgement of these particular peers, you’d open up and tell him you were gay- or bi- you still weren’t sure. But for now it was taking a back seat as you furiously studied the script. It was originally an opera, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen with high school aged students, so the theatre teacher had turned it into a play. Eventually, in what was most likely a pity move, that same teacher awarded Aaron the role of Fourth Pirate. He was ecstatic, as were you, knowing you’d get to have scenes together since you had been given the role of Fredric. But after a few minutes, you saw him scouring the script and eventually tapping the page…a name. Ruth. And just like that your heart dropped to your stomach, past things you’d noticed but brushed off coming back to haunt you and weigh heavily on your chest.

The first time you noticed it was the second ever showcase. A dual monologue you had spent hours timing, blocking and perfecting with your scene partner. Most of it was spent facing her, but you couldn’t help noticing his attention pulled from you even when you were the one speaking. That was how it went on for a while, until your first lead role. Your first bow. He wasn’t even looking at you, his focus was over to stage right, a grin on his face and sparkle in his eyes you thought was reserved only for you.

The walk back to the dressing rooms (which were just the gym locker rooms) felt like your legs were jelly, your heart in your throat while you wiped off the makeup they made you wear. That night you went home alone, didn’t even speak to him, blaming it on tiredness the following Monday. The lie was accepted, and you both moved on just fine, you managed to force yourself to not think about it and he hadn’t even realised you noticed.

So when it got to Pirates of Penzance and he tapped that name, the utter heartbreak crashed over you all over again. Of course. Of course he’d only joined to speak to her- to speak to Haley. This was never about you, why would it be? You were just ‘Aaron’s friend’, a set piece on the stage of their meet cute, the wingman who would obviously support him. Right? There was no way your feelings for him were anything but platonic. So why did seeing the two of them laugh together feel like a knife to the gut? Why, when the play was over and he brought her flowers, did you want to throw them to the ground and destroy them? Haley was perfect. A beautiful, talented and sweet girl who had been nothing but nice to you- she wanted to be friends, you’d noticed her efforts. But the moment you realised what Aaron was doing she became your enemy. If she was his Juliet, then you were the moon, pale and sick with grief. Envy.

After the play was over, you isolated yourself. You stopped passing notes and whispering in class, stopped hanging out at his locker and dorm, stopped calling late at night to giggle about some stupid thing that happened that day. Eventually you went from inseparable best friends to a nod and smile in the hallway, with Haley on his arm, of course. And you felt sick.

The final semester came and went and before you knew it you’d attended and graduated college. You hadn’t seen him since high school graduation, but from what you’d seen he and Haley were still going strong- engaged, even. Over time it hurt less, but the ache you got seeing those brown eyes never left. You knew he likely didn’t even think about being attracted to men, everything about him screamed that he’d never think twice about how he’d seen you back then, and you accepted it. Boyfriends came and went, some looking remarkably like him, but it was never the same, you couldn’t pretend it was the one you truly wanted. So you gave up. Focused on work and built friendships, built a career. It made you happy most of the time, and that’s all you wanted really, just a little happiness to make the loneliness easier to swallow.

It went down a treat after a while, until one afternoon there was a knock on your apartment door, and you opened it to see a dark haired man and woman holding up badges. Suddenly you couldn’t swallow it. Suddenly, you felt it lodge in your throat as those brown eyes widened, realising exactly who he was looking at.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #marchhotchness #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x male reader #leowrites

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not-wholly-unheroic · 8 months

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A Comparative Analysis of Hook's Ship and Cabin in Popular Media Portrayals

They say a man's home is his castle, and that is perhaps more true for Captain James Hook than most. Amid all the wildness and chaos of Neverland, the ship (and particularly the captain's cabin) is the one space where Hook exerts any real control over his environment, and upon close inspection, it reveals a great deal about who he is, what motivates him, his time period, and perhaps even whether or not any given "Hook" is intended to be "real" or a figure of the children's imagination. In this series of posts, I will be examining the Jolly Roger in five of the most well-known adaptations of Peter Pan: Disney's 1953 animated classic, Fox's Peter Pan & the Pirates (1990), Spielberg's Hook (1991), P.J. Hogan's Peter Pan (2003), and Disney's recent live-action remake, Peter Pan & Wendy (2023).

Part 1: Disney’s 1953 Animated Film

The Jolly Roger herself in the ‘53 film appears to be a Spanish galleon. This type of ship, though perhaps the “stereotypical” pirate ship that immediately comes to mind when we think of pirates in film, would have been highly impractical for any actual pirate. A good pirate ship needed to be sleek and fast, whereas galleons were great for carrying a lot of goods but unfortunately also very slow…and a large target for an enemy attack. Still, Hook has a tendency to prefer aesthetic beauty over function, so perhaps we can merely chalk this part up to the captain’s personal tastes.

On the other hand, Disney Hook has a ship that pretty blatantly screams “pirate” to anyone who might see it coming between the skull and crossbones you can see carved into the woodwork and the skull figurehead…which is definitely something that would seem more at home in a child’s imagined version of a pirate ship than any actual vessel.

For all the fancy, over-the-top outward style of the Jolly Roger in the ‘53 film, Hook’s cabin is surprisingly modest. His bed, which can be seen in the background during the “sick scene” post-Skull Rock, is the standard sort you might expect on a ship—a small bunk built into the side of the ship for practical reasons. There are, of course, chests of treasure (less practical/realistic) too, but aside from that, the cabin space seems nice but not excessive. We can see a sword lying against one of the treasure chests as well as a gun rack near the door over what looks like a large globe. (We see a closer, brighter version of this gun rack a few scenes later as the captain is switching out his usual hook for a golden one.)

There appear to be some nice silver plates in the background of the image with Smee, and there are a few other frivolities that Hook allows himself, such as the piano, a small table with fruit and wine set out, and several nice rugs on the cabin floor. But his desk appears to be rather small and simple, cluttered only with maps of Neverland, pens and an inkwell, some useful measuring tools, a few books, and what would appear to be a jeweled set of binoculars.

Overall, Disney’s Hook does a nice job of balancing the luxurious and fanciful with the more practical and mundane in his personal space. It might be a stretch to imagine this Jolly Roger in the real-life Golden Age of Piracy, but it’s not totally out of place. Thus, Disney’s Hook straddles that line between reality and fiction that leaves us wondering—as Wendy and her parents do at the end of the film as they watch a cloud formation that looks remarkably like a ship pass in front of the moon—whether it was all a dream or perhaps there is more to it.

#captain hook #captain hook disney #disney peter pan #disney #disney villains #peter pan #james hook #captain james hook #the jolly roger

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fibula-rasa · 1 month

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Cosplay the Classics: Nazimova in Salomé (1922)—Part 1

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

The Importance of Being Peter: Nazimova’s Take on Wilde

With over two decades of professional acting experience behind her (six on the “shadow stage” of silent cinema), Alla Nazimova went independent. She was one of the highest paid stars in Hollywood at the start of 1922 when her contract with Metro ended. Almost exclusively using her own savings, Nazimova founded a new production company and immediately got to work on two films that reflected both a deep understanding of her own fan base and a faith in the American filmgoer’s appreciation for art.

Discourse around these films and their productions that have emerged in the century since their release are often peppered with over-simplifications or a lack of perspective. Focus is understandably placed on Salomé, as her first project, A Doll’s House (1922), has not survived. In part one of this series, I plan to contextualize Nazimova’s decision to commit Wilde’s drama to celluloid and examine the details of the adaptation. Then, in part two, I will cover how Salomé (and A Doll’s House) fits into the industry trends and the emergent studio system in the early 1920s.

While the full essay and more photos are available below the jump, you may find it easier to read (formatting-wise) on the wordpress site. Either way, I hope you enjoy the read!

Wilde’s Salomé: The Basics

Salomé was a one-act drama written by Oscar Wilde. In a creative challenge to himself, Salomé was one of Wilde’s first plays and he chose to write in French, which he did not have as complete a mastery of as of English. Wilde was directly inspired by the Flaubert story “Herodias,” which was, in turn, inspired by the short story which appears twice in the New Testament. The play was later translated into English and published with illustrations by artist Aubrey Beardsley. Wilde’s play was the basis of the opera of the same name by Richard Strauss. While both the opera and the play had been staged numerous times across Europe and in New York before Nazimova’s adaptation, Strauss’ opera was the main reference point for the story in the popular imagination of the time. The success of Strauss’ opera led to the popularization of the Dance of the Seven Veils and the accepted interpretation of the character as a classic femme fatale.

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

Nazimova’s Salomé: The Basics

When Nazimova announced her production of Salomé, she did so assured that she and Natacha Rambova, her art director, had a unique and creatively compelling interpretation of the story to warrant adaptation. Nazimova was not only the star and producer of Salomé, she adapted it from its source herself under her pen name Peter M. Winters. (Cheekily, contemporary interviews and profiles joke that “Peter” is one of her common nicknames.) Charles Bryant, credited as director, was as much the director of the film as he was Nazimova’s husband, which is to say, he is not known to have contributed much at all. It’s now accepted fact that Bryant acted as a professional beard (Bryant and Nazimova were also never legally married). The choice to credit Bryant was to offset the heat Nazimova was getting in the press at the time for “taking on too much.” Having Bryant’s name in the credits was a protective measure. Charles Van Enger was a talented, up-and-coming cinematographer who had been recommended to Nazimova following the inadequate cinematography of her Metro films.

Rambova was in charge of the art direction, set designs, costumes, and makeup. Nazimova and Rambova had become close artistic collaborators after Nazimova hired Rambova to design the fantasy sequence for her film Billions (1920, presumed lost). [You can learn more about Rambova’s career here.] Both women valued their work above all else. Both were convinced that film could be art. Both had the gumption to believe that they could make a lasting mark on cinema’s recognition as a legitimate medium of artistic expression.* (Spoiler: even though Salomé was not an unqualified box-office success, they were right.)

Photo of the Salomé crew from Exhibitors Herald, 29 April 1922. Original caption: Nazimova ordered this picture taken that she might be reminded of the real pleasure encountered in every stage of the production of “Salome.” Top, left to right: Monroe Bennett, laboratory; Charles Bryant, director; Mildred Early, secretary; John DePalma, assistant director. Second row: Sam Zimbalist, cutter; Natacha Rambova, art director; Charles J. Van Enger, cameraman; the star; R. W. McFarland, manager. Front row: Neal Jack, electrician; Paul Ivano, cameraman; Lewis Wilson, cameraman.

Nazimova’s independence was at least partly spurred on by feeling creatively bereft from her work at Metro. In a 1926 interview with Adela Rogers St. Johns, Nazimova said:

“You asked me why I made ‘Salome.’ Well—’Salome’ was a purgative. […] It seems impossible now that I should ever have been asked to play such parts as ‘The Heart of a Child’ and ‘Billions.’ But I was. And instead of saying, ‘No. I will not play such trash. I will not play roles so wholely [sic] unsuited to me in every way,’ I went on and played them because of my contract, and they ruined me. “WORSE than that, they [made] me sick with myself. So I did ‘Salome’ as a purgative. I wanted something so different, so fanciful, so artistic, that it would take the taste out of my mouth. ‘Salome’ was my protest against cheap realism. Maybe it was a mistake. But—I had to do it. It was not a mistake for me, myself.”

Given that Nazimova now had full creative freedom, outside of the confines of the Hollywood film factory, why were A Doll’s House and Salomé the first works she gravitated towards?

Initially, Nazimova had conceived of a “repertoire” concept for her productions: one shorter production (A Doll’s House) and one feature-length production (Salomé), which could be distributed and exhibited together. Once production was underway for ADH, Nazimova instead chose to make it a feature. The reasons for this decision that I found in contemporary sources are purely creative, but I don’t think it’s too much of a presumption that this may have been a financial choice, as profits from ADH (which unfortunately wouldn’t materialize—more on that in part two!) could have been cycled into Salomé’s production.

Ibsen was not popular source material for the silent screen, but Nazimova’s name and career was forever tied to the playwright as she is considered the actress who brought Ibsen to the US. (Minnie Maddern Fiske starred in a production of Hedda Gabbler in the US before Nazimova, however it failed to raise the profile of the writer.) Nazimova’s stage productions of Ibsen’s work proved that there was an audience for it in the US—both in New York and on tour. Superficially, ADH might seem like a risky proposition, but Nazimova had good reason to believe it had both artistic and box office potential. (Again, I’ll delve into why it might not have found its audience in part two.)

Nazimova as Nora in A Doll’s House

Though ADH is now lost, we know from surviving materials that Nazimova understood that by 1922 The New Woman archetype was already becoming passé to the post-war/post-pandemic generation of young women. Nazimova endeavored to translate the play in a way that would resonate with 1920s American womanhood. (How well she succeeded is lost to time unless we are lucky enough to recover a copy of the film.) Likewise, Nazimova approached her adaptation of Salomé with a keen eye for the concerns of modern independent women.

——— ——— ———

*Incidentally, both women also had a personal connection to Wilde. Nazimova was a close friend and colleague of Elizabeth Marbury, who worked as Wilde’s agent. Rambova spent summers at her aunt’s (Elsie de Wolfe) villa in France where she lived with her longtime partner, Marbury.

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

The Adolescence of Salome

In the decade following the end of the First World War, there was a great cultural shift for women in America, who experienced and pursued greater independence in society—particularly young and/or unmarried women. This quality was emblematized in the Flappers and the Jazz Babies, but even women who didn’t participate in these subcultures lived lifestyles removed from “home and family” ideals of the past. The lifestyle change was mirrored aesthetically. As Frederick Lewis Allen describes in Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s:

“These changes in fashion—the short skirt, the boyish form, the straight, long-waisted dresses, the frank use of paint—were signs of a real change in the American feminine ideal (as well, perhaps, as in men’s idea of what was the feminine ideal). […] the quest of slenderness, the flattening of the breasts, the vogue of short skirts (even when short skirts still suggested the appearance of a little girl), the juvenile effect of the long waist,—all were signs that, consciously or unconsciously, the women of this decade worshiped not merely youth, but unripened youth […] Youth was their pattern, but not youthful innocence: the adolescent whom they imitated was a hard-boiled adolescent, who thought not in terms of romantic love, but in terms of sex, and who made herself desirable not by that sly art that conceals art, but frankly and openly.”*

Allen’s summary of youthful womanhood in the 1920s resounds so clearly in the character design and performance of Nazimova’s Salomé, it’s apparent that she and Rambova were thoroughly informed by contemporary trends around young/independent women. Belén Ruiz Garrido puts it succinctly in her great essay on the film “Besare tu boca, Iokanaan. Arte y experiencia cinematografica en Salomé de Alla Nazimova:”

“Las concomitancias con la flapper o la it girl de los felices años veinte son evidentes. Se muestra mimosa, pero su seducción es como un juego de niña. / The similarities with the flapper or the it girl of the roaring twenties are obvious. She performs affection, but her seduction is like child’s play.” (translation mine)

Nazimova was also fully conscious that her fanbase was predominantly female and that she held significant appeal for younger women. From the moment she signed her first American theatrical contract with Lee Shubert, Nazimova’s status as a queer idol was already being established.

“The women… were enthusiastic about [Nazimova]… [At the hotel, the] ladies’ entrance was always crowded with women waiting for her to return from the theatre. It is much better that she should be exclusive and meet no one if possible. They regard her as a mystery. And there are other damned good reasons besides this one.” – citation: A. H. Canby to Lee Shubert, December 29, 1908**

While women, particularly middle-class women, were emerging as a prominent consumer group in the US, Nazimova’s popularity peaked on stage and on screen. Arriving in Hollywood, Nazimova also continued her trend of surrounding herself socially and professionally with other queer women. Profiles and interviews of Nazimova in the Hollywood press often contained coded language about her queerness as a wink and nudge, usually but not always accompanied by mention of her “husband” Charles Bryant.

This well-developed understanding of her primary fanbase led her to break from popular presentations of the character as an embodiment of monstrous feminine sensuality. Instead, Nazimova chose to present the character as an adolescent. While Nazimova was the first to put this read on the character on film, Marcella Craft chose an adolescent interpretation in a production Strauss’ opera in Munich and Hedwig Reicher was a teenager when she assayed the role and played it accordingly (also in Germany). (Maybe not insignificantly, Reicher was also working in Hollywood at the time of Salomé’s production.)***

This is the American pop culture landscape we’re talking about here, so of course women’s independence was rapidly codified for capitalization. Young women were moralized at for not conforming to traditional gender roles while simultaneously being framed as sexually desirable in order to sell consumer goods (including motion pictures!). The American way. It’s hard to not see social commentary in Nazimova’s reworking of this icon of wanton femininity for a new generation.

This isn’t to suggest that Nazimova’s Salomé glorifies the character, but rather that making Salomé a teen adds layers of complexity to the production. Considering it in conversation with her predecessors, Salomé isn’t even named in the New Testament stories. Flaubert built out the character with 19th century concerns in mind (though his story is more about Herod & Herodias) and Wilde shifted even more focus to Salomé. Nazimova continued that trend with her version of Salomé—an impetuous child too young and ill-equipped to constructively deal with the horrible environment she was brought up in. (Might that resonate with a generation of young people disillusioned by a World War and a pandemic?)

As Nazimova/Peter wrote in the opening intertitles to the film:

“It is at this point that the drama opens, revealing Salome who yet remains an uncontaminated blossom in a wilderness of evil.

“Though still innocent, Salome is a true daughter of her day, heiress to its passions and its cruelties. She kills the thing she loves; she loves the thing she kills, yet in her soul there shines the glimmer of the Light and she sets forth gladly into the Unknown to solve the puzzle of her own words——”

My cosplay of Nazimova as Salomé

As Salomé was an experiment in pantomime for screen acting, it’s worthwhile to look at how Nazimova embodies this image of youth in her performance. In the first scenes, Salomé’s facial expressions are pouty and her movements like a bored child’s. Her wig emphasizes every movement she makes with a flurry of pearls and creates a neotenous silhouette for the character. When denied access to Jokanaan, her facial expressions are imperious, but the imperiousness of a spoiled child. She swings on the bars imprisoning Jokanaan as if they are a jungle gym. As she “charms” Narraboth, her expressions and body language shift toward a scheming energy with barely concealed artifice, displaying a distinct lack of sophistication—like she’s trying to angle a second serving of ice cream not exacting a favor of a servant that could cost his life.

Perhaps most crucially, Salomé’s adolescence emphasizes the inappropriateness of men’s gaze upon her. Wilde’s drama is built around rhythmic repetition in the dialogue—a key repetition being the act of looking. Though the play is only one act, some form of “regarder” in relation to Salomé is repeated nineteen times—most often in some form of “don’t look at her” or “you shouldn’t look at her that way.” As Salomé is a silent film, to repeat this in intertitles nineteen times in intertitles would be absurd. Throughout the film, frequent close ups are strategically employed to visually recreate the rhythmic emphasis on gazing. (The purpose of this device seems to have been lost on one reviewer for Exhibitors Herald who said in his review: ”too many close ups.”) Additionally, the motif is foregrounded by front-loading the mentions of looking. As soon as the opening narration ends, we’re introduced to Herod behaving lecherously toward Salomé and Herodias telling him not to look at her. The perversity of Herod is amplified here because Salomé is not only his niece and his step-daughter, but also a child. This scene is followed by Narraboth and the page having a similar interaction, albeit with a different tone.

As Nazimova put it herself in a profile in Close-Up magazine:

“The men about her are obnoxious; they cannot even look upon her decently. She loathes them all. Even the Syrian [Narraboth] whose approach is of all the most respectful and decorous, is of his times and his love is tempered with the alloy of lust.”

In the film, Salomé’s rage against Herod is justified, and her rage against Jokanaan is a raw confusion of emotions—she doesn’t have the capacity to act constructively. When the first unfortunate man commits suicide over her, she barely takes notice, establishing Salome’s blasé attitude toward death. When the second man takes his life this time directly in front of her, Salomé only notices after almost tripping on his body. Her response is giving the body an annoyed kick for tripping her! The key phrase of the drama is “The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.” Salomé is surrounded by death, enveloped by it, but love (of any kind) is unknown to her until Jokanaan. So, when her love of Jokanaan is rebuked, she reverts to the only response that has been nurtured into her: death.

Nazimova’s Salomé is a perfect surviving example of a quality of her acting described in an uncredited review of Nazimova’s theatrical work:

“If the actress you’re seeing knows what she’s saying but you don’t, it’s Mrs. [Minnie Maddern] Fiske. But if the actress doesn’t know what she is saying and you do, it’s Alla Nazimova.”****

We as viewers understand what Salomé is going through, but she is being psychologically buffeted by fate and circumstance without ever comprehending the nature of it. The tumultuous feelings brought on by Salomé’s first brush with the spiritual (rather than the sexual), launches her into an accelerated ripening of her cruelty. This is masterfully communicated by Nazimova through facial expression and body language and accentuated by Rambova’s costuming.

As Herman Weinberg put it in his essay “The Function of the Actor:”

“The true film crystalizes action for us. ‘To see eternity in a grain of sand,’ the poet said. ‘To see a life cycle in an hour and a half’ is the modern screen parallel.”

Because of the emotional scale of Nazimova’s performance in Salomé, it has been variously described as “bizarre” or “grotesque”—though not always said derogatorily. That’s on point, as Nazimova’s performance is only one expression of her protest against realism in the film.

——— ——— ———

*If you’re interested in the 1920s at all, I highly recommend Allen’s book. The section this quote is from has a detailed survey of changes in American women’s lifestyles throughout the 1920s.

**as quoted in “Alla Nazimova: ‘The Witch of Makeup’” by Robert A. Schanke

***Gavin Lambert’s biography of Nazimova intimates that she referenced the 1917 Tairov production of Wilde’s Salomé, which she reportedly had a detailed description of. Reading about the production for myself in Mark Slonim’s Russian Theatre: from the Empire to the Soviets, I’m not sure what precisely she would have drawn from this production. It doesn’t seem to have much in common with the ‘22 film at all. That said, in a 1923 interview with Malcolm H. Oettinger in Picture-Play Magazine, Nazimova admits that in preparing for the film, she compiled a large scrapbook of previous productions and artistic interpretations of the story and character. Unfortunately, though Lambert clearly did voluminous research for his biography, his presentation and interpretation leaves a lot to be desired. Most of the things I tried to verify or try to find more information on from the book proved to be misrepresentations or were factually incorrect. So, I’m avoiding quoting Lambert without verification, unless what I’m citing is directly taken from a primary source; like a quote from Nazimova’s correspondence.

****quotation is from an uncredited clipping held by the Nazimova archive in Columbus, Georgia as quoted in Gavin Lambert’s biography

Illustration of Nazimova as Salomé by F. Corral from The Story World, March 1923

Nazimova and Rambova’s Modernist Phantasy

The assurance that Rambova and Nazimova felt that they had something new to bring to Salomé was obviously not solely founded in a character interpretation updated for the screen and for the decade. The two crafted a singular work born of pastiche in a manner that genuinely had not been done before in the American film industry. It’s often repeated that Salomé is America’s first art film. This may have its origin in promotional materials* made for the initial release of the film. Before the film’s official release, Bryant, Nazimova, and Paul Ivano (assistant camera & Nazimova’s on-again-off-again lover) arranged preview screenings and a few reviews from those screenings mention in some form that Salomé was a direct retort to the notion that art cannot be made with a camera.

What constituted the Nazimova/Rambova strategy to elevate film to the status of art? Both women had around six years of experience working in film (twelve collectively), but both came from a live performance background—theatrical acting and ballet respectively. Salomé is a film based on a stage play (though not strictly based on any one production of that play). Salomé inherits its symbology (first and foremost the moon) from its source material, but the filmmakers found creative ways of communicating and remixing symbols for the camera. The art design is inspired by Aubrey Beardsley’s illustrations for a printed edition of the play, though Rambova pulled more broadly from art-nouveau to devise designs that are in no way unoriginal.

As for the much discussed Dance of the Seven Veils, in my opinion, Nazimova’s execution is inspired by the dance described in Flaubert’s “Herodias” rather than a previous live performance.

“Again the dancer paused; then, like a flash, she threw herself upon the palms of her hands, while her feet rose straight up into the air. In this bizarre pose she moved about upon the floor like a gigantic beetle; then stood motionless.

“The nape of her neck formed a right angle with her vertebrae. The full silken skirts of pale hues that enveloped her limbs when she stood erect, now fell to her shoulders and surrounded her face like a rainbow. Her lips were tinted a deep crimson, her arched eyebrows were black as jet, her glowing eyes had an almost terrible radiance; and the tiny drops of perspiration on her forehead looked like dew upon white marble.”

Clearly, I’m not implying that what’s described above is exactly what we see on screen. My thought instead is that Nazimova may have drawn inspiration for the dance to be provocative in an uncanny way instead of provocative in a conventionally sensuous way. What we do see on screen is a distinct lack of practiced sensuality and an element of menace. The former comes both from Salomé’s youthfulness and from the logic that, as Salomé has already gotten Herod to give her his word in front of dignitaries, there’s no need for seduction. The latter is brought on by the expression of Salomé’s fractured emotional state and feelings about Herod. In execution, the use of close-ups again serves a major purpose. Intercutting close-up reactions from those gathered at the court provides a crescendo to the motif of looking, which is then pivotally reversed in the kiss scene. Cutting to close-ups of Salomé’s face accents the ecstatic and maniacal quality of the dance. Together this variation of shots creates an effect that could only work on film.

Salomé has a significant appreciation for its non-cinematic antecedents, but filtered through the prism of Nazimova’s and Rambova’s own creative strengths and sensibilities—a melding of theater and graphic art into something not only fresh but also totally cinematic.

It speaks to their filmmaking skill that all of these ideas and influences do in fact come together as a cohesive yet wholly unconventional film. Some critics of Salomé (both contemporary and modern) will cite vague notions of theatricality, or state that the film is only a series of tableaux, or that the limited sets don’t depart enough from a stage presentation. Art is in the eye of the beholder, but I think whether those specific elements preclude Salomé from being cinematic is a matter of perspective.

The oversized, stylized nature of Salomé’ssets might at first register as theatrical, but those same sets also serve to amp up the anti-real nature of the film. It’s uncharitable to Rambova to suggest that this artificiality was not a conscious artistic decision. If you have seen the sequences she designed with Mitchell Leisen for De Mille’s Forbidden Fruit (1921) then you have seen her demonstrated understanding of how designs register on camera. The gorgeously executed lighting effects in Salomé that are employed to to sublimate tone shifts could feasibly be recreated in a theatrical setting, here, filtered through the camera of Van Enger, register as thoroughly cinematic.

To once again quote “The Function of the Actor” by Weinberg:

“In nine movies out of ten (most particularly those emanating from the film factories of Hollywood), the actors stand around and talk to each other, relieved only by periodic bursts of someone going in or out of a doorway. (Sixty percent of the action in the average Hollywood movie consists of people going in and out of doors.) […]

“The actor going through a doorway may be a necessary device on the stage, to get him on and off. But Pudovkin has made a neat distinction between the realities of stage and screen: ‘The film assembles the elements of reality to build from them a new reality proper to itself; and the laws of time and space that, in sets and footage of the stage are fixed and fast, are in the film entirely altered.’ On the stage, that is, an event seems to occur in the same length of time it would occupy in life. On the screen, however, the camera records only the significant parts of the event, and so the filmic time is shorter than the real time of the event.”

Weinberg cites Pudovkin in an amusing but illustrative way here. People may throw “overly theatrical” or “stagey” casually, but more often than not the distinction between theatrical/cinematic comes down to how space and time is traversed. Even if the base material, a narrative drama for example, is shared between stage and screen, there should be a thoughtful construction of geography and chronology. Could Salomé have played more creatively with space? Perhaps. But, for a film made in early 1922, its creative geography isn’t all that uninventive. The majority of the action in Salomé takes place exclusively on one set, so it does rely a lot on the types of comings and goings that Weinberg identifies with theatre. That said, there are some comings and goings that forcefully pull the audience away from the feeling of stagey-ness. The most consequential occurs in the scene with the first suicide, which I previously mentioned in the context of developing Salomé‘s character and environment. The man runs to the ledge of the courtyard, beholds the moon, and leaps. Cut to a wide, back-lit shot of the figure plunging to nowhere, establishing that the city above the clouds depicted in the art titles and opening credits is the actual physical location that film is taking place in. It’s a genuinely startling moment in the film and Salomé’s most evocative use of creative geography.

The majority of legitimate critical appraisal at the time of Salomé’s release recognize it as an achievement in film art, even highlighting artsiness as a potential selling point. As art cinemas started popping up in the US, Salomé stayed in circulation. Appreciation grew. Legends emerged around its production. And, now one hundred years later, it’s safe to say that Salomé has earned and kept its place as a fixture of the history of film art. As we are lucky enough to have the complete film to watch, assess, reassess, and debate its qualities as a work of cinematic art, I’m positive that conversation on Salomé will continue.

So, if Salomé was appreciated in its time, why did it ruin and bankrupt Nazimova? What was going on in the American film industry at the time? Find out in part two!

“If we have made something fine, something lasting, it is enough. The commercial end of it does not interest me at all. I hate it. This I do know: we must live, and I must live well. I have suffered—enough. Never again shall I suffer. But most of all am I concerned in creating something that will lift us all above this petty level of earthly things. My work is my god. I want to build what I know is fine, what I feel calling for expression. I must be true to my ideals—” — Nazimova on Salomé quoted in “The Complete Artiste” by Malcolm Oettinger

——— ——— ———

*As of the time of writing, I haven’t been able to track down a complete copy for the campaign book for the film, so I’m relying on fragments, quotes, and second-hand references to its content.

——— ——— ———

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

——— ——— ———

Bibliography/Further Reading

(This isn’t an exhaustive list, but covers what’s most relevant to the essay above!)

Salomé by Oscar Wilde [French/English]

“Herodias” by Gustave Flaubert [English]

Cosplay the Classics: Natacha Rambova

Lost, but Not Forgotten: A Doll’s House (1922)

“Temperament? Certainly, says Nazimova” by Adela Rogers St. Johns in Photoplay, October 1926

“Newspaper Opinions” in The Film Daily, 3 January 1923

“Splendid Production Values But No Kick in Nazimova’s “Salome” in The Film Daily, 7 January 1923

“SALOME” in The Story World, March 1923

“SALOME’ —Class AA” from Screen Opinions, 15 February 1923

“The Complete Artiste” by Malcolm H. Oettinger in Picture-Play Magazine, April 1923

“Famous Salomes” by Willard H. Wright in Motion Picture Classic, October 1922

“Nazimova’s ‘Salome’” by Walter Anthony in Closeup, 5 January 1923

“Alla Nazimova: ‘The Witch of Makeup’” by Robert A. Schanke in Passing Performances: Queer Readings of Leading Players in American Theater History

“Besare tu boca, Iokanaan. Arte y experiencia cinematografica en Salome de Alla Nazimova” by Belén Ruiz Garrido (Wish I had read this at the beginning of my research and writing instead of near the end as it touches upon a few of the same points as my essay! Highly recommended!)

“The Function of the Actor” by Herman Weinberg

“‘Out Salomeing Salome’: Dance, The New Woman, and Fan Magazine Orientalism” by Gaylyn Studlar in Visions of the East: Orientalism in Film

Nazimova: A Biography by Gavin Lambert (Note: I do not recommend this without caveat even though it’s the only monograph biography of Nazimova. Lambert did a commendable amount of research but his presentation of that research is ruined by misrepresentations, factual errors, and a general tendency to make unfounded assumptions about Nazimova’s motivations and personal feelings.)

Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s by Frederick Lewis Allen

Russian Theatre: from the Empire to the Soviets by Mark Slonim

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enlitment · 4 months

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Top 5 underappreciated historical figures!

Thanks for the ask! This one was super fun, but also super difficult to answer. I've purposefully avoided mentioning the ladies of the French Revolution, since I have another question specifically about them lined up.

With that being said, in no particular order:

Fulvia

Anyone in the classics circle likely knows much more about her than I do, but I'm so glad I've discovered her through Tumblr! All of the things I've learned about her so far have been so interesting. It's incredible to see how much political (and military) power a Roman woman was able to yield despite living in a deeply patriarchal society.

(also, the part of me that loves drama really appreciates the story about her stabbing Cicero's tongue with hairpins after the proscriptions and Octavian's atrocious poem about her)

2. Émilie du Châtelet

Also hardly a surprise for anyone who's been following me for a while. Again, the fact that I've only relatively recently found out that there was a female mathematician and physicist in the fist half of the 18th century with such significant contributions to the field makes me almost feel as if I've been lied to.

She is special to me both because she was incredibly smart (she was able to understand Newton like few other people in her time and she spoke so many languages!) but there's also something about her writing that makes her feel deeply human and relatable. I've read some of her texts, and not only are they written in a beautiful prose but they're also incredibly moving. Her view on how to achieve happiness in life is one of the best I've ever came across, and her arguments for the education of women always make me feel so emotional...

...when she says that it was only after she realised that the circle of (male) French intellectuals accepted her among themselves and treated her as equal that she realised she too "might be a thinking creature"... I don't know, there's something about it that always gets to me.

Okay, time to introduce some male historical figures as well! This one is a residue from the time when I was really into the American Revolution.

3. Peter Stephen Du Ponceau

He was probably the only one in Baron von Steuben's original group that was able to speak decent English when they first arrived in the US to join the revolutionary war, which a) makes him quite important b) is kind of funny to think about.

But what I especially like about him is that he was a talented linguist who seemed to have genuine respect for other cultures, which let's face it, was quite rare in his times. While taking part in the American Revolutionary War, he recorded and studied the languages of Native American People. How cool is that?

(He was also potentially queer and I do have a soft spot for queer history)

Okay, guess should bring up someone interesting from Czech history as well. I fully confess that my own country's history is not necessarily my favourite area of study, but for her, I'll always make an exception:

4. Milena Jesenská

Probably most well known as Kafka's (kind of?) girlfriend/pen pal, but there is so much more to her story!

She was a writer and a journalist during the first half of the 20th century. She was really talented and soon made a reputation for herself, which let's face it, wasn't an easy thing to do for women in her time.

After Czechia became occupied by Nazi Germany, she joined the resistance movement and helped Jewish families to escape. She was later transported to a concentration camp, where she worked as a nurse and was said to have been "a moral support for other prisoners". She unfortunately died there when she was only 47. Still, what a life!

5. John Polidori

He's not necessarily my number one favourite person but I'd argue he is one of the most unappreciated figures. Vampires in fiction are massively popular but he rarely gets credited as one of its first authors. (Also the theory that Lord Ruthven, the charismatic, immoral aristocrat featured in The Vampyre is heavily based off on Lord Byron is not only entirely plausible but also quite funny).

Whenever I read something about the Geneva Squad, I always end up feeling kind of bad for him. As a foreigner, someone who was of a lower social status and - since he technically came along as Byron's personal physician - a paid employee, it just seems to me like he was never actually fully part of the group. Maybe I'm wrong, but to me, he felt kind of like a perpetual outsider. Lord Byron also got the credit for writing The Vampyre that should have gone to Polidori.

He was of course far from a perfect saint, with his drug and gambling addiction, but I still can't help but feel that he deserved better.

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rainintheevening · 4 months

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Susan Anna Pevensie

No one else could have picked out the tremor in those graceful loops of ink, but she did. He did.

His hand, as he took the pen, was warm, and she caught his whisper as he bent down: "See there, you are an artist. What do I keep telling you?"

She smiled, just a little.

He signed and dated, and she leaned into his hip, grateful, throat aching as she wrapped her fingers tighter around the bouquet in her lap. Five white lilies, and two red roses, and forget-me-nots all around.

They would drive out to the cemetery afterward. Fred had been the one to suggest it, to let her know it was alright, even natural, to remember the dead on a day celebrating new life.

She looked up, sat straighter as he laid down the pen and made room for the witnesses to step in.

Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington

She let herself smile at the dreadful, smudged left-handed signature. "No, that's what tells me you're the artist, dear."

"I suppose I'll have to choose which name to put on the paintings," he said thoughtfully. "Ah, Pilkington for the bad ones, Pevensie for the good ones, I suppose."

And when her eyes filled up with tears, she felt his arm around her shoulders, and his kiss in her hair, and she closed her eyes, thinking I don't deserve him. I don't deserve him at all. How did he ever come to choose me?

She was so uncertain about things, so careful and guarded and prickly. She had very nearly driven him away twice. But he had come back, he had stayed in her life, and now he was choosing to be in it for the rest of it.

As long as we both shall live.

Susan closed her eyes as their lips found each other, let the tears spill down her cheeks.

I don't think I deserve it, she was saying in her heart. But I choose you back. I choose you too.

The tears didn't show in the pictures, only her standing there in Mother's old wedding dress, clutching her flowers, and Fred in his old uniform, arms around her waist, resting his chin on her head.

Susan, from the Hebrew Shoshana/Shoshan, meaning lotus flower or lily, also suggestive of purity and beauty. The name of Dr. Susan Crocker, a pioneering physician. The name of Susan B. Anthony an American suffragist. The name of Susan Hiscock, MBE, who crewed with her husband aboard their sailing ship.

A name, before it's explosion of popularity c. 1930, characterized by several poets, societal reformers, physicians, journalists, and freethinkers.

It was his suggestion, taking her name on the end of his.

"Look, I've got five older brothers, Lord knows there's enough Pilkingtons in the world. We aren't rich, we aren't titled, honestly, I'm not sure my parents would even notice if I went and became a Communist. They won't mind. I'd be honoured to carry on the Pevensie name, and no mistake."

Susan had thought of her father, how she'd brushed him off, ignored his advice, called him old and 'stuck in tradition'. She hadn't said anything mean when she'd left for America, but she certainly hadn't said anything kind or particularly loving.

She'd come back after the accident, come back to England with one suitcase and a hatbox, and never even considered leaving again.

How could she leave when all that had really mattered was here? Here but gone. All gone to ghosts, holes in the fabric of her reality, in the space of an empty armchair, a silent kitchen, rumpled sheets on a bed, unfinished letters, overdue library books.

Fred had been the first real, solid thing in her life After.

And she couldn't help thinking how her father would like him. All this time, and she still cared what he thought, wished he could have been there to walk her down a church aisle– She tried not to think too hard about that.

"Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington Pevensie. That's as posh a name as my mother could possibly wish for." Fred had taken her hand, let his grin fade down to a soft smile. "But only if it's alright with you, love."

To her knowledge, Peter had been quite comfortable as a bachelor, but Ed had been close to engaged (she'd found the ring in his sock drawer); they would both have been wonderful fathers, both would have liked Fred.

She'd wiped her cheeks. "Sorry, I keep thinking I'll stop crying one of these days."

"Doesn't have to be today," he'd said, passing over a hanky.

"I think they'd be honoured," she said at last. "To have it be you. My family name—it's something I share with them, and... I'd be happy to keep it."

"Then keep it you shall."

Anna, Latin form of the Hebrew Hannah, meaning favoured one or one shown grace. The name of a prophetess and attendant at the dedication of Jesus who is called Christ in Jerusalem.

"And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all that looked for redemption in Jerusalem."

An elderly widow, a faithful worshiper of God in His temple, great in fasting and prayer, one of the first evangelists.

The taxi pulled away from the cemetery as the sun set into a bank of rising cloud, and Susan knew that rain was on its way.

But the rain was just as important to the spring as the sunshine, she thought, and shuffled over on the seat to curl into Fred's side.

He patted her knee, left his hand there, warm and heavy. Real. Solid. For all his dreaming artist eyes, Fred was solid, certain, strong enough to hold her on the difficult days, of which there were always more than she wanted.

The ring on her finger was its own kind of heavy, permanent, binding, and she needed that, needed a promise, needed something to quash the fears that choked her in the night.

They took a taxi home on their wedding night, home to the house she'd sworn she couldn't stay in, found she couldn't sell, and so compromised by working two jobs, and hardly ever being there.

Home to the old house she'd grown up in, rebuilt from the bombings, adapted and weathered and haunted by the empty places of people gone.

It had gotten better since Fred. She'd changed things, deliberately, a curtain here and a painting there, opened up the crates and jumbled everybody's books together on the shelves.

As they climbed the steps, she saw the lamp glowed in the front window, with another light shining back in the kitchen, and smiled, thanking Coraline in her heart. Her friend would no doubt be ducking out the back door that very moment, scampering across the back garden, and shimmying through the hedge, as if she were a girl of sixteen, and not a woman of thirty. There would be something warm in the oven, and the kettle waiting on the stove, and two places laid.

"Well, Mrs. Pevensie." Fred put his hand on the doorknob, drew her close against his side. "Shall we?"

Shall we go in? Shall we go into the home that is everything that came before, but is ours now too to make new? Shall we start something? Shall we continue? Shall we come home together?

She stood on her toes, and kissed him with a tremoring smile. "Yes, Mr. Pevensie. With pleasure."

#she carried the fourth child through that door #a little girl in a soft blue blanket #'grace' she said #'grace' to helen and pete and tommy crowding round and talking fast like a flock of crows #'her name is grace'#susan pevensie #post last battle #narnia fanfiction #my writing #chronicles of narnia #loved using the middle name anna #it's my name :)#and grace. she finds a lot of grace in it all at the end of it all #fred i actually invented a few years ago #i love him so much #he's an absolute brick #peter and edmund really would like him a lot #narnia

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itsjaywalkers · 5 months

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babe i miss ur rants like crazy so if u have any rant that needs to be indulged this is me indulging u <3333

this actually made me so soft.. i didn't know there was someone who enjoyed my rants so much.. i always feel kinda annoying.. i'm giving u the biggest forehead kiss in the world nonnie YOU'RE THE BEST

this being said . well

lately i've been thinking a lot about this band au i don't know if i'll ever write or if it'll just stay in my head, bc when i first started reading fanfiction i was OBSESSED with band aus and even tho i'm not that into them anymore . they make me feel very nostalgic and happy so i was like u know what . i should come up with my own. AND THAT'S WHAT I DID!!

anyways it's a dual pov, james and lily's!! they used to date, and since james is the lead singer in a very popular band, they were the it couple back then, everyone was fucking obsessed with them, said they were Perfect, peak romance, they wanted what they had etc etc. lily even sang with him sometimes when the band went on tour, bc she has a beautiful voice and all the fans kept pushing for her to join the band and sing all the ballads with james etc

but then . all of a sudden . she disappeared . not literally, you know, she just fucking ran away, without telling a single soul. she didn't even leave a letter to james, or maybe remus, who was one of her best friends. james was devastated, the band was devastated, the whole world was devastated. they went on hiatus for a lil before coming back with a very different vibe and since then . well . no one talks about lily evans . reporters try to bring her up every now and again bc they're nosy fuckers but james goes all stiff and his replies become stilted (even if still perfectly professional)

flashforward to . when the story actually starts . a new band has just debuted and it's rising to fame concernigly quick and james remus sirius and peter are going Crazy bc they feel a bit threatened and also oh would u look at that?? if it isn't sirius' estranged brother in the flesh!! playing the drums for this stupid band who's trying to compete with them!!

and if that wasn't enough !! lily finally returns to their lives............... she's also making a debut but as a soloist.............. and she's very Different from the lily they remember................... her songs are loud and aggressive and filled with resentment and very obviously about james and their relationship and james' friends. she's mean and bold and witty and everyone is Wondering if there was more to her disappearance than what they thought

it'll be jegulus and bartylily <3 and one of the reasons why idk if i'll ever write it it's bc one of the reasons why lily left is that she got pregnant and she didn't want it so she aborted and . we all know how this fandom gets about lily and motherhood lmao

anyways one of the scenes that's been plaguing my mind is this one that happens after lily and barty have started sleeping together and spending more and more time in each other's presence!! they're in barty's flat and barty wakes up at some point in the middle of the night just to discover he's alone in bed. so he wakes up and finds lily sitting at the kitchen table, notebook open, pen in hand and humming under her breath. he hugs her from behind and sees she's writing something new and they talk a lil, bicker some and tease even more, and then barty tells her she should write a song about him and stop dissing that stupid ex bf of hers bc it's getting old. lily laughs and asks him if he wants a cheesy love song and barty cackles and shakes his head and says that he'd rather have one of her dissing songs, bc they're fun and likes it when she gets all mean. besides, the press wouldn't believe her if she wrote something nice or sweet about him bc barty is always getting into scandal after scandal

lily does end up writing a song about barty, dissing him (affectionately except ppl don't know that) and when she first performs it live, she does so while just wearing one of barty's shirts and barty laughs the whole time while sporting the biggest heart eyes known to mankind

#asks #anons #bartylily

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 6 months

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I think the general idea for Batman (and DC/Marvel in general) canon is basically just the multiverse model. Like the mainline comics get respect for being the first one to exist, and of course you get the obnoxious idiots who whinge about how and deviation from the comics is Bad and Wrong, but otherwise the various different shows and movies are all their own seperate canons. Like BTAS Batman has his own canon, with only Dick and Tim as Robins and ending with him passing the Batman identity to Terry, but no one expects that to impact the comics. (Well, beyond massively popular characters from the other canons like Harley Quinn inevitably showing up in comics too.)

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that Batman as a story is big enough and has so many canons that it's really not unusual to be a Batman fan without ever reading the mainline comics.

It's an entry point thing. So take, I don't know, Middle Earth, for example. (Though technically, as broad as that phrasing is, even that isn't accurate because there are other places outside of Middle Earth that are still within the same universe. Don't come at me.)

There's capital C Canon, and that's the original books as penned by J.R.R. Tolkien (though even he dabbled in some metatextual rewriting with the retcon of the Ring between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings but we won't get into THAT right now.) The world of Middle Earth as a whole was created starting in the 1930s as a piece of literature up through J.R.R. Tolkien's death in 1973.

From there, though, it gets trickier. The stories of Middle Earth et al have been transformed and added to in the intervening years. Bakshi created an animated movie in the late 1970s that, because it is told in a different medium, by necessity tells a slightly different story. Is that canon? The live-action trilogies from Peter Jackson in the 2000s and 2010s, those are again different and diverging stories from the books. Are those canon? What about the added materials from Christopher Tolkien, as revised and published from his father's materials by the estate? Are those canon? What about the Amazon Prime television series? The Veggietales movie? They're ALL "Middle Earth" and all likely have functioned as the initial entry point for someone and therefore ARE capital C Canon for someone, but by design or circumstance each displays a different version of events and characterization that will necessarily conflict in small or large ways.

With comic-based canon, it can be even more complicated because Hollywood has a habit of skinning comic properties and dressing up new little blorbos in the names of older comic characters. Even I know the Nolan Batman movies look noooooooooothing like the Silver Age Batman comics and the Birds of Prey Cassandra Cain has no relation at all to any other Canon or canon depiction of her, as far as I'm aware.

So, yes. "Batman as a story is big enough and has so many canons that it's really not unusual to be a Batman fan without ever reading the mainline comics" because defining canon in and of itself is such a HARD and complicated thing to do. And I also understand why folks with a much more simplistic and rigid definition of canon (aka, their own specific, personal entry point to the world and characters) can feel so weird when they encounter someone else with a different definition.

But also I think there's an argument to be made that when the Arbiters Of Official Canon (in this case, DC) have aggressively rebooted and rewritten THEIR OWN CANON so many times without regard for continuity or even inherent internal logic, then there is no absolute authority of Canon or canon and we can all do what we want with the understanding that when you or I or anyone else gripes about "canon" and "characterization" we're speaking only within our own pocket of the bramble.

#I'm not even sure how clear any of that is outside my own head #but I Tried #I need a general ask tag #fandom #fanfic writer problems #fanfic reader problems #batman #batfam

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foreverbase1 · 5 months

Text

Outdoor Pool ❣ Seok Matthew

❥𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: popular!Seok Matthew x gn!reader

❥𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k words

❥𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: High School AU, Angst, Unrequited Love

❥𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Prepare to be sad

❥𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Outdoor Pool by Maisie Peters (tweaked some lyrics to fit with the characters featured in the fic)

❥𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Kep1er's Yeseo & Chaehyun (mentioned), Aespa's Winter (mentioned) and ZB1's Taerae (mentioned)

❥𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Reader falls for the popular boy at school and gets their heart broken

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬! <𝟑

"𝘽𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩, 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙮. 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚, 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙃𝙈𝙑."

You sat in your Chemistry class, tapping your pen against the desk. You stared at the clock above the teacher's desk waiting for it to signal the end of class. Sat next to you was your friend, Yeseo, who leaned over and whispered to you. "Can you stop tapping your pen, it's annoying" You simply rolled your eyes at her, but obeyed and stopped, your eyes wandered as you drowned out the teacher's words, completely uninterested in this class.

That's when your eyes landed on 𝘩𝘪𝘮, Seok Matthew, the most popular boy in your school. He was the school's star player on the sports team, not only that but he was top of his classes even if he skipped out on studying, he practically had the whole school wrapped around his finger. There were students falling for him with every step he took, had a big group of friends who adored him and not only that, but he was the first student in the entire school to get a driver's license.

You at first had no interest in the boy, he was just popular and you weren't so popular, so you chose to keep your distance. But even with the distance, you found yourself admiring him from afar, he was good looking and he was nice so who could blame you for growing a tiny crush on the boy. But even with that tiny crush, you knew he was far out of your league, cause why would someone of his status be interested in you?

The bell would ring out loudly, it was finally the end of class. You and Yeseo gathered your stuff before making your way towards your next class, while on the way, you and your friend couldn't help but overhear a group of students gossiping between each other. That's when two familiar names popped up in the conversation that caught your attention; Seok Matthew and Kim Chaehyun.

From what you were hearing, Matthew had taken Chaehyun out soon after he got his driver's license and his first car. You don't know why you were surprised, Chaehyun was the most popular girl in your school, she was on the same status as Matthew so why would it be shocking for the two most popular students to go out together? Yeseo would pull you out of your eavesdropping as she tugged on your arm to stop you from bumping into other students.

"Stay focused, who cares about the gossip?" She sighed as you two began ascending the staircase. "Sorry....." You muttered an apology, although she definitely could not hear your quiet voice amongst the loud conversations being carried out by the other students.

"𝙎𝙖𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙩, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙢, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

Your mom had ended up dragging you with her to pick up some groceries for dinner that night soon after you got home, while you wanted to stay home and drown yourself away in studying or catching up on your favorite show, you ended up agreeing anyway. Besides, you could probably charm her into buying you something.

While waiting for her to decide between which fruit she wanted to get, you stood to the side by the cart holding your groceries. You let your eyes scan the store and take note of each shelf stocked neatly with different items, but that's when your eyes landed on a lock of blonde hair that belonged to an all too familiar face. It was Matthew, he was here? You were honestly surprised to see him here of all places, especially with his own mom.

Matthew's eyes locked with yours and you felt your heartrate speed up. Your chest tightened and you felt the butterfly's erupt within your stomach, Matthew smiled and gave you a small wave your own body moving on it's own as if it was natural and waved back, a smile gracing your face too. Right before his mom had dragged him down a different aisle and he disappeared from. your line of sight.

Your mom cleared her throat and you quickly turned around, a blush on your face. She smiled at you having seen the whole interaction "Is that your boyfriend?" She teased, this caused you to groan out and walk off towards the check out area followed by your mom who just laughed to herself at your reaction.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙛 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖 𝙒𝙚𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙪𝙥. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥."

That night was something you never would've expected to happen, you never even dreamt of it happening. But here you were taking your makeup off in your bedroom when you heard a tiny clink, you paused waiting to see if the sound would happen again and it did, another clink.

You turned towards your window and there it was again, another clink. You pulled open your curtains and your eyes widened at the sight before them. Standing in your garden just below your bedroom window was Matthew, he was tossing small pebbles at your window in hopes of catching your attention. Opening your window, you looked down at him, his face lighting up as a smile spread across his lips. "Wanna come out?" His voice, quiet, yet just loud enough for you to hear danced through the air.

You wanted to say no, after all it was a school night and if your parents knew you had snuck out they would kill you. Especially if it was with a boy. But something inside you told you to take his offer, when would you get another chance with 𝘵𝘩𝘦 popular boy of your school? Here he was asking 𝘺𝘰𝘶 to accompany him, who were you to say no?

So you quickly went over to your wardrobe, gliding your hand through the different array of clothing inside and quickly threw on a light grey long sleeved shirt alongside a pair of shorts. You silently prayed your parents wouldn't wake up as you put your shoes and began to climb out of your bedroom window. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be rebellious for one night.

"𝙒𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡"

While climbing out of your bedroom window, you ended up getting stuck halfway down and Matthew realized this. "I'll catch you" He spoke up to you, your heart did a front flip, your head turning to look at him. He smiled again, that sweet smile that anyone would fall for. "I promise" and with those final words you breathed in before jumping, falling right into his arms that encircled your torso and held you close to his body.

The world seemed to stop around you as you stared into his eyes, Matthew smiled at you before placing you down onto the ground. "T-thanks" You thanked him as you took a step back, he nodded his head before he intertwined your hands together, your fingers fitting perfectly together. "C'mon, i have somewhere in mind" Your heart did another front flip, your brain short circuting at his hand being intertwined with yours.

He led you by the hand down the street, stopping at a house only about a 20 minute walk away from yours. You stared at him with a confused look and he simply laughed at your expression, his laugh sounded like a choir of angels to you, you would've listened to it on loop 24/7 if you could. "It's Taerae's house, him and his parents are away on vacation and i asked him beforehand for permission. So don't worry" Matthew grinned at you and you couldn't form any words so you simply nodded your head.

Leading you once again by your conjoined hands, Matthew would lead you behind Taerae's house, where your eyes caught a glimpse of the blue water reflecting the moonlight's glow. It was Taerae's outdoor pool. You were once again confused, why would Matthew bring you here? You felt the warmth of his hand leave yours and you missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

Turning to face him, your eyes were met with his bare chest. You quickly covered your eyes, your cheeks burning bright red causing Matthew to laugh at your reaction. "It's okay, you can look, i won't judge" He teased you as he pulled your hands away from your face. Your eyes scanned his chest and you cursed yourself mentally for giving in so easily.

He began to pull you towards the pool, stepping in first and looking up at you expecting you to follow after. "Oh, i.....i can't swim" You said, embarrassed by the fact that Matthew wanted you to join him in the pool and you couldn't due to the fact you never learned how to swim. Matthew simply smiled and shook his head. "That's fine, you can watch me swim" He winked at you and you blushed, clearing your throat as you sat at the edge of the pool, letting your legs sink into the water.

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡."

You softly kicked your legs in the lukewarm water, admiring as Matthew splashed about in the water. You were sure if anyone else was watching, they'd be able to tell you were giving the boy heart eyes. Matthew brought you out of your daydreaming as you felt a splash of lukewarm water hit you.

You gasped as you focused in on Matthew as he splashed about, laughing to himself. "You did not" You tried to sound irritated, but the obvious smile growing on your lips and the laugh you let slip out with your words made it obvious you enjoyed his company. Matthew simply nodded his head at you, a laugh escaping past his own lips. "I did, what are you gonna do about it?" He challenged and you shook your head, bringing your hands into s cupping motion as you leaned forward and splashed water back at him.

"Oh it's on" Matthew accepted the challenge and that's how you two began to have a water fight in Taerae's outdoor pool at night. Hours passed by fast as you and Matthew continued to splashed water at the other, your laughs painting the midnight air. During the water fight, you had failed to notice Matthew had inched closer to you each time he splashed water at you, causing you to flinch and turn away to defend yourself.

When he was just close enough, he grabbed your arms and pulled you into the pool with him. His arms encircled your body and lifted you up, your own arms encircling themselves naturally around his neck in an attempt to look for something to hoist you up in the water. You looked into his eyes and your laughter died out as you both floated about in the water. You stared at him with the most obvious heart eyes, but you were too high on love that you had noticed that Matthew's eyes showed everything but reciprocation.

You could feel his breath on your face as he leaned closer, your own eyes scanning his face, your eyes closing automation as his lips encased yours. You felt fireworks erupt in your chest, the butterfly's once again dancing around in your stomach. As you enjoyed the kiss, the next door neighbor's porch light turned on, causing you and Matthew's lips to part. "Shit" Matthew muttered, he helped you out of the pool as you two scurried away before you could get caught by Taerae's neighbor.

Matthew walked you home and helped you climb back up through your window, you smiled down at him, love bring evident in your eyes as you bid him a goodnight, closing your window and drawing the curtains. You sighed contently to yourself as you went to dry off, change into your pyjamas and get under the warm covers of your bed. A smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

"𝙄 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚. 𝙄𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙? 𝙂𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙄 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙"

The next day at school, you couldn't hide the smile on your face. Yeseo was creeped out especially with how you never smiled this much, she looked at you trying to figure out what exactly got you so happy. "Spill" She said, finally giving up after she couldn't pinpoint an exact reason.

You couldn't stop smiling as you looked at her. "I'll tell you at the lockers after class, promise" you said, giggling to yourself. Yeseo only rolled her eyes as she focused on her notes, you sat in your seat with clear excitement, your eyes darting to the door as Matthew stepped inside. You immediately sat up, waving to him as he walked by. "Hi, Matthew" you tried to greet him, but he simply walked past you as if he didn't even know you existed.

You simply shrugged it off as him not hearing you, yeah, that had to be it. There was no reason for him to not greet you back unless he didn't hear you. You kept telling yourself that, to reassure yourself that he liked you too. So you tried to focus as you began to take down notes, trying to ease your mind.

After class had finished, you were planning to walk up to Matthew, but luck wasn't on your side as he was dragged away by his friends. This left you with no opening to talk with him, Yeseo stood up her arm intertwining with yours as she dragged you out of the classroom and towards the lockers, she wanted to hear about what got you so happy.

As you stood by the lockers, you breathed in to prepare yourself to rant to your best friend and you could tell she was mentally preparing herself too. But the words you wanted to say as you would hear the voice of that same group of girls yesterday talking about how Matthew had taken Chaehyun out in his new car. This time, however, it was a completely new topic.

A topic you wished you hadn't overheard, maybe it could've prevented the inevitable heartbreak you were bound to endure either way. Yeseo noticed your hestitant state and turned to face the group of girls too, listening in on their conversation.

"Winter told me that she caught Matthew kissing the French exchange student earlier, i forgot her name, but isn't that shocking?" One of them said, looking between her friends earning nods from the others. "Yeah, i thought he was with Chaehyun? Or are they just friends?" Another of the girls said, adding to the conversation. With each word that left their mouths was just another sharp stab to your heart.

Yeseo rolled her eyes at the gossip, her attention falling back onto you. "So, are you gonna tell me?" She pushed you jokingly, awaiting this big news. You cleared your throat, shaking your head. "Um, i'll tell you another time, i-i forgot i need to handle something" You made up some bullshit excuse on the spot, turning and speed walking away. Yeseo simply watched you leave with a confused look on her face.

"𝙊𝙝 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙘𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙪𝙥. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥."

That night, you sat on your bed after having arrived home from school. Today was the worst day of your life, you had even ignored your parents greeting you once you walked through the door. You bit your lip harshly, trying to resist the urge to scream. Unfortunately, you couldn't hold it back forever and once you had accidentslly let yourself sniffle that was when it all came crashing down.

You began to sob uncontrollably, you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to silence your crying in some way so that you wouldn't wake up your parents. Dropping to the floor, you couldn't help but shake with each sob you let out.

Memories of that night floated back into your mind, the picture of him fresh in your brain, the memory of him 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 still at the forefront of all those memories. You thought back to that night, trying to find any reason why it would turn out like this. You didn't do anything wrong, so why? Why did he do this to you? Why did he play with your heart and then split it right apart in front of you?

He lead you on, giving you that false glimmer of hope before he ripped your hearts to shred. You felt stupid honestly, how could you let yourself fall right into his hands. He was the popular guy at school, he had everyone in the palm of his hands just by existing alone and you were dumb enough to fall for his charms, let him take your heart, break it and then add you to his long list of hearts he had broken.

You were just unlucky to be added to that list of broken hearts, no happy ending for you like you had wished for.

"𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙪𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚'𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙪𝙥, 𝙤𝙣 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙚."

For the next few days you refused to even leave the house, you couldn't bare the thought of seeing him. Cause you knew that the minute your eyes landed on his figure, you would break down again. So you avoided going to school and you refused to tell your parents what happened, so they let you be, supporting you from afar.

You felt like an idiot, that night you spent with him felt magical. Once you had gotten home you began to picture yourself with him, during summer break you and Matthew would spend all of summer together, cute dates, matching bracelets that you'd buy for the two of you and just enjoying the other's company.

Then during Halloween, you'd have matching outfits. You didn't care what you'd wear, just as so long as you got to spend it with him. Then after that, you'd spend Christmas and New Year's together and you'd get your happily ever after with him.

But, love doesn't work like that. Cause Matthew was never in love with you, he just saw you as another heart he could play with, lead you on, make you feel special. Kiss you when the opportunity presented itself and then leave you a sloppy, depressed and broken mess for someone else to come after him and attempt to pick up the pieces.

Unfortunately, you couldn't hide away forever. You still had an education to pursue and your grades were suffering due to your broken heart. Your parents would force you to get dressed, eat breakfast and send you off to school. You were dreading this day, but you knew it would come eventually.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡, 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄'𝙢 𝙛𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙡."

You stood at the entrance of your school, wanting to turn and run. Other students from your class were giving you looks, surprised to see you reappear after your sudden disappearance. Finally breathing in, you stepped inside the building and headed to your class.

Entering through the door, all eyes landed on you. You looked around the classroom and your eyes locked into his orbs that stared back at you. You could see the look of surprise on his face at your reappearance to society. Breathing in once more, you closed the door behind you and took your seat beside Yeseo. The girl looking you up and down.

"Y/N, where were you these last few days? You never answered my texts" She genuinely was concerned for you and you were thankful that at least she was by your side, cause without her there you knew you'd crack. You looked at her and smiled, but only a small smile. "I'll tell you after class, promise.....for real this time" Yeseo was hesitant, but nodded her head, choosing to believe that you'd tell her.

Focusing your eyes onto your notebook that sat on your desk, you could hear the other students whispering your name. "Y/N's back?" "I can't believe Y/N showed up again" "Is she okay? Did something happen?" and much more.

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡."

After class had ended, you let Yeseo drag you out by the arm. Your head turning to face Matthew, your eyes catching his once more. And you felt your heart shatter once again when you saw the hint of a tiny smirk on his face.

Yeseo had dragged you all the way behind the school, a spot you and her frequented quite a lot during lunch to avoid large crowds. She stood in front of you, arms crossed in front of her and a determined look painting her features. "Go on, you have a lot of explaining to do"

The pain in your heart was still very much there as you tried to find the right words. As you looked into Yeseo's eyes, you couldn't hold back anymore and you broke down once again, your friend's facial expression quickly changed to one of concern as she took you into her arms. Her hands rubbing up and down your back as you sobbed into her shoulder.

You let everything out to her. You told her shout the night Matthew came to your house and invited you out, how he took you to Taerae's house and you two spent hours at his friend's outdoor pool. You told her about how he held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, how he caught you when you snuck out of your bedroom window and how he had kissed you that night in the pool.

All Yeseo could do was listen, taking in your words and rub your back comfortingly. She realized the state Matthew had left you in, completely broken and the pieces of your heart scattered every where. He had played with your heart, broke it into pieces and left taking a piece with him. Yeseo knew that no matter what she or anyone else did, no one could fully help you heal and find closure. Cause that night at the 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐨𝐥, Matthew had permanently scarred your heart and left a piece of you missing forever.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡. 𝙄𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡"

Hope you enjoyed, i loved writing this one. This song is one of my favs, so that's probably why. Make sure to put in a request if you'd like <33

#Spotify #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 matthew #zb1 matthew x reader #songfic #unrequited love #zb1 angst

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