#to throw away 40 hours a week of it being miserable just so i have enough money to eat and survive

[katya-goncharov]

i think the problem with being a student is that it sort of spoiled me, because now i'm used to spending my time in ways i enjoy and not doing stuff that makes me completely miserable and depressed for 40 hours a week, and after that i don't think i'll be able to handle doing a full-time job for the rest of my life

[heli0s-writes]

Clumsy

Summary: Serendipity, it’s the only way Steve can describe it. His ma was right: he’d always been slow.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

A/N: Fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Steve angst because I love one sad boi. Written for @wkemeup​​‘s 4K Challenge like an entire year ago!! I’m so sorry, Kas!! The prompt was Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life”. 2.8k words.

It was supposed to rain.

Thunderclaps rolled in the distance all morning. Moisture hung heavy in the air and the earth smelled like wet already--- salty, thick, sweet. The app on his phone blinked gray clouds straight across the screen. Seventy-three degrees and a nine-five percent chance of precipitation. Winds NE 20 miles per hour.

But at 2:30 in the afternoon when Steve slides into the car, it’s clear and blue.

So he figures it’s coincidence and poor meteorology when the engine quietly rumbles to life. He fixes the collar of his shirt, checks for hotels around the midway point, and sends an uneasy look to the empty passenger seat.

Then, he makes his way to where you are.

-

The two-lane country road stretches on. Winding and curving, pitch-black and howling with wind and wildlife. Bugs splatter on the windshield and he mechanically sprays a bit of fluid, wiping them off, the squeaks giving his radio a bit of rhythm in all this late-night talk. It’ll be another half hour before he gets to the hotel and he’s still wrestling with himself if he should even break.

No reason to now. He can drive all night. No reason to other than his pride.

“So what is it?”

There’s an imprint in the seat. An outline of a warm body folding soft creases in the leather. Late night talk radio fizzles out, and he’s tired, so he can’t get too upset at his brain for seeing the shape even though it’s been months since anyone’s sat there.

He chances a look over, then quickly back ahead because sure—the sedan is small, but this tiny strip of pavement feels even smaller. Too right and he’ll careen into the woods, too left and if another car’s coming around the bend Steve would roll out alive, but he’d be the only one.

He looks again.

Legs folded. Bare feet. Ankles crossed on the dash. Casually sitting with one hand on your phone and the other one behind your head, face lit incandescent by the screen. It was the first time he’d been alone with you after New York; he remembers this.

You hadn’t even given a glance sideways at him, still fixed on the screen, thumb sliding up and focused on mission details in a perfect picture of indifference.

“Your whole thing. Mister Red-White-and-Broody, most eligible bachelor in all of America—which, by the way, is so far up your ass all fifty states might as well be coming out of your mouth—”

“Stop it.”

“Okay, Rogers.” A smirk. His last name slipping between your lips like military title. “Fine, you’re all gilded in the front, suffering in the back. So—” You turned finally, pulled your feet back and tucked them under your body, “What is it?”

Steve pretended to think, left hand clenching a fraction tighter on the wheel, feeling its strength beneath his grip. His face remained impassive and dedicated forward, turning the seconds in his head, counting down the appropriate time for his reply.

It was a game, certainly. Your assertion, your poise, hand propping up your head—all of it. Your entire being was a foil to one Steven Grant Rogers and he was strapped with you for half a week. Already the car ride was beginning to foreshadow what was quickly seeming to be a long assignment.

“It’s my job—”

“So weak.”

“I’m busy—”

“Are you even trying to lie?”

You were known to do this: lay out a path of questions that only gave your company the pretense of a genuine conversation. You’d lead them like a wrangler leading horses to water, knowing they wouldn’t drink, but giving them just enough time to stare at their own reflection in the pool before you’d yank the harness elsewhere.

It was always a short path, but what you lacked in subtlety you made up for with honesty.

Agitated, Steve snapped before he could rein himself back in.

“What are you, my psychologist?” Horse.

“You don’t have one. You are the only Avengers Tower resident who has run off every psychologist on Stark’s payroll. So--” a twist of your torso, your back pressed up against the door handle as you stared at the outline of his side profile. Wrangler.

The question dangled in front of his gritted teeth. The answer he’d known long ago was behind two perfect calcium rows, pressed up, trying to find its way through the cracks.

What’s your thing? We fought together. We live together. We suffered a cataclysmic event in the form of aliens together---so why doesn’t anybody know you?

You leaned forward, body tilting until it almost touched your former footrest. Your head sloped to find his face and when he flicked his eyes sharply to yours, Steve knew it wasn’t sharp enough.

“You don’t want to be vulnerable.”

You’d led him through the brief route of your inquisition and had seen all you cared to see. Your voice bounced off the window when you closed your eyes and turned away.

“Steve,” you sighed, mouth going to the side in a smile. “Vulnerability is clumsy, but it’s the only thing worth anything.”

He had thought: No, it isn’t. He’d spent too long being vulnerable already, and he couldn’t afford it again. Twenty years of a miserable half-life and seventy years of sleep and suddenly the world was new and different and strange. Coming back into his body was new and different and strange but it was the body that afforded him invulnerability.

Mostly, anyway.

Steve decided, then, at least he could make up for that lump of mortality—that lump of weakness—with performance.

So, he became the blacksmith to his feeble Brooklyn boy heart. Forged carbon steel, gold-plated, immaculately polished like his own shield at press conferences. Smoothed himself into a monumental display of impeccable posturing and hid the boy away where no one could reach him. Let him go back to sleep, too. Frozen in a time long passed, long forgotten.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore because no one knew Steve Rogers anymore; it was the only way he could carry on. Didn’t you know?

No, he supposed, you didn’t.

On the ride back you surrendered yourself to the backseat, laying down in the most comfortable position the sedan would allow, and chatted his ear off the entire ride home. Called him Steve and looked at him through the rearview mirror. Eyes met eyes, and yours crinkled at the edges with some secret knowledge.

By the end of it, all he could think about was how he didn’t mind the conversation and that his first name even sounded a little nice coming out of your mouth.

You shimmer in the passenger side until your hair hangs a little longer. His brown leather jacket is around your shoulders. A stretch of your arms. A stretch of your lips. Months passed and Rogers befell the man you knew during the Manhattan Crisis while he became Steve.

Steve on missions and in the field—On your six, Steve! Keep up, old boy. Steve at the tower and Steve in the gym— don’t touch my weights, Steve, you’ll throw your back out.

Steve getting the door and pouring the whiskey and letting you wear his jacket when you were cold. Finding you across rooms at parties because there was an easiness to your presence that calmed the crowd. Shooting pool and watching movies. Up late and out late and laughing until the early hours.

He was Steve, your friend, because he finally allowed himself to have a friend.

You change. Shimmer again until your hair is pulled back from your swollen face. A hospital gown crinkled around your shoulders. Asleep, cold. Too close to death, too close to him. He couldn’t even sit by your bedside, only standing by the door, shuffling from one wall to the other and watched the monitors with a too-loud and static-filled brain.

He was hesitantly Steve when you stepped too close to him on the balcony nights later, hand precariously hovering over that fragile boy heart, finally pressing down on it, feeling his delicate pulse thawing and crawling towards you. Tipsy smile and you tasted like whiskey and easy joy.

The kiss was clumsy, like you’d said. Vulnerability threw him back to the 40’s, all gangly limbed and ill, his lungs malfunctioning, his breath smothered in his mouth. He stumbled, but the banister held him up.

You didn’t mind that his knees felt boneless. You chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your still-bruised cheek abruptly burned down his throat—warm and smooth and cataclysmic until he caught sight of the way you winced as his hand cupped your tender face. Steve stepped back, then, and apologized for what he said should have never happened.

There was a small quiver from your shoulder before you quietly went back inside.

He cursed himself on the balcony. Cursed letting it all happen in the first place. Captain Rogers watched your retreating steps, burying the spark and the fire. And the boy must have cried in his ice-block coffin when he buried him again, too.

“Don’t look at me like that.” God, he’s going crazy. Poor night-vision and an addled brain causing him to scold an empty seat. “You stopped talking to me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the way it does when you’re too deep in his head and he can’t get you out. Days without hearing from you smeared together in careful steps of a cagey dance. Comments always presented as half-truths—riddles he struggled to deconstruct. Breadcrumbs never leaving enough of a trail to lead him anywhere. He wants the harness back. Wants back your confident hand.

“You could have said something.” Steve scoffs, because you always had something to say. “Anything. You could have said anything. We were—friends.”

And hell, doesn’t that sound stupid out loud? Maybe it’s best that he’s got nothing but infinity beyond the sedan’s glaring brights and a million thoughts of unsaid words. It’s all useless, anyway. Best that he can get it all out now, talking to your ghost. It keeps all his thoughts in his head and keeps him from yelling every time he sees you not-looking, not-smiling, not-talking to him.

Steve flicks the wipers on again. Shuts off the radio. Shuts off the navigation. Takes the car off cruise-control to give himself something to do. He’ll stop overnight, after all.

Suddenly then, in the distance, two glowing eyes greet him steadily. Measured paces, in a firm and crisp trajectory, growing closer and closer. Glaring and vivid, beating the monotonous grind of nighttime out of him. His pinky moves, and his high beams flip to low beams, white giving way to yellow and the glistening road signs and tree-shadows in the distance slowly diminish.

Bleached spectral glaring of leaves and road signs soften ochre and brown, indigo dark. For a fleeting moment, even Steve’s enhanced eyes feel half-blind again as he readjusts to the pitch-black night barely lit. The car coming toward him does the same, highs blinking low and they pass each other in quiet understanding. In blind trust on the dark road, dependent on each other’s good faith to see it through.

He thinks of Sarah Rogers in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen, floral wallpaper yellowed and peeling behind her. One hand on an apron-clad hip, cooking interrupted by her son stumbling in dripping blood down his shirt, her other hand clenched around a wet kitchen rag.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Oh—wretched! What else can I say,” she’d sigh as she pressed it to his nose, “You do whatever you please, anyhow. You just put this on your face—and don’t think it’ll get you out of doing the dishes, either.”

“But—” he’d attempt.

She’d put up her hand, “Lord have mercy on any young woman that’ll have you. May she have your poor mother’s patient heart.”

His ma always called him slow. A dolt through and through. Quick to temper, but laborious to do much else. Common sense always took its sweet time-- took the long path home to get to Steve Rogers. In seventy-odd years, he hasn’t changed.

Better than coincidence and better than poor meteorology. Serendipity. It’s the only way he can describe it.

Like finding a crumpled up twenty in his pocket—or in his case, a five—enough then for a week’s worth of meals. Like having that nightmare— the one right before the plane crashes and instead of going down with it, he wakes up. Like expecting to drive five hours through a storm and stopping overnight, but instead it’s clear and blue as far as he can see.

The rush, the relief, the deafening joy that shuts everything else up and out.

Sarah Rogers was right: he’d always been slow.

So he careens back onto the highway from the service road, steadying his foot on the pedal and flies about fifteen miles faster than the speed limit says he should. The car is vibrating to a thrilled beat inside his chest. Steve can’t help smiling.

-

It was supposed to rain. All the way to the next mid-morning but the sky parts a brilliant orange sunrise and he nearly sprints to the door. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before he barrels in. A sliver of parting wood is enough, and Steve throws it wide with his enormous shoulders, kicking it shut firmly with his boot.

The imprint of your body on the couch is still warm—you, halfway across the room in alarm—real and even warmer when Steve gathers you into his arms. He’s been awake for over 24 hours, talking to himself, talking to your hallucination, so he apologizes when his teeth click against yours in a frantic kiss.

“Rogers--!”

You pull away, dazed, a little bit pissed off, but you cow the swirl of emotions into professionalism. “What are you—you’re not supposed to be here until late—did you drive through--”

“Steve,” he interrupts, “Steve.”

He’s so tired of the long road. Can’t stand another second of maneuvering in the dark down winding paths or broken streetlight avenues you’re not at the end of so he keeps his next phrase short: “I really like you.”

You raise your brow and brush the back of your knuckles over your lips, the light from the balcony streaming over your face. His hand tenderly brushes your cheek, the same one he touched all those months ago and you blink in surprise. Quick, calculating movements even as you lean gently into his touch.

“Steve…” you say slowly before your mouth pinches together in a poor attempt to hide the smirk threatening to surface. “You drove all night to… ask me to call you Steve.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “And the mission.”

“Right, the mission. The debrief didn’t mention that it required a lot of… kissing.”

“It came up recently; I haven’t adjusted the file yet.” He grins at your rolling eyes, your swollen lips peeling back to reveal a joyful display of teeth at his stubborn defiance.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble.

You place your hand over his chest, over his heart.

You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you’re not letting go, and he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it paints him in the most galvanized care. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut, like he’s being laid to rest. And maybe he is. Finally weary of lugging around all his armor, all his pretense.  

The boy emerges, thawing toward his name held sweetly in your mouth.

He fumbles with his awkward limbs—a newly birthed foal trying to find its footing—but you’re patient and enduring. He takes in his trembling body—knobby knees and gangly elbows. Inept gait still learning how to be. He takes the sights—white casting over the balcony. You, even brighter.

It was supposed to rain, but you link your fingers through his, leading him toward the open doors, smiling against a backdrop of sherbet swirls. He stumbles, but you’ve got him. A few short steps, just a few more, and Steve kisses you again in the sunbathed daybreak, resurrected and anew.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Sunday, 12:40

Song: Peter Manos - In My Head

Lucas is surprised his dad hasn’t come to tell him how pathetic he is yet. He supposes it isn’t necessary. Lucas is more than aware of it himself.

He’d dragged himself out to go to the bathroom and get breakfast and managed to avoid a run-in. Now he’s curled up in his bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, trying not to feel too sorry for himself.

It isn’t easy.

He’s tempted to call Kes, but he’d called him yesterday, and he doesn’t want to be so needy. He’s thought about messaging Isa, but he isn’t really sure what he would say. He’s sure they’re all busy anyway. Possibly even hanging out together. Without him. As is likely the new normal already.

Lucas had been so sure he’d found his new normal already, too, but nothing feels normal about his situation anymore. He feels more stupid than anything. He doesn’t know what he’s been thinking. He doesn’t know how he has managed to mess everything up so massively already.

Jens was offering him friendship, and of course Lucas went overboard with it. Of course he’s a fool.

He’s spent the weekend rewatching the vlogs. He’s already in that deep.

It goes against all his rules, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t get any of it out of his head. He can’t stop feeling Jens’s hands on his hips, or his breath on his ear. He can’t stop remembering the pump of his heart when Jens has done nothing more than smile. He can’t stop imagining what Jens might have done, if Lucas hadn’t pulled away from their dance, if Lucas had made up for it when Jens pulled him down to sit in front of him by leaning right back against his chest. He can’t stop considering all the possibilities that have never been possible in the first place.

He can’t stop seeing Jens with her, looking entirely at home.

He’d avoided Instagram entirely yesterday, resisting the temptation to open Jens’s message or stalk his page or Jana’s for any possible torture. He hates how dramatic his heart is being. He knew not to expect anything, and he’d let himself get much too carried away anyway. Jens had just seemed so close and so possible. Now Lucas is realising the boy is probably even more like Kes than he thought.

Lucas is long over that, but there’s still a leftover sting regardless, even as he cringes at his own thoughts and thoughtless actions. It makes him feel worse, sometimes, now that the feelings have slipped away, to look back at it, but he can’t quite bring himself to regret it.

It’s given him plenty of time to come to terms with everything. With himself. He can’t exactly bring himself to regret something that taught him so much.

It just obviously hasn’t taught him enough.

It’s in moments like this where a little of that self-hate returns with full force, and he can’t help wishing that he was just normal. It wouldn’t feel like this, if he was just crushing on a girl who didn’t return his feelings.

He might have no proof to back this up, but he feels pretty sure of it all the same.

It would be fine, if he thought it wouldn’t mess anything up with Jens. He’s mostly angry with himself because of how much he’s already letting it affect him. He had run from the party without even saying goodbye, and he hasn’t responded to the message that Jens had so sweetly sent him afterwards. Or to the second message Jens had sent him yesterday, saying that he hoped Lucas got there safe and was having fun. He’d laughed at the irony of it. He doesn’t know how to explain to Jens that he’s completely miserable, and that he hadn’t gone anywhere in the first place.

He’s lying in his bed in Antwerp, and he’s giving in and clicking on Jens’s Instagram story.

It’s a video of him at the skatepark, flying up the ramp towards the camera, grinning as he jumps off his board and pushes the person away. The responding giggles sound like they come from Robbe. He looks as beautiful as ever, and Lucas wishes more than anything that he could join them. The pained twist of his heart isn’t entirely strong enough to make him want to stay away. It’s just an additional ache.

He escapes the app in a rush and opens Spotify, hoping to distract himself. His fingers twitch, tempted to draw, but there’s already a cramp in them. It was all he’d done yesterday. He’d needed to get his thoughts out, needed to put his emotions on paper, in something real, and endless sketches had poured out, inspired by the past few weeks. He’d sketched Sander first, stood in the art shop with his camera and his smirk. He’d sketched Luca, taking care with her curls and her glasses, one eye closed in a wink, adding extra details as he refused to pour out his mind’s main focus.

It still hadn’t stopped him from creating a dozen sketches of Jens, most only half-completed, the image lost midway as another one came to the forefront.

He needs a break from feeling like this, for a while. Before he remembers that he has to return to school tomorrow, where it will be unavoidable.

He doesn’t get very far, unable to make up his mind, before a notification pops up at the top of his screen and destroys any notion of forgetting his feelings.

Jens has messaged him again. Undeterred, it seems, by Lucas’s previous lack of response.

hey, you’re probably still busy but I was wondering what time you would be back? I’m at the skatepark with the boys, and we’ll probably be here until late, if you wanted to join for a while

Before Lucas can even take this in, another message appears.

you’re probably staying with your friends until the evening though, so don’t worry about it

Lucas blinks at the message with furrowed brows. At first his heart twists, thinking Jens has changed his mind and is politely telling him not to come after all. But the rushed manner in which it had been sent makes him doubt himself, and he rereads it again, searching for the purpose of it. The meaning behind it. Another thought comes to mind, but he can’t quite let himself entertain it. That can’t be right.

There’s no way that Jens is nervous.

It sounds an awful lot like he might be, though, the more Lucas reads it over. He begins to feel a little bad. He hadn’t thought too much on what his distance might feel like to Jens. He hadn’t considered the idea that he’s being unfair. It isn’t Jens’s fault, that Lucas feels hurt. He couldn’t possibly know. Lucas hopes that he doesn’t know. To Jens, it probably feels like Lucas is ignoring him now that he’s with his friends in Utrecht. That he simply takes a back seat. Lucas is the terrible person for knowingly hurting him this way.

He can’t help but smile slightly, and then his hands are moving on their own, opening the message and typing a reply.

I’m already home

It appears as ‘seen’ almost instantly, and it takes just as little time for the typing bubble to appear.

you left early? is everything okay?

I never went

He watches the texting bubble appear and disappear a few times before quickly typing out another message.

came home to my dad waiting for me. he found my (very small) stash. wasn’t pleased.

The typing bubble doesn’t appear for long now.

shit

grounded? I was wondering why you hadn’t replied

Lucas hadn’t even realised that he was creating the perfect out for himself. It’s that simple. It probably makes sense, that his grounding would include a lack of phone privileges. It isn’t too extreme, especially if it includes the idea that he’d already gotten it back. He could let Jens believe that his father had dished out that mini, extra punishment. He won’t even be lying. Not really. He just won’t be mending Jens’s incorrect assumption. Skipping over a tiny detail.

yep. I am to remain in this house indefinitely

fuck

he couldn’t be convinced to let you out for even an hour?

Lucas blinks.

Could his father be convinced?

Can Lucas?

He doesn’t have to think about it too long.

let’s check

He locks his phone and slips out of bed, suddenly eager. Determined. Still, he’s slow and quiet as he opens his door, and he winces at the faint creak of the hinges. He tiptoes up the hallway towards the kitchen, running through what he should say, giving himself a bit of extra time. He needs to go into this with patience. He needs to stay resolute. His father will shut him down the instant he blows up, so he simply needs to keep his cool. Throw in some persuasion. It’ll be difficult, probably, but not impossible. Hopefully.

Only his father isn’t in the kitchen, or the adjoining sitting room. Lucas furrows his brows in confusion and moves back down the hallway. The bathroom is unlocked and empty, and his father’s door lies open, proving without any doubt that the room is unoccupied. He’s completely alone in the flat.

His heart thrums and his mind races in time with the quickening beat. He’s not the most passive person in the world, and he wouldn’t let himself be walked over, and he’s not a model citizen. This isn’t too far past his realm of disobedience.

His father is already beyond pissed, and while Lucas initially cringes at the thought, he shrugs it off.

Might as well go the extra mile.

He heads back to his room and pulls a sweater on over his t-shirt, a light pastel green Isa had once bought him. He snatches his denim jacket from the hook by the front door and swipes up his keys as he shrugs it on. He hesitates for half a second before returning to collect his skateboard from his room, and then he’s off.

I’m on my way

Jens’s response is instant.

fucking nice :D

Lucas’s lips quirk, and he shakes his head slightly, and feels unbearably fond. Jens is so easy. Everything he does is so easy. He’s a steadily burning flame, bright and warm and sure, and Lucas is another brainless moth. Drawn in and set alight.

He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to develop such a ridiculous crush so quickly. He just hopes he can get rid of it in the same manner. Maybe he should be giving himself more time, especially now that he has a genuine excuse. He could have stepped neatly away from Jens for a while with the excuse of his imprisonment and Jens would understand. Lucas knows he would. He knows that would be the best thing to do. It’s unfair to Jens and himself to indulge these feelings, the excitement and the urgency and the pleasure at the mere idea of seeing him.

But Lucas has been miserable the past few days, and it’s starting to make his head whir in much more dangerous directions. He just needs to appease it for a moment. He just needs to see Jens once and let his heart quiet.

He’ll be pleased, at this stage, to see any of them. It makes sense for him to want to join as many of these outings as he can. He’s just beginning to fit into this friend-group.

The skatepark is relatively full, as to be expected for a Sunday afternoon, but it takes Lucas no time to find them. His eyes seek out Jens automatically and he finds him easily where he’s now sat at the top of the half pipe, laughing at someone Lucas doesn’t bother looking at and occasionally glancing at his phone. Lucas has to pause for a second and gather himself, squashing down the mixed emotions that bubble up and plastering on a smile.

It’s only when he’s halfway towards him that he does a double take, catching sight of white-blonde hair. His smile slips into something more real, and some of his familiar bounce returns to his step as he heads towards them.

“Yo, Lucas!” The cheer comes unexpectedly from Moyo, and Lucas twists around until he can see him, jogging in the same direction to meet him as he finally stops next to Jens, kicking up his skateboard and catching the tip in his hand.

Jens smiles up at him, left eye squinting more than the right against the sun. He’s still wearing just a shirt and a deep red hoodie, but he looks soft and warm and pleased as Lucas sits down next to him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Lucas returns, feeling uncharacteristically shy, nerves twisting in his chest. The party and the hours before it skim through his mind, and then the hours after and all of yesterday when he’d attempted to purge himself of all unwanted feelings, pushing this boy away in the process. He doesn’t deserve the easy friendship Jens has handed him. He’s taken advantage of such an innocent thing, and Jens has absolutely no idea. He wouldn’t look so fond if he did.

“You got grounded?” Moyo questions him as he swings up next to them, dropping down on Jens’s other side with furrowed brows.

Lucas shrugs, twisting his hands together in his lap. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“What? Why?”

Lucas twists around to look at Robbe, who has finally detached himself from his boyfriend long enough to notice Lucas’s presence and migrate over. Lucas catches Sander’s gaze over his shoulder and Sander brightens, slipping around Robbe to greet him. Lucas allows him to clasp their hands together with a grin, but ducks away when he moves to ruffle his hair.

“My little protégé. I was starting to think these idiots were never going to let me see you again.”

Lucas huffs, shaking his head as Sander simply drops down to sit cross-legged behind him. Robbe looks at Lucas and rolls his eyes fondly, and Lucas watches with a twist in his stomach as he sits down behind Sander, wrapping his limbs around him and letting him settle back against his chest. “You say that like I listen to them.”

Sander raises his brows at this, nodding approvingly, and this is when Jens makes a small noise in the back of his throat, strangled with confusion.

Lucas looks at him to see him glancing between him and Sander in deep concentration. “Have you already met?”

“Yeah, on Thursday at the art shop,” Sander says easily. “We had a very educational chat.”

Lucas snorts, thinking of the mini lesson Sander had given him on all his favourite dead, supposedly-gay artists as he led him around the store and then to an ice cream stand down the street, instantly winning Lucas’s heart. It may not have been the most educational experience, but it had been enough for Lucas to learn that Sander is someone he could get along with.

Jens swivels to look at Robbe. “You knew about this?”

Robbe hums. “Yeah?”

“Since when?”

“That night?”

Sander takes in Jens’s expression of utter betrayal and snorts, and Lucas can’t help but raise his own brow in amusement as Jens turns his pout towards him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucas tilts his head. “Why was I supposed to?”

Jens struggles to form a response to that, pout deepening, and Lucas really wishes he’d stop doing things like that. He wishes he would stop treating them as if they are so close, the way Robbe and Sander are close, sharing everything automatically and having a sunk-in understanding. He wishes Jens would make it easier for Lucas to let go of this idea of something more between them.

Sander knocks his leg against Lucas’s arm to get his attention, and his expression is dramatically serious. “Jens just gets a little jealous,” he mock-whispers, loud enough even for Moyo to hear him and let out a snort.

Jens’s pout shifts into a scowl and he rolls his eyes, and Sander knocks a leg against him instead in some semblance of apology. He raises his brows at Lucas, however, in a silent ‘told you’.

“What, you don’t seriously think Sander is going to steal me away or something, do you?” Lucas can’t help but tease, raising his brows in interest.

Moyo butts in with a laugh of his own, gesturing at Sander and hitting Jens’s arm. “Sander is basically a part of the group anyway, man. Where would he go?”

“That’s not the point,” Jens mumbles, mostly under his breath. Before anyone can question him on it, he’s turning back to Lucas and asking, “How’d you get your dad to let you out, anyway?”

Lucas shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t. He wasn’t there, so I just left.”

“Ahh, a little rebel,” Sander teases.

Robbe huffs a laugh. “A match made in heaven.”

“Don’t encourage them,” Jens protests, leaving Sander sticking his tongue out at him. His gaze turns concerned as he looks at Lucas. “Won’t that make it worse for you when you get back?”

Lucas isn’t sure it can get much worse, but he can say with certainty that this is the happiest he’s been this weekend. It’s bad. This familiar warmth flooding through his chest under Jens’s gaze. It would probably be best for him, to be locked up at home.

But he can’t bring himself to regret this, either.

He gives another shrug, allows himself to smile, allows himself to enjoy how easily Jens returns it when he says, “It’ll be worth it.”

[ducktracy]

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally. 

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous. 

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick. 

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on. 

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM. 

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore. 

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice,  demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song. 

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Bakusquad, An Extended Scene About The Joys And Pains of Dyeing Hair

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

⚡💖⛰️🎸📼

You have added Best Bakubro 💣💥!

You have changed the name from “⚡💖⛰️🎸📼” to “⚡💖💣⛰️🎸📼”!

hehehe we’re all set (sent 12:10)

welcome baku!! 💪🏻 (sent 12:10)

- 

God 💡: 👀 (received 12:11)

Simply Mina: 👀👀 (received 12:11)

MT Tape: 👀 (received 12:11)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: shitty hair (received 12:13)

- 

you promised!!! (sent 12:13)

no take backs 👀 (sent 12:13)

- 

Best Bakubro 💣💥: fuck (received 12:13)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: okay two things (received 12:13)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: one i’m muting this so @ me or fuck off (received 12:14)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: two give me your names (received 12:14)

God 💡: wait srsly?? (received 12:15)

God 💡: c’mon bro it’s been months :( (received 12:15)

Simply Mina: yea wth blasty that’s so cold :(( (received 12:15)

MT Tape: answer the people explosion man @Best Bakubro 💣💥 (received 12:17)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: fine you’re staying random numbers then (received 12:18)

God 💡: OH (received 12:18)

God 💡: kaminari denki here!! (received 12:18)

MT Tape: this is sero 🙏🏻 (received 12:18)

Simply Mina: mina!!! (received 12:19)

Simply Mina: @Guitar Hero is kyoka 💖 (received 12:19)

* 

Best Bakubro 💣💥

who? (received 12:19)

-

jirou!! (sent 12:19)

-

? (received 12:19)

-

🔌 (sent 12:20)

-

ah (received 12:20)

* 

⚡💖💣⛰️🎸📼

Best Bakubro 💣💥: k (received 12:20)

God 💡: anyways (received 12:22)

God 💡: this is the best day of my life (received 12:22)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: shut it jolteon (received 12:22)

God 💡: dude i didn’t even @ u asdfkjsfk (received 12:22)

God 💡: wait omg is that an upgrade?? (received 12:23)

God 💡: did i get upgraded from pikachu to jolteon omg omg (received 12:23)

MT Tape: DIBS ON UMBREON (received 12:23)

MT Tape: we’re picking eeveelutions right? (received 12:23)

-

!!!! pls pls flareon pls!!! (sent 12:24)

-

Simply Mina: espeon or sylveon (received 12:24)

Simply Mina: espeon or sylveon??? (received 12:25)

Simply Mina: GUYS (received 12:25)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: this is a nightmare (received 12:25)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: and wtf espeon of course (received 12:26)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: better stats and none of that affection shit (received 12:26)

Simply Mina: the council has spoken (received 12:26)

-

what about flareon??? (sent 12:27)

plsplspls (sent 12:27)

-

Best Bakubro 💣💥: kirishima (received 12:27)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: it’s red. (received 12:28)

-

HELL YEAH ❤️ (sent 12:28)

-

Guitar Hero: hi what the HELL are you guys spamming about (received 12:30)

Guitar Hero: oh hey bakugou (received 12:30)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: plugs you’re glaceon (received 12:31)

Guitar Hero: i’m cool with that (received 12:31)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: good (received 12:31)

MT Tape: ok kiri i think i get it now (received 12:34)

MT Tape: putting every decision thru the baku filter is so much more fun (received 12:34)

- 

right??? (sent 12:34)

-

Best Bakubro 💣💥: don’t fucking start (received 12:35)

Simply Mina: too late <3 (received 12:35)

God 💡: our trap card activated the moment you stepped into this chat man (received 12:36)

MT Tape: Bakugou Katsuki has been designated Chief Executive Brain (CEB) of the squad, effective immediately. (received 12:36)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: i’m leaving (received 12:37)

-

:( (sent 12:37)

-

MT Tape: … 👀 (received 12:40)

MT Tape: he ain’t leaving huh? (received 12:44)

God 💡: kiri’s puppy eyes once again confirmed as world’s strongest force (received 12:45)

Simply Mina: it’s kiri so we’re all safe tho <3 (received 12:45)

-

<3 (sent 12:45)

-

Best Bakubro 💣💥: for the record i hate all of you (received 12:46)

*

⚡💖💣⛰️🎸📼

Simply Mina: hey hey blasty (received 14:48)

Simply Mina: which eeveelution are you? (received 14:48)

Simply Mina: @Best Bakubro 💣💥 (received 14:50)

God 💡: 👀👀 (received 14:50)

- 

👀 (sent 14:50)

-

MT Tape: 👀 (received 14:51)

Guitar Hero: ^ what they said (received 14:53)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: eevee, duh (received 14:56)

Best Bakubro 💣💥: i don’t need a type advantage to win (received 14:56)

-

😭 bro so manly (sent 14:56)

also (sent 14:57)

You have changed the name from “⚡💖💣⛰️🎸📼” to “🦊 Eevee Squad 🦊”!

-

Best Bakubro 💣💥: fucking fantastic. can we shut up now? (received 15:00)

*

Best Bakubro 💣💥

see? told u it’s fun 💪🏻 (sent 15:01)

-

i guess (received 15:02)

-

like i said u can just ignore the chat if ur not feeling it (sent 15:10)

they’re cool, they won’t mind (sent 15:10)

+ i’ll text u stuff directly if it’s important (sent 15:12)

-

kiri (received 15:12)

-

ok ok hhh just saying (sent 15:12)

- 

i know (received 15:13)

you got that shit for ectoplasm yet? (received 15:17)

-

ummm (sent 15:17)

-

fucking knew it (received 15:17)

you coming or what? (received 15:22)

-

!!! o7 (sent 15:22)

*

Bakugou is staring.

Eyes on the page, Kirishima tries to focus on the function he’s been struggling to get for fifteen minutes now. Something about tangents and right angles? No, cotangents, which is different from a non-cotangent tangent because–

Bakugou has stopped writing a while ago, the fabric-covered pen resting loosely in his hand, his head propped up on a fist.

–the cosine does… something with the sine of X. Division? Maybe? X pops up in a bunch of places, actually, and Kirishima longs for the days math still featured numbers and not whatever nonsense this cos-sin-tan stuff is–

Bakugou is staring right at him, has been for ages now and Kirishima can’t help it. He looks up, only to catch Bakugou looking away, and huffs a nervous chuckle.

“Bro, c’mon. What’s up? Is there something on my face ‘cause you’ve been–”

“It’s black.” There’s a pensive twist to Bakugou’s brow. He breezes through the part of the problem Kirishima’s stuck on like it’s nothing, scribbled down in permanent ink like the monster he is. “Your natural haircolor. It’s black, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Kirishima picks his head up from where he’s slumped across Bakugou’s desk, the bean bag he’s sitting on shifting under his butt. Since when does Bakugou care about his hair? It hasn’t been black for over a year, anyways, so what does that have to do with…

“Wait, why do you–”

Bakugou’s eyes wander back to him, landing on Kirishima’s hair for barely a second but it’s enough. With a mortified noise, Kirishima slaps both his hands over his forehead – or more specifically, his roots.

Because Kirishima completely forgot he’s overdue on a redye for a good week and styled his hair as he usually does: gel evenly spread into carefully towel-dried strands, quirk on until it dries, done. He hadn’t looked into a mirror before heading to class or he would’ve seen his tips straying from cherry red to berry pink.

And that jet-black line where it’s growing back out. The roots that are the bane of Kirishima’s existence and that Bakugou saw.

Kirishima groans, curling into himself until his head hits wood with a dull donk. “How bad is it? Don’t spare me, bro, I need to know.”

That rhymes, the part of his brain not burning in the hellfire of shame chimes in. Kirishima firmly tells it to shut up.

“Your hair?”, Bakugou asks from an unknown realm beyond the bit of desk Kirishima’s staring at, a beat late. Probably to treat him to a glare he can’t see.

Kirishima rubs his forehead across his math homework in a miserable nod.

“It’s not more or less shitty than usual, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou scoffs. “What’s the big deal?”

“Oh, nothing”, Kirishima shrugs, his voice a fake-cheerful mumble, “Just that I’ve been walking around like this all day. A whole ass day. Kill me, now.”

“Nah. Wasn’t the idea to ‘die like a man in chivalrous battle’?”

Kirishima shoots him a dirty look. Bakugou doesn’t even bat an eye; he flashes his teeth in a bright smile and knocks his fists against each other, whispering “manly” under his breath and okay, why does Bakugou have to be good at everything, including impersonating Kirishima?

“I hate you”, grumbles Kirishima. Bakugou breaks character to cackle, only stopping after Kirishima balls up his pitiful attempt at math to throw it at his head. Bull’s eye, right on the forehead.

“Oi! That’s your homework, moron.”

“You started it”, Kirishima points at him with his pencil. His notepad is pulled closer with a deep, long sigh. “Now I gotta do this stuff again and stress about my hair. Amazing.”

Ah, the God-help-me eyeroll. It’s been a while. “Just go fucking dye it and come back if it bothers you so much. Can’t be that hard.”

“Says the blond guy”, Kirishima huffs. “Dude, do you even know how long getting rid of this” – a gesture to his roots – “takes? Black hair is a pain to bleach. Literally.”

Bakugou considers his hair with a frown. “…How long are we talking here? Like, an hour?”

A laugh, louder than Kirishima intends. “Try three. Sometimes more, it depends.”

“Three hours?!”

“Or more.”

A little smug, Kirishima watches disbelief bloom on Bakugou’s face. When it comes to this, destroying the innocence of the uninitiated is the only joy he’s got. There’s really nothing fun about sitting through those hours every six weeks, give or take – just plain, boring routine. At least he isn’t anxious about making mistakes anymore, not like his first few times.

It’s definitely worth it, though. Kirishima loves his red hair.

“And it, what. It hurts?”

Bakugou is still processing it seems, a hand going to his own hair. (It looks so soft, that even light color Kirishima has envied since the beginning of time. Such a nice base for any type of dye, especially bright ones or pastels.)

Kirishima scrunches his nose. “The developer does, yeah. Anything over 9% makes your scalp burn like crazy so I stick to 9% and do multiple rounds. I can’t go light enough for the red I want, otherwise.”

“And then the dye?”

“Then you dye it, yeah. Roots first, then the lengths in small strands, let it sit for twenty more minutes or so, rinse it out and then you’re done.”

It’s weird to explain things that have become totally obvious to him step by step, but Bakugou looks strangely fascinated by what he’s hearing. He does likes things to be more complicated than simple in basically any regard, Kirishima muses with a private snicker. Perhaps it’s not that surprising, after all.

“I use pure red on everything but you can mix colors, too, there’s a whole science behind that. And if you decide ‘Hey, I haven’t suffered enough!’, you can do individual highlights as well. But that’s a production all in itself! Ask Kami, he does some wild things to get that lightning bolt just right.”

Bakugou slowly shakes his head. “You people are crazy. That can’t be worth it.” He squints at Kirishima, hums to himself and starts nodding, instead. Vaguely terrified of what’s brewing in that brain of his, Kirishima waits for him to finish thinking.

“Let’s do it.”

There it is, a suitably terrible idea. Also: What?

“Color or highlights?” Kirishima sputters. “Wait, you or me? Bro, I can live with my own mistakes but dyeing your hair is too much pressure. Like, I’ll do it if you really want me to but, um–”

“Color. And you, obviously. Who of us is freaking out about hair, huh? Sure as fuck ain’t me.”

I’m not freaking out about it, Kirishima wants to say. Okay, he had been freaking out a little. Maybe. Not anymore, not with the mental image of Bakugou with Riot-red hair sort of making his braincells implode.

It’s impossible to imagine. Kirishima tries to anyways, fails, shakes his head. Focus!

“But…”

He draws a blank. Actually, Bakugou helping him with his hair does sound kind of fun. Until his patience inevitably runs out and he explodes the pot of dye, or something. Which could be hilarious, too.

“…Homework?”

(Not that he particularly wants to go back to puzzling over non-tangent cotangents – Ectoplasm always seems to know when he didn’t do the thing, though, and Kirishima hates disappointing his teachers more than he does the variable X.)

Bakugou sparks off in his direction. “We got three hours. 'nuff said.” He snatches up the math book they were sharing, Kirishima’s notepad and even the pencil out of his hand, and is out the room before Kirishima has fully registered they’re doing this.

“Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima jumps to his feet.

“Coming!”

*

“This is so damn messy. How’s your bathroom not stained to hell already?”

Coming up on their third round over his bathroom sink, Kirishima feels little sleepy as he blinks up at Bakugou. That expression of intense concentration hasn’t budged all three rounds, Bakugou’s hands steady yet gentle where they’re starting to dab red dye over freshly bleached roots.

There’s a dot of crimson on his cheek already. After forcing gloves on Bakugou and explaining to him how red pigment is the hardest to wash out – on clothes, skin, hair, wherever it lands – Kirishima isn’t inclined to point it out to him just yet.

“I asked admin about it. They said everything in our rooms is practically indestructible, including the sinks.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, right? They thought of everything, it seems.”

Bakugou continues. Kirishima dozes.

“Your hair is dry as fuck, by the way.”

Kirishima shrugs with his eyes closed, following the nudge to turn his head so Bakugou can get to the back. This is so much more comfortable than doing it by himself.

“Can’t be helped, man. The dye by itself is fine, actually, it’s the bleach that’s causes most of the damage. Oh well, with the gel it’s hard as concrete, anyways.”

“Mhmm. You’ll go bald by the time we’re outta here.”

“Hey!”

“Bald Hero: Red Riot”, Bakugou muses out loud, easily evading the kick Kirishima blindly aims at his shin. “Stop it, you’re gonna fuck up my hard work here.”

He’s smiling though, Kirishima can tell. It’s all in his voice, roughness replaced by warmth when it’s the two of them in Kirishima’s tiny bathroom.

“Stop dissing my hair, then. Besides, I know your secret.”

This Kirishima wants to see. He opens one eye and yup, Bakugou’s brows are doing the thing where they twitch and pull together. Not exactly a frown, more caught off guard than anything. Bakugou’s lips press shut, stubbornly silent as he brushes dye on every inch of Kirishima's hair.

Then: “I’m done. What am I s’posed to do with this shit?”

Kirishima glances at the pot Bakugou holds out to him. There’s still some of the thick liquid left.

“Just pour it on top. Can’t hurt and it’s better than throwing it away.”

Bakugou does exactly that. He tosses the empty pot and the thoroughly stained brush into the sink. Kirishima helps him wrap his hair in cellophane and a towel to reduce the possible mess, relocating to the closed lid of his toilet so Bakugou can take off the gloves and wash his hands.

“Okay, I’ll fucking bite. What secret?”

Lingering on the tension between them, Kirishima grins with all the confidence in the world. “That you like my hair.”

Bakugou barks a laugh. “After I went all Van Gogh on it? You better believe it’s good.”

“Nope, I mean before that”, Kirishima challenges.

“Proof?”, Bakugou shoots back without hesitation.

“Oh, I can give you proof.” Kirishima’s arms cross over the ratty shirt he always wears for this, its fabric dotted and streaked in interlacing shades of red. “One, it’s the first thing you noticed about me, hence ‘Shitty Hair’. Two, you were distracted by my roots growing in so you pay attention to how it looks–”

“I don’t–”

“–and three, you just spent hours dyeing it for me.”

Bakugou’s mouth snaps shut. He growls in his throat, grabbing an additional towel and drying his hands. Kirishima wasn’t aware those are actions that can be done aggressively but hey, he’s learning something new every day.

“Maybe”, Bakugou finally concedes. The towel is thrown in Kirishima’s face when all he does is smile. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Bakugou’s cheeks are dusted pink. Still, Kirishima shows the guy some mercy: Bakugou spent all afternoon fixing both his hair and his math homework, after all.

“Hey, Baku?”

“… What?”

“Thanks, man. You’re a good friend, you know that?”

Somehow, that makes Bakugou look even more flustered. “Whatever, Shitty Hair.”

Because Bakugou is Bakugou, namely a man who doesn’t know when or how to quit, he sticks around until Kirishima can rinse out the dye. He emerges from the shower feeling fully restored, a towel wrapped around his waist and his shirt draped over his shoulder.

“And that’s how you do it.”

Bakugou throws him a look from his sprawl on Kirishima’s bed, manga in hand. His gaze flicks to his hair immediately; his lips twist upwards, obviously satisfied.

“Told ya, it ain’t hard.”

Kirishima chuckles, shakes his head. “You’re so full of shit, dude.”

Now that the hair situation is under control for a few weeks, he realizes how hungry he is. The evening has barely begun, too, which means there’s time for a movie before Bakugou’s ridiculous sleep schedule comes a-knocking, either taking him out or making him cranky. Each scenario has about a fifty-fifty chance of happening.

“Hey, you wanna–”

Out of nowhere, his door bursts open to reveal one Kaminari Denki, out of breath and clutching a very familiar book to his chest.

“Kiri! Please tell me you guys figured out the–”

His eyes fall first on the splattered shirt on Kirishima’s shoulder, the trails of watery red dripping from his hair to his naked chest – and then on Bakugou, hands stained a faint red despite the gloves, that smear of color on his cheek Kirishima forgot to tell him about still very much there.

“Is that blood? What happened? Oh my–” Kaminari gasps. “Did you kill somebody?! Oh fuck, we have to hide the bo–”

“Kami”, Kirishima tries between bouts of laughter, “No, what the hell!”

A familiar cackle behind him does absolutely nothing to help their case.

>>Chapter 8.

[purplesurveys]

1127

1. What is one thing you will never do again? Watch The Hours. Film itself is great, but is way too triggering.

2. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? I’d take happiness easily. It’s not bad for the most part to make mistakes and I’d rather be too clumsy than be altogether miserable.

3. What happened the last time you cried? It was the day of what would’ve been our anniversary and at that moment I was alone in my car at a parking lot (waiting for the office to open) on a gloomy day. I just had to cry and let my feelings out for like 5 minutes to accept everything but I was immediately fine afterwards, haha. Grief can be funny.

4. What happened the time in your life when you were the most nervous to do something? My first job interview. It was my first adult thing ever. They never got back to me - very professional of them - but I was still grateful for the experience nonetheless.

5. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? That I was in a whole ass relationship for technically 6 1/2 years. They probably have an inkling by now, but only about me being in a relationship. I’m sure they would be very surprised if they ever found out how long it had actually gone for.

6. What’s your worst habit? I pick at my toenails when I’m nervous or stressed. I tend to do this when I’m doing a work task that I particularly dread, and sometimes I’ll end up being fixated on the habit for like 10 minutes straight and not get anything done.

7. What superpower would you have for one day? Time travel, just to take quick trips to multiple decades and see how life was like during those times.

8. What fictional character do you have the biggest crush on? Matty from 13 Going on 30 would be one of them. Albert Finney’s character in Two for the Road is also charming as fuck.

9. Where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world? If money wasn’t an issue, probably somewhere cozy in like Switzerland or Canada.

10. What is your most bizarre pet peeve? Not necessarily a pet peeve but I get extremely uncomfortable when someone hands me a gift then they insult the gift while in front of me, saying it’s not a great gift or that I probably don’t need it, etc. Filipinos also have this habit of saying something along the lines of, “You earn way more than me so you’d probably think this gift sucks” like how do you want me to react :(((((( I love receiving gifts and the idea of being thought about already means a lot to me, so it just makes me wince a little bit when I hear statements like the above.

11. Who knows you the best? Gabie, probably. I’ve changed a lot since then, though.

12. What after school activities did you do in high school? Clubs were mandatory extracurricular activities in my high school; in my time, I joined the table tennis and yearbook clubs.

13. What “most likely to” superlative would you be most honored to receive? Idk, we didn’t have those in school. I probably would have been honored to get a journalism-themed one though; something like Most Likely To Write for NYT or Most Likely to Win a Pulitzer or something like that. Obviously that’s changed now and I’ve long let go of journalism as a passion.

14. What’s the last book you really loved? I haven’t read in a long, long while.

15. What was the greatest television show of all time? I don’t watch a lot of TV so I’m not the most credible decision-making body for this lol, but out of all the shows I’ve watched the best one would easily be Breaking Bad.

16. What’s been your favorite age so far? 16. Life was insanely easygoing back then and everything fell into place for me at the time.

17. If you could go back in time, what is one piece of advice you would give your younger self? Know when it’s enough. Be kind to yourself.

18. What one thing would you be most disappointed if you never got to experience it? Have kids.

19. Apologize or ask permission? I don’t understand the relationship between the two.

20. Unlimited love or money? I would love to never have to worry about finances ever again.

21. If you knew you would die in one week, what would you do? Take a week-long leave for work, spend all my money, bond with my dogs, throw a party for my closest friends, and honestly, make my peace with her.

22. What’s your most listened to song? Spotify doesn’t show that feature, but I bet it’s from Paramore or Hayley anyway. It would be impossible to know my most-listened to song of all time, like if we took into account my Spotify, iTunes, etc.

23. Beach vacation or European vacation? I need a beach vacation badly, but a European vacation would be a new and different experience. I’d take the latter.

24. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? Playing the piano.

25. What’s the first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Depends on how much I won lmao. I’d probably retire this early if the money was big enough since I’m pretty stingy anyway. But generally, I would like to pay off whatever bills my parents are currently paying for, get back the car that we had to sell because of the pandemic, and maybe go for a solo vacation or five heheh.

26. What celebrity would you trade lives with? Kylie Jenner, for a day. Just so I can briefly have a taste of how being that rich is like.

27. If you were a performing artist, what would you title your first album? Nope.

28. What story do your friends still give you crap about? Staying with Gab despite the red flags that glared for four whole years is one of them. Angela will also never let go of that one time I tried some kind of fruit juice in high school and I described it as ‘packs a punch.’ It’s understood as a super Westernized idiom where I live and literally no one uses it in a casual sentence, so it was a hit with her and now we use ‘packs a punch’ whenever we want to describe something awesome or surprising.

29. If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Mayonnaise and I will die on this mayonnaise-coated hill.

30. What is the ideal number of people to have over on a Friday night? Ideally? At this point? Like 20. I would love for that to be the case on the first Friday we can consider the Philippines COVID-free.

31. What was the worst age you’ve been so far? Sorry for yet another incoming Paramore reference but they literally have a lyric that goes, “22 is like, the worst idea that I have ever had.” Before turning 22 I used to think it was a weird line, like how could 22 possibly be unenjoyable? Now I’m 22 in a pandemic going through a rough breakup and I can’t even see my friends nor work in my first workplace ever.

32. What is your weirdest dealbreaker? If they wanted only cats as pets. I can deal with a dog and a cat, I guess; but cats were never fond of me so I feel like I’d struggle with this situation lol.

33. What fictional character reminds you most of yourself? Mr. Peanutbutterrrrrrr. Has a lot of love to give, doesn’t always use it on the right people. Also lives on pleasing others.

34. Do you believe in karma? Just to a tiny extent, in how I would want people’s awful actions to come bite them in the ass one day. It’s not a philosophy that controls my life and the things I do whatsoever.

35. What was your favorite TV show as a kid? My absolute favorite was Hi-5, with the original cast. As I got older my interests shifted to Spongebob and The Fairly OddParents.

36. What is the weirdest thing you find attractive in a person? I don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t hear thighs too often when people list down their favorite physical traits. It’s certainly one of mine.

37. What Jeopardy! category would you clear, no problem? A Friends-themed one, obviously. This reminds me of the Jeopardy night I had with some friends a few nights ago! That was so much fun, and Andi makes really great and fun questions hahaha.

38. What is something you’re superstitious about? I don’t think I am about anything.

39. What is the scariest experience you have ever had? Maybe that night my grandpa went into a drunk rampage. I was 9, right in his line of sight, frozen and scared shitless, and I didn’t know who he was going to strike next.

40. Who is a non-politician you wish would run for office? I never really think about this. If someone’s a non-politician then there must be a reason they aren’t, lol.

41. What cheesey song do you have memorized? Little Things by One Direction is very cheesy and it’s one of my least favorite songs of theirs, but I still have it memorized out of habit.

42. What one dead person would you most like to have dinner with, if it were possible? My great-grandpa died all the way back in the 70s, even before some of my aunts and uncles could meet him. It would be cool to spend time with him.

43. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? Yeah, absolutely. I have the stomach for it lol, so I always monitor what’s happening locally and globally. Skipping the news from time to time is fine because I get how anxiety-inducing and depressing some events can be, but there’s a huge difference between ignoring the news for your mental health and being indifferent altogether. I’d immediately judge anyone who’s the latter, and would assume you are incredibly privileged.

44. What is the best present you could ever receive? My money refunded -____________- I had food delivered to my director, Bea’s house as a surprise earlier today, but apparently I ran into a scammer driver and the fucker drove away with the meal I had bought for Bea. I reported the driver and the situation, and thankfully the customer service rep of the food delivery app quickly responded and said they’d return the full amount I paid for; but I still haven’t received it.

45. Would you give up one of your fingers if it meant you’d have free wifi wherever you go, for the rest of your life? No. Mobile data exists for a reason.

46. What’s the first thing you’d do if you were the opposite sex for one day? Check out my voice.

47. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? I’d love to surprise Angela with an overseas trip that would last for like a month. Traveling is one thing we have yet to do as best friends.

48. What is the nicest thing someone could say about you? Nothing particular, but it makes me happy when people call me strong and when they validate the shit I’ve gone through over the years.

49. Giant house in a subdivision or tiny house somewhere with a view? I would take the giant house. When it comes to my own place, I would want to have a lot of space to roam around.

50. What is the weirdest quirk your family has? Nothing is coming to mind.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Bless me father

Summary: You really needed to get laid. It’s been a long two years. And when the hot stranger walked through the door of your favorite pub and said all the right things, you were sure you made the right descision when you took him home for that night. That was until you saw him 2 weeks later. In the church. Baptizing your friends child.

Words: 4.852 (holy crap)

Pairing: Priest!?John Constantine / F!Reader

warnings: Smut (and a very questionable plot)

A/N: I can’t believe I wrote this. I started this a month ago. Aparently this happens when I listen to too much Hozier and watch that certain episode of Fleabag to often (check Season 2 out). This also started out as something entire differently. But to quote @fanficsrusz (who wanted to be tagged so there you go) We’re going to hell anyway so... enjoy?

„Oh my god.“ You whispered. Looking at your sister, who was sitting beside you.

“What?” She leant to you to whisper back.

“The guy I told you about… From the pub…”

“Can we talk about him, when we’re not in a church at a baptism?”

“It’s him.” You looked at her with big eyes.

“Who?” She asked giving you the side eye.

You gestured towards the man who was holding the baby that was about to be baptized.

“I slept with the fucking priest.”

1 week earlier

 It had been one of these days. You know days when you woke up to get to work and had a mood that could only get better instead of worse.

It started with the coffee machine at home being broken. Then your car wouldn’t start, so you had to take the bus to get to work, which resulted in you being 30 minutes late. Thankfully your boss didn’t mind, it had been the first time. But when you got to your desk and saw the amount of work that waited for you, you wanted to scream. Instead you rolled your eyes and got to work.

10 hours later, the only thing that could lift your mood was a beer at your favourite pub.

They knew you there. You basically spend most of your free time there. Not as a crazy drunk person. But you enjoyed your occasional beer. And the company.

  “There you are. I was wondering if you would get here today.” Alex, the owner of the pub, said as you sat down in front of him. He looked like your godfather. But younger. And more Swedish.

Your beer was standing in front of you only seconds later. You took a big sip.

“Jesus this day sucked.” You sighed, losing your coat, putting it on the seat next to you.

“Wanna talk about it?” Alex looked at you.

“It’s just one of these days…” You knew exactly why you were in such a shitty mood. Alex looked at you calmly.

“It’s been 2 years on the day, hasn’t it?” He asked. You nodded, picking up your beer and emptying it.

“You need to get over it.”

“You don’t just get over your husband dying in a car crash.” You looked at Alex, who was sighing.

“I know. But he wouldn’t want you to be miserable. He’d say you need to get laid. It’s been 2 years Sweetheart.” Alex winked at you, which made you chuckle. Yes. That sounded like Jake. And Alex would know. He was his best friend.

“And how do I get laid? It’s not like there’s a line somewhere.”

The door of the pub opened, and your head turned in the direction, to see who entered. Good thing you already drank your beer. There was no other words as to describe him as sex on legs.

Completely dressed in black, he looked through the room and slowly made his way to the opposite end of the bar you were sitting in. He had short dark hair, no beard, which brought out his perfect cheekbones. Alex chuckled beside you. You closed your mouth which apparently had opened and coughed looking at him.

“Maybe he can get you laid.” He whispered grinning, walking down the bar to take his order.

“Oh my god shut up.” You called after him, which made him laugh loudly. The hot stranger looked at you, his eyebrows raised, before his attention was on Alex to order.

  Another beer was placed in front of you a couple of minutes later.

“I need to get up early tomorrow. No more beer for me. But I’ll take a tea.” You told Alex.

“It’s not from me.” You looked at him, and he nodded in the direction down the bar.

“Oh come on. Stop messing with me.”

“I’m not. He told me to get you your favourite. Because you looked like hell.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head.

“I’m not.” He held his hands up innocently. You looked at him, and came to the conclusion, that he was not messing with you. You got up, took the beer and walked over to hot guy.

“Are you always randomly offending people, or am I the exception?” You asked, standing beside him. He turned in his seat to look at you. His brown eyes taking you in. Damn.

“It wasn’t my intention to offend you. I merely wanted to improve your day.”

“By saying I look like hell?”

“By inviting you for a drink, so you wouldn’t think about what is on your mind.”

“Right.” You looked confused at him, there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“If you want talk about it…”

“Why would I talk about my issues with a complete stranger?”

“People say I’m a good listener.”

“What people?”

“People.” He shrugged his shoulders. Alex apparently had served him his drink. Scotch.

You still looked at him confused, as he picked up his glass and brought it to his lips. You breathed in deep, as you saw his jawline work. Jesus fucking Christ…

“Tea?” Alex stood beside you, trying to hide his grin.

“Thanks.” You took it and sat down beside hot stranger guy who looked at you.

“I’m John by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“So what is on your mind?”

“Just a shitty day I guess.”

“Talk about shitty days.” He shook his head, breathing out loudly.

“Oh?” You asked.

“First day at the new job. Not exactly happy how it went.” He explained.

“Wanna talk about it? People say I’m a good listener.” You smirked at him. He laughed, holding his hand in front of his mouth. That was cute.

“Not much to talk about. I took over the job that had been done by someone else for almost 20 years and everything is a mess. It will take me forever to sort it out.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is complicated. Thank you. The first one who finally understands me.” He genuinely smiled.

“You are very welcome.” You winked at him and you could swear you saw him blush, but he hid his face in his hands very quickly.

You looked across the room to spot Alex who was giving you two thumbs. You rolled your eyes and put you attention back to John.

“So what about you?” He asked you.

“What about me?”

“Why did you have a shitty day?” He put his head on one of his hands, turning his whole attention to you.

“Oh… Just… Work stuff. And a broken coffee machine in the morning. And… then my car wouldn’t start. Shit I forgot about that.”

“Good thing it’s Friday. Or do you need your car tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’m planning on staying in bed the whole weekend.” You nibbled innocently on your tea and John coughed, having just drank from his scotch.

You put your hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

“You okay?” You asked him. He nodded.

“Thank you.”

  “So, if you just started working here, have you seen any of the sights?” You asked him, having talked for about an hour about what came to your minds.

“I actually grew up here.”

“You did?”

“In the orphanage on the other side of town.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s been 40 years, I think I can tell you, that my parents died in a car crash, when I was 4 years old.”

“Must have been hard to grow up there.”

“It was.” He looked at your hand, which was laying on his. You didn’t even notice that you put it there. He turned his hand, enwinding your fingers with his, drawing small circles on the back of your hand. You closed your eyes, breathing in deep, before you opened them again to look at him. The look he gave you, with his slightly parted lips, eyes as dark as chocolate, made you shiver.

“We’re closing.” Alex shouted and you blinked a couple of times, before you turned your head. There were only 4 people left, including the two of you.

“Put it on my tab?” You asked Alex.

“Sure thing. What about you?” He looked at John, who still had the same expression on his face. He searched for a couple of notes, and handed him over to Alex.

“That’s 20 to much.”

“Keep it.” He finally looked at Alex, smiling gently.

“Well thank you. Please come back as often as you like.” Alex smiled. John nodded.

“Do you need a lift home?” Alex asked you.

You looked from him to John.

“I think I’m good Alex. Thanks.”

“Well then. See you tomorrow.” Alex handed you your coat. John stood and held it out for you, helping you put it on.

“Thanks.” You knotted the belt of you coat, looking up at John. He really was tall. You didn’t notice it all the time you were sitting beside him.

“Can I give you a lift home?” He asked, putting his jacket on.

“That would be great, yes.” You smiled up at him, already going to the door.

As soon as the cold night air hit you, you were wide awake. Were you about to invite a complete stranger into your home? Well not complete stranger. You liked him. He wasn’t wrong when he told you, that he was a good listener.

The door behind you opened, and John stepped out, a cigarette in his mouth, lightening it on his way over to you. What was it about good looking men and cigarettes?

“Where’s your car?” You ask.

“I don’t have a car.” He came to stand in front of you and nodded his head to your right, where a motorcycle was standing.

“I’ve never rode a motorcycle.” You confessed.

“Well another first time.” He whispered, putting the hair, that had fallen into your face, behind your ear, softly touching your ear, caressing you cheek.

“Another first time?” You asked hoarsely, your hand hesitantly wandering up his chest. He was so close.

“First time at the new job. First time at the pub. First time meeting you. First time…” He turned his head, to push the smoke out of his lungs, throwing the cigarette away. You could feel his heart beating, beneath your fingers.

“First time?” You asked shakily.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He whispered as he bend down to kiss your lips. His soft lips lay firm on yours, his arms coming around you, to put you flush against his chest. Your hands wandered into his neck, up in his hair, making him open his mouth, where your tongue found his. He bit lightly into your lip as you parted for some air. Apparently you needed air to survive. A weird concept when you knew you could be kissing him instead.

He looked down at you. You could see the passion in his eyes. But there was something else in it. Confusion? Regret? You weren’t sure.

“Let’s get you home.” He again whispered and helped you sit on his motorcycle, putting the helmet on your head, before he himself sat in front of you, grabbing you hands, crossing them around his waist. You clanged to his back.

“Where to?” He asked. You gave him your address, offering directions.

“No need. I know exactly where to go.” He winked at you, as he put his helmet on and started the engine.

  You barely made it through the door of your house, as John picked you up, pinning you with your back on the door, kissing you demanding. Your legs came around his hips, as his hand wandered up your thigh, his other hand next to your head on the wall. You whimpered, as he began to roll his hips, making you feel just how aroused he was.

“We shouldn’t do this.” He whispered again, his tongue drawing a line down your throat, kissing your neck.

“You... You keep saying that… But you’re doing it anyway.” You stuttered, drawing your head back to rest at the door behind you. He pushed you further up, his hand wandering from your thigh up to you cleavage. He opened the first buttons of you blouse, before he quickly shoved it open, buttons flying everywhere. His tongue dipped between you still clothed breasts, before he put the cup of your bra down, and gently sucked on your nipple, before he bit in it, making you cry out loud.

“Keep doing that, and I’m going to…” You started to say, as his lips closed around your other bud, sucking hard, his tongue flicking around it.

“Oh god…” You cried out, your whole body shaking. He stopped what he was doing, looking at you.

“Did you just..?” He raised an eyebrow. You grabbed him by his shirt, and kissed him hard.

“Yes I did just cum John. And you haven’t even touched me anywhere near to where I want you to touch me.” Growling he pushed you off the door.

“Bedroom.” There was no question in his voice. You put your feet down on the ground, suddenly feeling very confident, as you removed your blouse and opened your bra, never leaving his eyes, as you let them both fall to the ground. His eyes taking you in. You turned around, walking up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t long until you felt two arms around your waist, his head coming to rest on your shoulder before he picked you up again, tossing you on your bed shrieking. You turned, resting your weight on your arms as you looked up at him. The only light in the room was the moonlight that came through the windows, accenting his figure even more. He wasn’t just hot. He was beautiful.

“You’re wearing entirely to many clothes, John.” You said, wetting your lips, as you looked up at him. You pushed yourself up, to knee on the bed and began to open his shirt. One button after the next, before you slowly pushed it down his shoulders. Kissing his collarbones, your hands rested on his chest. You let your tongue wander down, nibbling on his nipple. You looked up at him, his eyes watching your every move.

You kissed yourself down his stomach, dipping your tongue into his bellybutton, before your hand began to rub him through his pants. He was impressive to say the least. He moaned, as you slowly worked your hand up and down. You could see his jaw tense, he closed his eyes, surely enjoying what you were doing. You were about to open his belt, when you felt his hands on yours.

“Lay back, legs up.” He whispered demanding.

  You bit your lip, as you let yourself fall down into your bed. He grabbed your legs, slowly dragging down your pants and panties in one go. He tossed them behind him, kissing your ankle, as he slowly kneeled down, spreading your legs on his way down. You suddenly felt very exposed, laying like this in front of him, and tried to close your legs, as you felt his lips on your inner thigh. You looked down at him, as his head lay in front of you, just looking at your core.

You were about to ask, what he was doing, when he gently pushed himself up and his lips lightly sucked on your outer lips. You let your head fall back in the sheets, moaning deeply. It had been more than 2 years since anyone than you had even touched you.

Sucking and licking his way up he closed his lips around your clit and flicked his lips over it. Your hands flew into his hair to hold him there. You could feel him smiling, as he licked himself down to your opening, shoving his tongue into you. You couldn’t look away from his eyes, that were intensely looking at you, as he began to eat you out. You were breathing heavy, when you felt two of his fingers pushing into you, his tongue working on your clit. Your hips started to move to get him deeper ,when his fingers brushed over a particular spot inside you, that had you nearly screaming.

“There it is...” He himself nearly moaned. He put all his attention to this spot, while you grabbed the sheets beside you.

“Fuck. I’m gonna...” You moaned.

“Come” He murmured, sucking hardly on your clit. You came, your whole body shaking, breathing heavy, rolling your hips, as he fingerfucked you through your orgasm. You were pretty sure you saw stars at some point.

He pulled his fingers out of you, putting them in his mouth before he leant down to you, kissing you, tasting yourself. Your hands crossed behind his neck, making their way down his strong back, your fingers sneaking in his pants, lightly scratching his ass.

He growled, reaching for your hands.

“Hands up. And leave them there.”

“Yes Sir.” You groaned, putting your hands above your head, resting them on your pillow. Who would have thought you like being manhandled?

He opened his belt, pulling it out of it’s loops in one movement, throwing it on the ground. You bit your lip. The anticipation was nearly killing you.

He opened the buttons of his pants, letting them drop to the ground. Apparently he wasn’t a big fan of underwear. Crawling on top of you, you suppressed the urge to put your arms around him. He kissed himself up from your hips, leaving a line to your breasts, up to you neck, before his lips were on yours. You could feel him at you entrance, rolling your hips to get some kind of friction. He bit in your earlobe and sucked on the skin behind you ear. Your hands came to rest on his back, lightly scratching his skin, as he looked at you.

“Didn’t I say to leave your hands up?” He asked, moving his tip up and down your slit, making you moan.

“I never said I would.” You rolled your hips, his tip slightly sinking into you. He smirked before he pushed forward and thrusted his length into you. You closed your eyes, opening your mouth but no sound came out of it. You felt so full.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered, his left arm sneaking behind your back, lifting you up slightly. You opened your eyes, breathing in deep as he began to slowly move inside you. Unintentionally you clenched your muscles, making him moan.

“God you’re tight.”

“It’s been some time.” You groaned, rolling your hips to meet his movements.

“For me too.” He grabbed your leg, putting it over his shoulder, fastening his pace.

“I find that hard to believe.” You shuddered, as he brushed against that spot again.

“Hmmm... Harder” You moaned, your hands wandering down to touch yourself.

He started to thrust harder into you, grabbing your other leg, putting it on his shoulder too. He was so deep inside of you, you would be sore for days. His hand came down, to where you were touching yourself, moving your hand faster, as he quickened his movements.

Your whole body shook as you came within seconds, hissing he pulled out of you to come on your stomach. You were both breathing heavy as he leaned down to kiss you, before he let himself fall on his back next to you. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple minutes, both of you trying to control your breathing. When you began to shiver, this time from the cold, you got up to the ensuite to pee and clean yourself a little. Walking back you saw him looking at you, so you extra swayed your hips. As you climbed back into your bed, warm arms came around you to pull you on his chest. You put the blanket above both of you and fell asleep within the next minutes, listening to his heartbeat.

  …..

  Your sister looked at you with big eyes, before she straightened up in her seat, eying the priest. There was no doubt. It was John, that was wearing a beige robe, taking about how blessed this child is, now that it is about to be baptized and become a child of god.

“I mean he is hot. You didn’t lie there.” Your sister said, turning her head to you.

“He still is a priest. A catholic priest. Who is supposed to live in celibate.”

“From what you’ve told me, I don’t think he lives in celibate.” She whispered, wiggling her eyebrows. The priest looked through the crowd and was startled for a second, as he spotted you. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you had the best sex of your life with a catholic priest, so you didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying.

  You were standing outside together with your sister, when you shivered. Your sister looked behind you, and then back to you.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She kissed your cheek. “Don’t blame yourself. He should have told you. Also. He’s really really hot.”

“Not helpful.” You whispered back as she smiled.

“Father.” She greeted him and left you standing with him.

  Shaking your head you exhaled and turned around.

“Can I do something for you, Father?” You raised your eyebrow and John looked down at you. He had lost his robe somewhere on the way and was only wearing his black pants and dress shirt. And his clerical collar. You crossed your arms in front of you. Waiting for him to say something.

“I should have told you.”

“No shit.” You hissed. A couple of heads turned towards you and you nodded smiling at them until they turned away from you.

“Would it have mattered if I told you?” He asked. You thought about that. Would it? You took to long to answer, and saw him nodding his head, a little smirk on his face.

“I can’t talk about that on the baptism of my friends baby.”

“Then come see me later. I’ll be here.” He gestured to the church.

“ I’m sure you will.”  You said and left him standing.

  “Oh please. Don’t tell me you would have said no, if he had told you. You merely regret the lost opportunity of moaning Father when he made you come.” Your sister said.

“Rude.” You punched her arm, drinking your second glass of prosecco. You had left the party after the baptism rather shortly. Your sister following you. Now you were sitting on her balcony, looking down the street.

“What did he say after I left?” She asked.

“He wants to talk. I should come see him at the church.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“Trying to talk myself out of going there, because I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself, if he’s standing in front of me.”

Your sister shrugged her shoulders. “We’re all going to hell anyway. If you get all hot and bothered because you get laid by a priest, who cares? We’re atheists anyway.”

“How are we related?” You asked her and shook your head laughing, emptying your glass.

“Okay I’m going.”

  He was standing outside of the church, when you exited your car. The sun just started to go down, leaving a pink light to illuminate everything. He spotted you right away and walked towards you, putting his cigarette out, which he had been smoking.

  “You have some explaining to do.” You told him. He nodded.

“Let’s get inside. I have to get my stuff.”

“Okay.”

You walked behind him into the church. You shouldn’t be thinking about how his naked skin under your fingers felt. Or how he tasted, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stopping in the middle of the aisle you looked up to the big cross hanging in front of you.

You never had been raised religious. Your parents didn’t believe in it, and neither did you. Still, it felt weird. Having thoughts like these in a church. The house of god. Where people came to pray.

“If it would make you feel better, I could take your confession.” John was standing at the altar, waiting for you.

“I’m not catholic. And I don’t think you taking my confession would help me ease my thoughts. Shouldn’t you be confessing? Or punishing yourself? You didn’t just break you celibate, you lied. You drank. Aren’t these all things, you’re supposed to not be doing? Stop smiling at me you idiot.”

“I’m sorry. And yes. Yes you’re right. I did break all the rules to have you but I don’t regret it.”

“No?”

He walked towards you and your breath hitched, when he stopped right in front of you. You could feel his warmth and smell his scent.

“Let me take your confession.” He whispered into your ear and you swallowed. Where you about to have kinky sex in a church? He tilted his head, towards the confessional and started walking towards it, disappearing on the left side. Headshaking you followed him, sitting down on the right side, closing the curtain. There was little coming from the other side where John was sitting.

“So what should I confess to you now?” You asked, crossing your legs.

“That’s not how it works. You say Bless me father for I have sinned and then you tell me when your last confession was.”

“But I’m not catholic.”

“Humour me.”

“You just want me to address you as father because you like hearing it, don’t you?” And deep inside you, you did too. You were met with silence on the other side

Ah fuck it.

“Bless me father for I have sinned. I’ve never confessed, so it’s been a little more than 32 years.”

“What do you have to confess?”

“Apart from sleeping with a catholic priest who is sitting next to me?” She quirked her eyebrow. You could hear him chuckle.

“Yes. Apart from that.”

You sighed.

“Well I’m not exactly familiar with your rules. But... I guess it’s safe to say I use God’s name in every way not appropriate. Let’s see... I once lied to my mom about going to a slumber party with my best friend, when I really went to sleep with my boyfriend.  Oh I stole a bathrobe at a hotel once. I’m good at this.” You laughed a little.

“This is not supposed to be fun.”

“Well maybe you should confess your sins then.” You suggested.

“You’re no priest.”

“And I’m not catholic and yet her I sit, confessing my sins to you.” You were met with silence again.

After a couple minutes you were pretty sure, that he wouldn’t talk, so you stood, walking out of the confessional, when a hand grabbed your wrist, and he pulled you back, closing the door behind you, pushing you down on his lap. His lips were on yours, as his hands wandered under your dress up your thigh. Your hands were in his hair. You couldn’t believe this was happening. He rubbed you over the thin fabric of your panties, before he pulled it to the side and shoved his finger deep inside of you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Arching your back, your hands came to his shoulders, lifting you up and down, as you rode his finger. He added two more and you positively lost your mind. Until he firmly grabbed you hip, keeping you still, stopping all his movements, with his fingers buried deep inside of you.

You looked down at him.

“You want me to confess my sins?” He asked you, slowly moving his fingers inside of you. You bit your lip and nodded.

“I came here to take care of something, but on my first night here I met you.” His thumb came up to your clit, beginning to slowly draw circles, while his fingers still moved within you. You whimpered.

“And instead of focusing on my task here, all I can think about is the various places I want to fuck you in.” He began to move faster.

“It’s difficult as it is, trying to play the priest, but you...” He shook his head. “You I haven’t counted in.”

It took a while until the information he just gave you, processed in your brain.

“You’re not a priest?” You asked.

“I didn’t say that.” He smirked.

You crossed your arms around his neck, as you felt your orgasm approach fast.

“John...” You breathed as you came, tugging on his hair, as you rode down your high.

You barely heard his zipper, before he replaced his fingers inside you with his cock.

“Oh god.” You moaned quietly.

“Again with the blasphemy.” He chuckled, grabbing your legs, to put them behind his back, picking you up and pressing you against the wall. He started to push into you faster and harder.

“Bloody Hell John” You moaned, as you felt his finger rubbing your clit. You were about to come again.

“That’s where we’re all going anyway honey.” He groaned in your ear, as he spilled inside of you, taking you over the edge with him.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- I don’t really know how to say this, but this chapter was meant to add ‘texture’ (for lack of a better term) I added personal/childhood details about the reader’s life, though, obviously, it’s purely for fiction, so yeah. Idk, why I put this note but it’s staying)

Chapter1  Chapter2  Chapter3  Chapter4  Chapter5

Chapter 6- Afterglow

“In a way I know my heart is waking up As all the walls come tumbling down Closer than I’ve ever felt before.” Faith Hill, Breathe

They laid on the rug for a while, the only movement being Keanu’s fingers ghosting up and down Y/n’s back. They didn't talk for a while, and Y/n kept her head on his chest, almost being lulled to sleep by the sound of Keanu’s steady heartbeat. In fact, her eyes were just slipping closed when he spoke up, asking; “Are you sure that was okay?”

Confused, she raised off him a bit, only understanding when their yes met in the dim lighting, “Oh, you mean....” Y/n shook her head, “Don’t worry about it, I’m on the pill.”

“Oh, good,” Keanu breathed, relieved. Urging her head back onto his chest, they lapsed into another bout of steady silence, that time his fingers raking gently through the ends of Y/n’s hair as she traced absent circles onto Keanu’s chest. Her touch was relaxing; her nails barely tickling his skin and Keanu couldn’t remember that last time he wanted to just lay like that with someone. Sure, he had spent hours doing it in past relationships, but he had found that even the most mundane moments spent with Y/n felt far different, like they were actually moments to be savored, each with it’s own hidden treasure.

It took a while, and neither of them knew how late it was, when Y/n broke the silence, “Do you think this is going to work?” Her voice was so soft; if the room weren’t so quiet, Keanu might not have heard her.

For a while, he thought on it; there were so many factors to consider. She was so young, had so much left to do, surly she wasn’t in the same place he was. Keanu had lived most of his life already, chased his dreams, faced heartbreak and failure. He had also experienced the best parts of life, achievements in his career, opening his own company, making a home for himself in a place that he loved. But Y/n, she had just started and Keanu wasn’t sure if they’d ever be in the same place; he was ready to settle down, build a family and he hadn’t known her long enough to know if that’s what she wanted to. “I don’t know,” he finally determined, keeping his thoughts to himself, he had a feeling it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she mused, a bit louder that time, her fingers circling slower and slower on the center of his chest before she stopped, only to layer her palm over his heartbeat. “You’re thinking that we’re that its not really possible because your older. That I’m not ready,” she paused and the mood sobered significantly, the remnants of what they had done only physical by then. Everything else, the afterglow, had faded and laying there, once again, they were once again two overly cautious adults, “My mother wasn’t ready.”

They had talked so much over the past two weeks, but Y/n hadn’t really brought up her family, all he knew was that she had a younger brother who had moved to work in Germany after college. “What do you mean?” Keanu probed cautiously, hoping the topic was too much of a sensitive one.

Y/n shrugged, “My dad is older than her, they met when she was twenty-five and she had me six months after they got married. She always talks about how different her life would have been if she hadn’t gotten married that soon, or have me.” Y/n sniffed quietly and though he couldn’t feel any tears falling from her, he wondered if she was crying, or rather, trying not too, “She wasn’t ready and she never wanted kids, but she had us anyway, because she loves him. She’s always worried that I won’t be ready too.”

“Are you?” Keanu held his breath for her answer; he wasn’t sure where they’d go if their visons of the future didn’t align. He liked her, he even thought, that maybe, just maybe, he was falling in love with her. Despite Peter’s warnings, and Julie’s worries that they might be going too fast, despite his own promises that they’d go slow, somewhere in between holding her hand while the sun set on the beach and falling asleep minutes after her breathing went soft and even over the phone as it rained on Monday night, Keanu had starting falling for Y/n and he didn’t want to lose her. But he didn’t want to change his mind either, he wanted what his sisters had, what his friends had, a family; a wife who he’d love until his last breath and children who he could watch grow up.

“I.....” she trailed off, adjusting in his embrace, “My mom wasn’t ready, because that that wasn’t the life she wanted, she just wanted my dad. But, me, I’ve always that. So yeah, maybe I’m ready,” she still sounded a little unsure, but there was a distinct resolve in her tone.

Keanu exhaled quietly, feeling more relieved that he thought he would. Maybe they didn’t have to be the same age to want the same things. His arms tightened around Y/n and Keanu bent awkwardly to kiss her hair, “I want this to work,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

At some point through out the night, Y/n and Keanu had untangled form each other, and after a not so quick, shared shower, they had resigned to her bed. It was the first night he had spent with her and for a while, until his eyelids grew heavy, he watched her sleep in his arms; the outline of her features barely visible, her warm breath fanning his chest. He couldn’t see it, but he’d imagine that her long lashes were brushing against the top of her cheeks, tangled together and her lips were parted so very slightly that it was barely noticeable while strewn hair fell over her face, shrouding the face he was growing to adore.

The clock on Y/n’s side of the bed read 2:40 am when Keanu finally submitted to dreamless slumber, still holding her close.

When Y/n awoke at the ungodly shrieking of her alarm at six in the morning, she was still wrapped up in Keanu’s warm embrace and Y/n had to quickly reach over to slap the ‘snooze’ button on the digital alarm clock. For a minute, she had worried that the blaring noise would rouse him, but after a moment, Y/n relaxed when Keanu didn’t even budge. 

Sighing quietly, Y/n cuddled towards his chest a little more; her back to his front. Behind her, Keanu snored softly and she could feel the warmth of his breath on the exposed parts of her neck. Just for a second, she closed her eyes, Y/n knew that if she didn’t get up soon, it would be suicide to her schedule; she had to be at work by nine, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave Keanu, not yet. 

One of his arms had found a place around her waist over the sheets and as Y/n put her hand over his, she couldn’t help but let her mind wonder to the night before; what they had done, what they had talked about before and after. Admittedly, it was a bit scary; the wave of emotion that followed the thought of Keanu was never one she thought she’d experience and after just two weeks, they were talking about a future together. And while it was something she wanted and while Y/n had a surprising amount faith in a relationship with Keanu, it wasn’t without fear. What would people think if they just rushed into things? What would happen in a few years when the shine wore off? Would they still love each other, or would they be stuck trying to compensate for things they no longer felt?

Before Y/n could sink any further down the rabbit hole of worry, her alarm went off again; she always had a second one set incase, she, for some reason, overslept. That time, the noise stirred Keanu just as she hit violently slapped the top. The sun was about to rise and the first hints of brightness had just started peaking through the crack of her drapes. Next to her Keanu groaned before asking, “What time is it?” His voice was even lower than usual and thick with sleep.

Cringing at the fact that she had woken him probably earlier than he used too, Y/n squeaked out, “Twenty past six. Sorry,” she whispered, already tryin to untangle from him.

Despondently, Keanu huffed, reeling Y/n back in and burying his face in her neck, “It’s so early, where are you going?”

Trying to protest, Y/n giggled quietly, “I have to get ready for work. We’re not all movie stars you know,” she teased lightly.

“Ouch,” Keanu feigned offense, still peppering kissed to the back of Y/n’s neck, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. He hummed against her skin between kisses, before he continued, “Where is work?” She could almost hear his smile, “And when do you have to be there?”

“It’s in the city and I have to be there by nine,” Y/n tried to sound firm, failing miserably, “But I’ll be late if we stay here.”

“Nine is far away,” Keanu argued without even glancing at the clock.

“Two and a half hours isn’t a lot,” she countered, “Come on, I have to get ready and then there might be traffic....” With a pout, Keanu finally let her go, and reluctantly, Y/n got out of bed, throwing on her robe. After offering Keanu a quick peck on the side of his cheek, she disappeared into the bathroom to start getting ready.

Y/n stood in the kitchen, spooning some sugar into her coffee, already mostly dressed in a soft grey pencil skirt that ended above her knees and just her bra, while Keanu stood at the counter, in his jeans sans t-shirt, spreading jam onto some toast. “You know,” Y/n began, breaking the comfortable silence, “We could have lunch together; there a nice place near my office,” suddenly growing nervous, she hurriedly added, “I mean, if you’re worried we might be seen together it’s okay. We can always do dinner or something else.” Their first two dates had been at places where he wouldn’t be recognized; a low-key restaurant, a dimly lit bar and the private beach she lived on. But that restaurant was pretty popular and Y/n wasn’t sure if Keanu would be okay with all the speculations that might come with a lunch date; he seemed pretty private. 

Placing the butter knife on the counter, slice of bread still in hand, Keanu approached Y/n, trapping her between the kitchen sink and his larger body, leaning down to capture her lips in  sweet kiss, “Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, we just started dating; people might think things.”

“They might,” he agreed, “They might also take pictures, and record videos and ask about stuff that isn’t their business. In fact, I should be asking you if you’re okay with being seen with me,” he inhaled deeply, his smile now gone, “Are you okay with that stuff? I mean, we can hide it for a while, but eventually....”

“Everyone will know,” she finished with a sigh, pulling her bottom between her teeth.

“Yeah,” Keanu used his free hand to cup her cheek, guiding her to meet his eyes, “Is that something you might be okay with?”

Y/n inhaled deeply, taking a sip from her coffee as she thought on it. What that life be like? What if everyone hated her, or worse yet; hated them together? Could she deal with it? Could she do it for him? Y/n’s lips quivered in indecision; she so badly wanted to say yes, just so Keanu would be reassured, but didn’t want to sign on to something that she didn’t have the slightest clue about.

Before she could speak, Keanu cut her off, “You don’t need to answer right now,” he offered her a half smile, “Just think on it for a while. And right now, we’ll just enjoy the privacy while it lasts.”

Y/n’s smile remerged and she set her cup down, her arms winding around his neck as he stood on her toes to give him a kiss, “That sounds perfect,” she mumbled.

At some point, kissing was accompanied by soft giggles and by some miracle, Y/n got jam on her face and Keanu got some in his beard. Soft giggles turned to loud laughter and relief that Y/n had yet to put on her blouse; lest she ruin a perfectly good top with raspberry jam. 

“So this is why you missed our run,” Julie’s voice coming from the other side of the counter had both Y/n and Keanu jumping in surprise, still wrapped up in each other. They both stood there, shock written on their faces and Julie’s faux frown morphed into a wide grin, “Does this mean what I think it means?” She gestured between them.

Wiggling out of Keanu’s arms, Y/n started using a dish towel to wipe some of the jam off her face while he disappeared, presumably to her bedroom in search of his t-shirt, nonchalantly returning, “I don’t know Jules, what do you think it means?”

Upon returning shortly after, Keanu observed them silently, smiling a bit as things unfolded. Julie scoffed, walking around the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee, “Don’t be coy Y/n/n, you know you were gonna tell me about it anyway.”

“You were gonna tell her?” Keanu interjected, eyes wide, “Should I be worried?”

“About performance reviews?” Julie teased.

“Jules!” Y/n nudged her friend’s shoulder, “That’s not what it is,” she turned to Keanu, “She’s just pulling your leg. And she’s gonna stop. Right?” Y/n raised her eyebrows as she turned back to Julie.

“Mhm, yeah,” Julie nodded, still grinning giddily, “Definitely gonna think about it.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing that pressing the issue wouldn’t take her far. So instead, she returned to easy conversation with Keanu, discussing the specifics of their lunch date, until they stopped when Julie made an audible sound of surprise. “What?”

“You spent the night!” She pointed accusingly to Keanu.

“I did,” shifting to look at Keanu, hoping Y/n, who just shook her shoulders, could offer some sort of explanation.

Without waiting for them to ask, Julie explained, “You two are a thing now. An actual couple,” she mused.

******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666  @kindainlovewithkeanu​  @a-really-bi-girl​  @soarocks​  @a-really-bi-girl​ 

[xmarveled]

You’re Mine, Now and Forever with @bxcksdoll

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader x Thor

Part 2

Summary: Steve Rogers is a complete and utter dick, but he loves Y/N. When she leaves him, his dark side comes out.

Warning: Abuse, harassment, violence. (Smut and dark!Steve in next chapter so stay tuned!

A/N: First off, this was co-written with my love @bxcksdoll, who has this amazing idea. This is also for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s challenge. Congrats on 3000 bby!❤️ Dark!Steve shows up next chapter, so don’t get too disappointed if you don’t see him In this chap. ;) If you want to request an Avenger x Reader, feel free to drop an ask, leave a comment below or send me a message! ^^

To say you were feeling lonely was an understatement - you preferred to think of it as utterly and miserably neglected by the man who held your wholesome, lovesick heart in his hands. For the past couple of weeks, you had felt increasingly distant from your boyfriend, Steve Rogers. Tonight wasn’t any different. However, tonight was even worse.

Tony was hosting one of his prominent parties which consisted of other celebrities, journalists, government personnel and, of course, Avengers. As you glanced around the room, Steve could be seen chatting with overly glamorous women, at almost every minute of the night; this made you sick to your stomach, ashamed and disappointed that he was the man you called your boyfriend. Tony was hosting one of his prominent parties which consisted of other celebrities, journalists, government personnel and, of course, Avengers. As you glanced around the room, Steve could be seen chatting with overly glamorous women, at almost every minute of the night; this made you sick to your stomach, ashamed and disappointed that he was the man you called your boyfriend.

The night had started off well - or so you had thought. Before everyone began to arrive, a sense of hope soared through you that you and Steve would resolve whatever had affected your relationship, lately. You had no idea, yourself, why Steve had been distant but you were too scared to ask incase it would start an argument and he would leave you.

However, now seeing him throw himself at these women made you question your previous restrain on the topic. After this party, you knew you had to confront him, he couldn’t expect you to stay with him after obviously neglecting you and going for other women.

A pang if sadness hit your chest and made your stomach fall to the floor. You recalled how you felt a couple of hours ago: you spent hours choosing your dress, styling your hair and doing your makeup. You made sure to pick more of a 40s-style dress in the high hopes that Steve would notice and praise you for it. However, it was clear to you now that he didn’t care how much effort you had put in.

After you dressed yourself up, you had strutted down to the party. To your luck, you had received many numbers of compliments and stares from people around the room.

However, none from Steve. He spotted you as you walked in from across the room, gave a tight smile and then carried on with his convocation with Bucky and some women (who were clearly all models).

This neglectful greeting sank your heart to the ground floor, your breath left your body in disbelief. Quickly, you regained yourself and made sure no one noticed the glossy way that your eyes sparkled more than usual. For most of the night, you had stayed by Natasha and Wanda, unable to bring yourself to face your boyfriend. You had nothing to say to him and he, clearly, felt the same.

As the end of the party neared, Natasha had been whisked away by some government worker who she was trying to get information from whilst Wanda left with Vision to have some privacy on the balcony.

You sat alone and distraught, at the bar, sipping on a drink which you didn’t even remember ordering - you were too focused on Steve to remember even asking. The way his eyes crinkled with laughter when one of the many women would say something funny - the same way he used to laugh at your jokes - or the way he would subtly lay a hand on one of the women’s arm in the same way he did with you.

The only thing stopping you from marching straight over there and picking a fight right there was your knowledge of how many journalists there were at the party. You couldn’t cause a scene without it being big news headlines the next day. So, instead, you sat alone at the side of the bar, staring ahead at Steve and the cluster of women around him.

Slowly, a figure began to sit down next to you but you didn’t notice. The voice of a man could be heard but your brain couldn’t fully process it. Finally, a hand rested on your arm and you turned to your right to look away from Steve and at the god beside you.

“Good evening, Lady Y/N,” Thor’s soft voice calmed your nerves slightly. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concern laced in his voice as he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah-yeah I’m fine,” you lied, twirling your drink between your fingers.

“Hmm, are you positive, my lady? I think you’re lying.”

“I’m fine, Thor. Why are you so concerned anyway?” you snapped, taking your anger out on him.

Thor put his hands up in defence, “I’m sorry. I was just concerned about you sitting here all alone.” His words warmed your heart and you felt a pang of guilt at losing your temper with him.

“Thank you, Thor, but I want to be alone,” you turned your face from his, back over to wear Steve stood.

“I think you’re lying again, Lady Y/N. It seems to me you’d rather be over yonder with Steve,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you join him?”

You turned to him, eyes filled with pain staring into his. “Is that some sort of joke?!” you demanded. “You must have seen him hitting on other girls all night - I can’t face him!”

Realisation hit Thor as his eyebrows grew heavy, staring harshly over at your boyfriend. “Oh, I never noticed. I guess I’ve been too focused on you and thinking of ways to cheer you up,” he gave a sad smile.

He carried on talking but you couldn’t hear him, you were too busy with your eyes on Steve. This time, the super soldier was whispering something in a woman’s ear, teasing her as she giggled in response.

Your fingernails dug harshly into your palms as the muscles in your arms clenched. A feeling of disgust washed over you, everything but Steve disappearing around you.

How could he act like this? He was the sweetest man you knew - this wasn’t like him at all. What had happened between the two of you?

You felt, what was left of, your heart beat faster in your chest. Your hands began to shake - out of fury or sorrow you couldn’t tell. Thor noticed your distress and, once again, placed his hand on your arm to stop you from shaking so much.

Light entered back in the room at his touch, you turned towards him and tried to muster a smile, with all the strength in your trembling lips. Thor rubbed up and down your arm, in a comforting fashion, and you leaned closer to him.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up, my lady?” Thor asked, hopefully.

You sniffed a little, wiping your eyes. “I’m not sure anything will cheer me up, Thor,” you replied, melancholy eyes staring into his which were full of pity.

“How about a dance?” he suggested and you perked up a bit.

Laughing quietly, you accepted his offer and his face lit up with enthusiasm. Thor always knew how to make you feel better at the worst of times.

He stood up, without a second thought, holding out his hand for you. You took it it, willingly, and he escorted you to the dance floor where a few other couples were dancing - including Tony and Pepper.

As the two of you reached the dance floor, Thor cautiously placed his hands on your waist and you slung your own around the back of his neck. You both began to sway, slowly to the music echoing through the party.

For ages, you danced together. Thor was extremely fun to talk to and he was especially good at keeping you distracted from Steve. Since he had asked you to dance, you hadn’t even glanced at your boyfriend; you figured that he hadn’t looked your way either. However, you didn’t know how wrong you were. Ever since you stepped onto the dance floor, Steve’s attention was caught. He watched, attentively, as Thor placed his arms firmly on your waist and couldn’t stifle a jealous, burning feeling.

Steve had purposely ignored you all night. His reasoning behind his actions was that he didn’t feel much of a connection anymore - you barely spent any time with each other.

Most nights, you would be up working late on some assignment Fury had set you. Therefore, the two of you hadn’t had any alone time. Steve longed for you to spend more time with him but, when he confronted you, you had said that you were too busy and that all this time you had spent away would ‘only be temporary’.

However, this had gone on for almost a month now and he was sick of it. He wanted some kind of reaction out of you - even for a jealous, angry one. And so, he spent the night around other women mostly so that you would confront him but also because he craved attention which these women so gratefully gave him.

You were unaware off all of this, still thinking you hadn’t done anything wrong. And, in all honestly, you had only been doing your job - nothing as bad as what Steve was doing now.

Steve now felt that his plan had backfired; instead of causing a reaction out of you, he thought he had driven you away to the arms of another man. Thor.

His piercing blue eyes stared through you and Thor, his senses surrounded by envy. A dark sensation absorbed into his mind and heart, watching how you laughed with fondness at Thor’s words. Dark thoughts ceaselessly ran through his mind as to how he would approach you after the party. He waited with impatience for the rest of the night, continuing to watch you and Thor.

You carried on swaying to the beat, accompanied by Thor, utterly oblivious to Steve’s eyes on you. The night, surprisingly, grew better with Thor beside you. For a short few minutes, Steve was lost through your mind - your problems and worries lost with him.

At last, however, the night had to end. People began to leave, steadily. At this sudden departure, you and Thor returned to the bar to have another drink as you waited for everyone to leave.

Moments later, heavy footsteps could be heard from behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, too invested in your pleasant convocation with Thor.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Thor to look up to the man behind you. His eyes hardened as the previous smile on his lips disappeared.

Turning around in confusion, you were faced with the harsh features of the one and only Steven Rogers. Mentally, you cursed him and sent a cold glare towards him.

“It’s late, we should head back to our room,” he stated, sending a quick scowl at Thor.

Surprise was visual on your features since he actually came over to talk to you. It made your glare soften a bit and, as much as you wished to stay with Thor, you had to admit that it was pretty late; you already had an even longer night ahead of you if you were going to confront Steve.

“Fine,” you returned, turning to give Thor a small smile. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Thor.”

“You’re very welcome, my lady,” he returned the smile.

You leaned towards him, giving him a quick embrace. It was much quicker than you had intended because of the fact that Steve grabbed ahold of the back of your dress and tugged you back, placing an arm around your waist possessively. You felt uncomfortable at his action, trying to create some distance between the two of you but he wouldn’t release you, only gripping harder.

“Goodnight, Thor,” he sneered, pulling you away from Thor and towards the elevator.

As you left, you turned slightly to wave goodbye to Thor. He returned the gesture, a sympathetic smile on his face.

Entering the elevator, Steve forcefully pressed the button to your floor and was about to turn to you but was interrupted by some guests entering behind. Instead, he took a step back to pretend he was making more space but purposely moved behind you as an act of intimidation; he pressed his chest firmly against your back and placed a gripping hand on your hip.

You swallowed, hard, anxious as to how this confrontation was going to go. You were beginning to like Steve better when he didn’t acknowledge you at all.

After reaching your floor, Steve swiftly pulled you out of the lift. Your high-heeled feet could barely keep up with him as he strode down the corridor to your shared space.

He stopped abruptly when he reached the front door, letting go of you as he fumbled with the keys. Once he unlocked the door, he swung it open with so much force that you flinched and proceeded to press you into the room, slamming the door behind himself.

You turned around, slowly, to face him. Your nerves were all over the pace - not sure whether you should bring up the issue or wait for him to say something.

Reluctantly, your conscious got the best of you, “Steve, I think we need to talk.”

“You’re damn right we need to talk!” he snapped, stalking towards you. You stepped back, in reflex. “Do you think that you can get all cozy with Thor and that I’ll just sit around and watch? Well, you’ve got that wrong, doll face,” he continued, sinisterly.

Shock hit you, you couldn’t believe what he was accusing you of.

“‘Getting cozy?!’” you demanded, stepping toward. “You can talk, Steven! The entire party could see you doing the same thing with basically EVERY woman there!”

“I’m surprised you noticed that - I thought you were too busy gazing into Thor’s eyes,” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, Steve, you do not get to attack me for spending time with Thor when you were flirting with about 10 women every minute!” you yelled.

“At least those other women actually gave me some attention! Unlike my own girlfriend who I barely even see anymore,” he came back.

“Oh god, Steve, are you seriously going to bring up my work again? Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been busy lately but that doesn’t give you the right to hit on other women,” you put your face in your hands, rubbing your temples.

“If you were really sorry then you’d make an effort to be with me, Y/N,” he lectured, a solemn expression plastered on his features.

“You want to talk about making an effort?!” you demanded, edging closer to him so that you were almost chest to chest. “I spent hours perfecting my hair and makeup for the party - all for you. I even bought a 40s-style dress which is very uncomfortable to wear - all for you, Steve. But I guess it was all for nothing because you barely looked at me the whole night and only spoke to me a couple of minutes ago. So please, tell me again that I haven’t made an effort!”

Steve was silent, staring straight through your soul, causing your mind to go blank. The silence was an uncomfortable, heart-stopping feeling.

Finally, he broke the silence, “trying to get on my good side for one night doesn’t excuse the fact that you’ve been abandoning me for the past month.”

“Wha-abandoning you? You’re not an child, Steve, you’re a grown-ass man! Anyway, I still come home every night after work and try to spend as much time with you as I can,” you argued.

“Ha, as much as you can,” he repeated, “is that why you spent all night with Thor?”

Your chest now heaved with anger, as Steve extended the distance between you and began pacing back and forth.

“For half the night I was with Nat and Wanda but you wouldn’t know that since you were too busy making your way around every woman in sight! Then, I spent the remainder of the night with Thor because he was a gentleman and noticed I was feeling upset since my boyfriend was neglecting me!” you yelled.

Steve reached one side of the room and slammed his fist into a mirror; glass shattered across the room, Steve’s hand dripping with blood. You flinched but Steve didn’t seem to react.

“Me neglecting you?!” he continued, dropping his arm to his side. “Oh no, doll face, don’t you try to be the victim here!” he returned, teeth gritted. “You’ve become such a self-centred bitch, never thinking about anyone but yourself!”

Your heart sunk at his words but you couldn’t let him see that they hurt you. Your hot-headedness got the best of you as you fought back, “How can you say that, Steve? I prioritised my time and workload just to come to this party for you and I dressed like this for you, too! I am anything but self-centred!”

“Enough about your outfit! I don’t care that you tried to impress me, alright? You don’t look half as good as Peggy did back in the 40s, anyway,” he seethed.

You felt a punch to the gut. Did he really just say that? You stood there, mouth agape, staring into his stern eyes.

“Excuse me?” you uttered, desperately hoping your voice wouldn’t falter.

“You heard what I said. You should stop trying, if that’s what you’re hoping to achieve. After all, you’ll never succeed what she meant to me,” his words stung like a knife through your heart.

Turning away, you left the room and went straight towards your wardrobe - beginning to pack your things.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Leaving.”

“Really?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Of course I fucking am! You have humiliated me in front of all of our friends, Steve, and now your telling me I’ll never be as good as your past girlfriend! I’d rather be a-anywhere but here now,” your voice finally broke.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “good riddance.”

You stuffed all you could find in a bag and threw it over your shoulder.

“Who are you and what the hell have you done to the man I love? What happened to the Steve I knew? The Steve I loved? You have humiliated me, countless times over the past months. In front of my friends, in front of the people I love. We’re done Steve,” you stated, glaring at him as you began to walk towards the exit.

“Fine by me!” he shouted, pacing back and forth.

You didn’t utter another word before swinging the door wildly and slamming it shut behind you, truly abandoning Steve this time.

As soon as the door closed behind her, it all fell apart. Every wall that Steve had been desperately trying to build the last few months came crashing down, burying him in their rubble. Steve sank to the ground with his head in his hands. What the fuck did he just do?

All the anger, the fury, the rage that had been in his heart for the last few months had disappeared, leaving him alone to face the real demons. The sadness, the pain, the loneliness hit him in the gut like a brick. He could physically feel what Y/N left of his heart break in his chest.

Y/N’s voice still echoed across the empty room. “Who are yo and what the hell have you done to the man I love? What happened to the Steve I knew? The Steve I loved? You have humiliated me, countless times over the past months. In front of my friends, in front of the people I love. We’re done Steve.” Loved. Past tense. She was right. God she was right. What kind of sorry excuse of a man has he become?

All of Steve’s renowned strength left him, and he slumped backwards until his head hit the ground. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the times he had shared with Y/N.

Their first kiss, their first date, their first time, their first heartbreak.

And as Steve Rogers laid there surrounded by the broken shards of glass that mirrored his heart, he realized something. The love of his life was gone. And he was never getting her back.

Time had moved on. Four months, to be exact. Time had passed but Steve’s feelings for you hadn’t. Every single day he regretted losing you but his loss turned him bitter, cold-hearted. His behaviour towards you was resentful and loathsome; he barely spoke a word to you but, when he did, he was utterly obnoxious.

He blamed you more than himself and turned some of your friends against you too. Sam was your best friend - the one you could turn to for everything no matter what. However, after seeing you dance with Thor that night and then discovering the next day that you and Steve had broken up, he put two and two together and spread a rumour that you had been cheating on Steve.

Steve never denied these claims and so many people believed them. He is greatly respected and well-known for being an heroic, honourable man therefore people began to turn against you. It never crossed their minds that he could have been the one to cause your relationship to end.

Over the past couple of months, you had grown much closer with Thor and became a couple. From this, the two of you received severe backlash from the team - they harassed you exponentially ever since.

No matter how much you pleaded with Sam to believe that you hadn’t cheated on Steve, he wouldn’t give in - he was completely convinced you had cheated on Steve. You weren’t surprised since you had grown so close with Thor after your break up. The only people who did believe you were Tony, Natasha and, of course, Thor. The others would harass you constantly while Steve would watch from aside, his deep blue eyes drilling into yours. But you never said a word to him.

The truth was, you still had feelings for him. Perhaps you even loved him. But you couldn’t tell anyone - you had no one to turn to. No one was close enough with you to either trust or feel comfortable with expressing these unwanted feelings to.

One night, when the team wouldn’t stop pestering you, Thor lost it and challenged anyone who would insult you or accuse you of anything again to a fight. Luckily, that shut everyone up and, for the remainder of the night, they left the issue unspoken any further.

When you and Thor returned to your room, that night, he started questioning you, interrogating you.

“Why don’t you talk to him? Yell at him? Do something?” he asked, his back facing you.

“Steve?” you asked, longing to avoid this conversation.

“Of course Steve!” Thor growled, turning to face you. His eyes were visibly glossy and your heart clenched. You didn’t want to hurt him. “Why do you sit there and let him feed the others with lies?”

“I-“ you faltered, not sure what to say.

Thor began to chuckle, lowly. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N. The fact that your not saying it makes me know it’s true,” he uttered.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Thor,” you lied.

“Don’t act innocent, Y/N, you know very well what I’m talking about,” he replied, another deep growl coming from his throat.

The two of you stood in silence, treasuring this unspoken moment. Holding it tightly.

Finally, Thor ripped it from your grasp: “You still love him, don’t you?”

At first you didn’t answer, opening your mouth and then closing it. Thor noticed this and chuckled again, this time his voice breaking.

“How-“ he started but paused to wipe his nose with a sniff, “how can you love a man that is so hateful towards you - so cruel - when you have me? Someone who loves you and who isn’t cruel, like he is.”

His words tugged at your heart strings. You stepped towards him and lay your hands on his shoulder.

“I love you Thor, I do. I just-it’s complicated with Steve. We have a long history together, y’know,” you smiled, sadly. “But I chose you. I love you.”

Thor reached up to hold your hands, pushing them off his shoulders. “But you love Steve more,” he muttered, pain apparent in his eyes.

“Thor, that’s not true-“ you stretched your hand up to cut his face but he brushed you off, walking past you.

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N.”

“Where are you going?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes now.

“I’m leaving. I don’t know where to but I have to have some time to myself. Just for a while,” he replied. A tear finally fell down your cheek. You couldn’t cope with losing him too.

“Please don’t go, Thor,” you pleaded.

After uttering those words, he said no more. Grabbing Mjölnir, he turned from you, opened the door and left without another glance.

But that was a month ago. You had, surprisingly, coped since then. You stuck by Tony and Natasha since they were the only people you had left.

Unsurprising, Thor’s departure caused you to undergo some more harassment from the team. But you were used to it by now, you weren’t fazed by it as much as before. After Thor left a part of you died - you realised just how lonely you were.

You didn’t know whether you and Thor weren’t together anymore or whether he just wanted some time temporarily apart but you didn’t want to take the risk and find someone else just to be called a cheater again/

One morning, while preparing yourself for the dreaded day ahead, a voice could be hear, making you jump slightly: “Miss Y/L/N, Mr Stark is requesting you join the meeting in the conference room, immediately,” came the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y echoing through your empty room.

Leaving your room grudgingly, you decided to take the elevator down to the conference room. After pressing the button, you waited impatiently as you stared at the screen showing the elevator dropping further to your floor. 7, 6, 5...finally it stopped on your floor.

The metal doors slowly slid opened to reveal, to your dismay, Sam Wilson. Your ex-best friend. As his eyes met yours, he rolled them, over-dramatically, and exhaled a deep frustrated sigh.

You hesitantly advanced into the elevator, turning to press the button for floor 2, however it already lit up.

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving back next to him. “Tony called you too, huh?” you wondered.

“Yep.”

You nodded in response, sadness hitting you at his curtness. Sam would either harass you consistently or barely say a word to you - there was no in between. Being alone with him made you feel extremely uncomfortable; you never knew what to expect with him, he might turn on you at any moment.

The meeting hadn’t even begun and you yearned for it to be finished already; you expected the whole team would be there and you weren’t in the mood for harassment this morning.

The elevator dinged and the doors proceeded to open. Stepping out, you felt relief at not being in an enclosed space next to Sam. However, after walking down the corridor and into the conference room an even more uncomfortable feeling hung on you. Steve and Wanda stared straight through you, as soon as you entered, while Rhodey glanced between them and you, rubbing his temples. Vision sat next to Wanda, nodding at you and Sam.

“Where’s Tony?” you asked, uncomfortable, and moved next to the chair next to Rhodey.

Silence hung in the room as Steve and Wanda wouldn’t answer you. Sam walked on the opposite side of you, sitting beside Steve. At this, Rhodey spoke instead. “You know him, he likes to make an entrance. I’m sure he’ll be here soon, kid.”

You nodded, placing yourself next to him and spinning in the chair impatiently. You felt Steve, Wanda and Sam’s eyes on you which made your heart race and head spin; sickness filled your stomach at the anxiety of what would happen next. Rhodey noticed their glares and groaned.

“Guys, could you quit it for once with the torment you give her?! I understand you’re still angry but we’re a team so get your shit together and stop it from interfering from everyday life! God dammit,” he cursed, exhaling deeply.

Their expressions softened and took their eyes off you. You turned to Rhodey and gave him a thankful smile. Ever since Sam spread the rumour, Rhodey was undecided on whether it was true or not but he knew it wasn’t right for you to be pestered by half the team every day.

Seconds later, Tony and Natasha walked in, accompanied by a tall, older man. It took you a few seconds to recognise him as the Secretary of State.

“Good morning, team, we have a visit from a certain someone,” Tony raised his eyebrows, mockingly. “He’s here t-” he continued but the man cut him off.

“Thank you, Stark, but I’ll take it from here,” he interrupted, motioning for Tony and Natasha to take a seat. They did, reluctantly.

For the next half-hour the secretary explained that the United Nations, along with many other countries, wanted the Avengers to sign some accords that stated they couldn’t travel into foreign countries without their permission. You thought this was fair, after all it wasn’t your place to barge onto other people’s property but at the same time you were annoyed that they blamed you all for destruction when you actually prevented it. Would they rather their countries have some damage to repair or the whole world to be wiped from existence?

Despite that, you knew it wasn’t right to argue with dozens of countries. After the secretary finished explaining, Tony agreed to signing it, expecting everyone else to. However, Steve spoke against him and argued that it was a bad idea. Secretary Ross attempted to convince Steve that he was making the wrong decision but Steve wouldn’t give in and it appeared Wanda and Sam wouldn’t either.

Later that day, after the Ross left, the team sat around the main room and discussed the accords.

“How can you sign that thing, Tony? You know it’s a bad idea. We saved all those people from more destruction!” Steve argued.

“As true as that is, Cap, we can’t go against the wishes of all those countries. I understand where you’re coming from bu-”

“If you understand us then you won’t sign those accords,” Sam inputted, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Do you hear yourselves? You’re so egotistical that you don’t listen to what all those governments have to say?” Rhodey sighed, shaking his head.

“I prefer to not stand around and watch those countries become overrun with operations like Hydra,” Sam eyed him up, judgingly.

“If you had signed the accords before Ultron, I wouldn’t have been saved. The world wouldn’t have been saved,” Wanda agreed.

“It’s not that we can’t go into those countries anymore and save them - just that we need permission first,” you spoke up, cautiously. “It seems fair to me.”

“Oh, you think something’s fair?” Sam chuckled but suddenly turned serious. “You think we give a shit what you think is fair?”

Steve laughed at his words, sending you a satisfied smirk. You shot a hard glare his way.

“We’re going a little off topic here, Wilson,” Tony warned.

“So what? It’s about time we brought it up again - don’t you think, Steve?” Sam glanced over at him.

Steve shrugged, “doesn’t look like she can handle much more of it,” he smirked. “She could snap at any moment, is that right, doll?” His mocking behaviour towards you made your stomach churn. You prayed that your mix of anger and embarrassment wasn’t evident. Sadly, the trio easily noticed the flushed colour of your cheeks.

“Oh, is someone embarrassed?” Steve sneered, causing you to blush harder.

“Where’s Thor to save you now, huh?” Sam chuckled. His words sent a knife to your heart.

“Should have thought about the consequences before you became a slut,” Wanda giggled.

“That’s enough!” Natasha spoke up. “I’m sick to death of you three harassing Y/N. This needs to stop if we’re gonna work together to figure this out as a team.”

“It doesn’t seem like we can be a team anymore,” Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Unless you refuse to sign.”

“Sorry, Rogers, but we are signing. You are too, you have to,” Tony interjected.

“Please, Steve,” Natasha softened her voice. “Like Y/N said, we’re not getting banned from entering those countries - we’re only asking for permission before entering. It’s only one more step.”

“It’s one more step which could determine life or death!” he argued. “I can’t sign it, you know I can’t.”

Silence filled the room. No one could agree and so no one wished to say another word on the subject.

Tony exhaled, deeply. “Fine. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s getting late and I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” With that, the matter was left unspoken for the remainder of the night. Unfortunately, the team never did never did agree to sign the accords and the Avengers split, breaking off into, what the world saw as, war criminals while the other half were left supervised by the United Nations at all times.

It’s been two years since the civil war. Two years since Steve left. Two years since you had seen him. For the past two years, you had stayed with Tony and Nat, wishing for Steve, wishing for Thor. Wishing for things you can’t have. And now, as you stood on the bloody fields of Wakanda, death approaching at any moment, they were all you could think about.

Y/N had been fighting for hours now. She didn’t know where her teammates were. She didn’t know who was winning this bloody, brutal battle. She didn’t know anything other than the power in her veins and the fierce flame in her heart that refused to be put out. Enemy after enemy went down by her hand, yet it was still not enough.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning flashed down from the heavens, illuminating the sky. Thor. He came back. Y/N could barely hold back her sobs of joy as she raced to where the flash had appeared. However, there were too many enemies blocking her way, and before she had the chance to look for blonde hair and a red cape, blood and death swallowed her again.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning flashed down from the heavens, illuminating the sky. Thor. He came back. Y/N could barely hold back her sobs of joy as she raced to where the flash had appeared. However, there were too many enemies blocking her way, and before she had the chance to look for blonde hair and a red cape, blood and death swallowed her again.

You watched in desperation as Thanos retrieved the glittering Mind Stone from Vision’s body, pushing Wanda aside as he completed his gauntlet.

Through your ringing ears, you heard a roar. Wait a minute, you knew that voice. Thor’s voice. “What have you done to her!?” He demanded, eyes sparkling when he saw your sprawled figure. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.” Replied Thanos. A bolt of lightning hit him and he stumbled backwards as Thor advanced on him. With a yell of rage, Thor embedded the axe in Thanos’ chest.

Thor slowly drove the blade in, wanting Thanos to feel every single bit of the same pain he had cause so many nations. “How does it feel now?” Snarled out Thor. His blood dripping onto the handle of the axe, Thanos raised his gauntlet covered hand.

“You should have gone for the head.” And than he snapped.

Bucky was the first to go, fading away as he turned to dust and you couldn’t watch as Steve rushed to where he was, clutching at the ashes that had already begun to scatter. Rhodey yelled Sam’s name, and you saw him fall to the ground as he too faded away. You heard Rocket cry out “no Groot no!” And turned to see Groot disappear as Rocket reached for him. Next to you, Okyoe watched in muted horror as T’Challa reached for her before turning to ash. Wanda was the only one who smiled when she left, knowing that she’ll join the love of her life, Vision, in the afterlife.

The numbness began in your chest and you could feel it slowly starting to spread throughout your body. You held up your hands, and you could see the edges of your fingertips become blurry. Thor let a choked sob, rushing to your side. “N-no! Not you, NOT YOU!”

You look at his handsome, bloodied face. “Shh... Thor, it’s alright.”

Thor’s tears dripped onto your face, mixing with your own tears as they dripped down your tears. “I love you.” He whispered.

You look beyond his shoulder and met Steve’s beautiful blue eyes, which were filled with tears and pure agony. “I love you too.” You say.

As you fade away, you swear you saw him mouth it back.

Thanks for reading! And go check out @bxcksdoll’s writing, she’s amaaazing!!

Taglist: @xxstarwalker @bxcksdoll @phanoffandoms67 @waiting-for-motivation @bluediamondsevie @antisocial-koala @spider-writer @randomavengersquotes @odinson-barnes @bonemarroww @kybaeza @straightouttaneptune @thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @glitterquadricorn @zselenophile @mrspeacem1nusone @marvellouslyaveragesblog @silencedbycritics @multifxndom-spidxrling @you-like-this-chain @colored-confetti @capstopavenger @rtaysperlz @lovesdarkness

If you want to be added on the taglist, message me or leave a comment below!! :)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Six

Bucky walks into the shop quietly, watching you set up a new display in the window. Some seasonally appropriate artwork. Paintings and hand made pots. Books on how to do those things. Antique books from the 40′s it looks like. He’s afraid to disturb you. Afraid to ruin whatever fragile peace of mind you might be finding doing this.

You look like you did in Elementary school when the teacher handed you your worksheet. Content. Focused. To be honest, he’s a little surprised he didn’t recognize you. But then, you had glasses now. And your hair was darker. He just lets you have this for a second. Lets himself have this. “I’ll be with you in just one second,” you say, reaching up to adjust a book so it sits just so on your display.

“Take your time, Doll,” Bucky says softly.

“Bucky,” you say turning around, startled. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, about to say something and Bucky can’t help it. He just can’t.

He crosses the floor to you and cradles you against him gently, one hand tangling in your hair and the other hovering on the small of your back. First feathering a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and then your lips.

He has to do this. He has to kiss you the way you should be kissed. Not some sloppy drunk mess that leaves you wanting. The way your first kiss had been.

When you didn't pull away and slap him, he presses a little harder, nipping your lip gently to open your mouth and brush his tongue against yours in a soft caress. It takes serious discipline not to pick you up and set you on the counter. Not to throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and carry you off to claim you on the first soft surface he can find. He hadn’t planned this. But when you pull away, looking up at him blushing and surprised, he can’t say he minds.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping some of your smudged lip color with his thumb, “I’m a sucker for red lipstick.”

“I- what about- I mean that woman- what’s going on?” you say, confused. Dazed. It’s been an emotionally trying few days. Weeks. Okay, really, you think, it’s been years but whose counting. And now Bucky Fucking Barnes of all people is kissing you. And looking at you like he loves you. And he’s sober. 

“Look, Y/N,” Bucky said blushing, “Char and I aren’t- I mean. She’s my fuck buddy. We’re not dating. Never were. And I just... If that kid is mine we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I doubt it is. Or that she’s even really pregnant given that I just found some dude balls deep in her, unwrapped... I’m sorry.”

He brushes hair behind your ear tenderly and takes a deep breath.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been half in love with you. I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole. That I hurt you this bad. That I had to act all hard instead of just admitting that I love you because loving you would mean I was... I dunno. A whimp or something.”

You look away and he tilts your chin up, “I know 20 years is a long time to be stupid but, baby, please. All I need is one chance.”

“But- Kaity,” you protest.

“Kaity walked into my shop at 9am and informed me I better get my shit together because she has two months to live and no fear of jail,” Bucky snorted fondly. 

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth to try and stifle a giggle in spite of yourself. In spite of being about to cry.

Bucky pulls you close slowly and kisses the top of your head, “Just one chance,” he pleaded, kissing your nose again when you look up at him. 

“One,” you allow, exhaling slowly. “But only if you kiss me again.”

He needs no second order. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs against your lips, claiming the second kiss he’d been waiting for for years. Relishing the feel of your arms winding around him and the feel of you pulling him closer. A silent request for just a little more. There are desperation and longing. in the way you touch him. A need Bucky understands. A need to be distracted. To drown out all the demons screaming in his head. He’s happy to oblige, to give you that moment.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asks, a little breathless when he comes up for air.

“I can’t,” you murmur, “Hospice is coming to get set up tonight. We’re moving a couple rooms around.” You swallow hard and Bucky feels his heart drop.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “Is there anything I can do?”

You shake your head, “I just really need a nap. Maybe a cookie. But I’ll be okay.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well I can get you both those things, doll.”

You smile a little, “I can’t sleep. I haven’t really been able to since I moved home... Any time I start to sleep too well I jerk back awake. Afraid- afraid something might happen and I won’t wake up.”

“Even here if I tuck you in on the couch?” he asked, concerned. 

You nod, “I freak out because I might not hear my phone.”

“I can feed you a cookie,” he coaxes, “Get you a coffee too. Some soup. Anything you want. I’ll run the front and you just go lie down for a little bit. Even if you don’t sleep. Read a book. Look up someplace we can go paint a plate or something... just rest a little.”

“But-”

“Go on,” he said shooing you gently, “I’ll put the order in. I can handle this for you. You need to rest. Kaity is gonna need you well-rested, isn’t she?” 

“My bank card is-”

“No,” Bucky said, letting a little of his Sargeant's voice creep in. Not a lot, but enough to make you stop. Just stop and let him do this. Let him give you some comfort. A little TLC. “I told you to go lay down,” he murmured softly, “I don’t want your card. I want you to do what I said, understand, baby girl? I only get one shot. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He kisses your nose again tenderly and gently turns you towards the back, calling the cafe next door to order you soup, a cookie, and a hot chocolate and a sandwich. You need fuel and you need rest. Maybe if he can get you cozy for a while he can give you that. He can watch the shop and listen to your phone for a few hours if it means you get some sleep.

When food arrives, you're on the velvet fainting couch, covered up in a throw blanket. Still awake. Very much away looking anxious and pale, shivering. Bucky feels a stab of pain for you and carries things back gently, “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained, setting food out. A grilled cheese, some tomato soup, the biggest cookie he could order, and a hot chocolate. “And it’s fucking miserable outside, thought this might help.”

You put up the cup of hot chocolate and Bucky notices your hands trembling. “Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip.

Bucky takes a bite of his own sandwich and nods. For the next 20 or so minutes, there’s not a lot of talking as you’re eating. Bucky is subtly pushing as much on you as he can, figuring a full stomach will put you to sleep for a while. He’s not disappointed when you protest that you can’t eat anymore, he just kisses the side of your head and tucks your blanket around you more firmly, trusting some warm soup and the shitty weather to knock you out. Hell, it usually knocked him out. 

He sits with you for a while, idly rubbing the little bare feet in his lap, half-listening to the front of the shop in case someone walks in, half-listening for your breathing to indicate sleep. Once you doze off, he tucks your feet in gently and pads his way to the front of the shop to sit and wait. It’s a nice few hours, watching the snow and ringing a few people out. Carefully wrapping a piece of artwork for a customer. Playing games on his phone. 

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind being bored. Or sober. It’s for a good cause, he decides. And he hates the idea that he could kiss you and not remember it. Not when the way you responded to him was just so pretty. At closing time, when you come back up front, rosy-cheeked with sleep and rubbing your eyes, glasses in hand, he smiles softly.

“Good sleep?” he asked, pulling you onto his knee while you get your bearings.

You yawn, nodding and he rubs your stomach affectionately, “Warm soup belly,” he explained, “works every time. Not sure why it works but a warm, full belly will knock out insomnia pretty well.”

You make a soft sleepy noise and stretch, slowly remembering how to wake up, “I’ll defer to your expertise. I don’t think I ever sleep that good,” you tell him.

He tuts softly, “Well,” he said, “I got a few other remedies if you ever need me to knock you out again.” 

“Oh?” you ask putting your glasses on.

“They’re just not things you do with clothes on, doll,” he teased.

You blush and turn to lock down the register and put money in the bank bag. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“Y/N,” Bucky murmured, “Have you not ever?”

You shake your head, “I didn’t want anyone to see me,” you murmured, “I scarred myself up pretty bad over the years. I just. I dunno. After the first guy I dated freaked out about my wrists I just couldn’t.”

“I’ve seen your wrists,” he reminded gently, wrapping his arms around you gently and kissing your shoulder, “And I run around with bikers. Scars don’t scare me, baby. Not even the scary ones.”

You nod and take a shaky breath, “No,” he said softly, “There’s no pressure. Not one bit. Okay? I’m not gonna lie to you. I’d love to take you home, right now, and love you until you can’t walk. But this isn’t about me, okay?”

When you’re quiet, he tilts your chin up gently, “Okay, baby girl?” he presses gently. “Okay,” you answer quietly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, watching you get everything ready to go and closing down before walking you patiently to your car.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently kissing your hand, dimly aware that he’s used more pet names for you in a few hours than he’s ever used for anyone, “you need anything, you call me? Okay? I don’t care what it is.”

“What if I just want you to bring me a teddy bear?” you say, smiling a little.

“Anything,” he repeats gently, “I’m gonna take care of my girl, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” you tell him softly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Put the others in your phone too okay? If you can’t get a hold of me I want you to be able to get someone. They’ll find me.”

You nod and he shuts your car door firmly, stepping back so you can pull out of your space and avoid his toes. He waves as you drive away and watches you stop at the light. It’s still snowing and he makes a note to make sure he cleans your side walk and his mom’s tomorrow. You have enough issues without worrying about that. 

________

By the time you get home, Kaity is installed in her hospital bed and you come to sit with her, snuggling close and tucking a comforter around you both.

“I can’t believe you threatened to fucking shoot her,” you scold, “Or that Aunt Judy fucking told on me. THEN LET YOU DO IT!”

Kaity shrugged, pushing play on the remote. “You’re our baby,” Kaity said snuggling you and coaxing Salem closer. “Mama didn’t just take you in for fun, She loves you. And you’re my doll baby, remember?”

“You never let me forget it,” you murmur, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“You were so tiny when they brought you home,” she said, “I asked daddy if you needed batteries. You didn’t even look real.” She smiles, “I called you Dolly forever.”

“You still do sometimes, Cat-cat,” you tell her, adjusting yourself to sit cross-legged and start trimming her nails.

“You only call me Cat- cat anymore when you don’t want me to worry,” she said suspiciously, “What else happened today?”

“Nothing,” you tell her, keeping your eyes down, focused on your nails.

“So why’d Nat text me and tell me that Bucky was watching the shop for you?” she pressed.

“Because he brought me lunch and I fell asleep on the couch in the back,” you answer, keeping your voice as level as possible. 

“If that’s all that happened why’d Bucky tell Nat he kissed you?” she said, chucking you under the chin with her free hand. 

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you tell her, looking down again and adjusting your glasses before starting work on her other hand.

“Y/N,” she said softly, “The only thing I want is for you not to be alone.”

“I'm okay on my own, Kaity,” you murmur.

“But you deserve so much more, Dolly,” she said softly. “You’re magic and champagne at midnight. Why are you settling for warm Natty light and a hot dog?”

“I’m just some trailer trash that can paint, Kaity. That’s all. I don’t have to take up space to do that.”

“Bucky doesn’t think so. I don’t think so. Mama and Daddy don’t think so. Grandma didn’t either. Bubbles, please,” Kaity said taking a deep breath, “I already talked about it with Mama and Daddy. I want to leave you the Shop. And Grandma’s house, since she wanted it to go to the oldest and that won’t be me anymore. Do me one favor?”

You take a deep breath and nod. You don’t want to talk about this but the hospital bed and the Hospice Nurse coming in in the morning made it impossible. 

“Take care of mama and daddy for me?” she said softly, “Make sure they don’t follow me too fast.”

You wipe away tears for her gently and nod, making her smile a little, “At least I know they’ll have you. That the shop’s in good hands. Even if you are a shit and won’t let me pay you.”

“I don’t need much Kaity. Just a place to sleep and some cat food.”

“And a biker to keep you warm,” Kaity teased, making your cheeks color.

“No,” Kaity said giggling, “It’s great. One of us needs to get laid soon or it won’t be the cancer that kills me. It’ll be all the fucking sexual frustration. Was he at least a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, cheeks burning, making Kaity laugh.

“Whatever it is,” Aunt Judy said backing through the door, “I don’t want to know.”

She took a seat in a chair and arranged a dinner tray for Kaity, kissing you both fondly on the head, taking in your blushing cheeks, “I definitely don’t want to know.”

Tags: @lancsnerd @stevieang @etherealwaifgoddess @blameitonthecauseway @thorfanficwriter

[drunkisabelle]

Isabelle Watch - Day 40:

  This wasn't Mama's first time working her way through a court ordered community service. It was only last month she had to paint old people's fences for a week after she'd drunkenly tried to drive a stolen empty school bus into the Burger King drive-through.  And shortly before that she was ordered to pick up roadside litter for two weeks after being caught on CCTV making out with a statue of Thomas Jefferson, then pissing down its leg for giving her the cold shoulder. 

  She was an old hat with this shit, and pretty much on first name terms with the local judge due to all her inebriated misdemeanours, but when she was told she was being sent to attend group sessions to talk about her drunken behaviour along with other miscreants she panicked. 

  It was all well and good speaking to people all day in Residential Services. She was usually well oiled on vodka and enjoyed crushing people's hearts with really shit island evaluations, but here she'd have to be open, honest and god forbid, sober. 

  Isabelle sat in horrified silence as people around her chatted about their experiences. She knew as she sipped on her piss-poor coffee that she needed to break the ice somehow if she was going to fit in with this group of miserable strangers. Then it came to her; She'd break the ice with a joke. 

  Inspiration came when a small Hamster fellow across the room called Rodney started talking about trying to find drinking alternatives. 

  "I've tried a few things that haven't worked, so now I've been dabbling with non-alcoholic beers to see if that helps ease the crav-" 

  Isabelle interrupted, "-NON-ALCOHOLIC BEER EH? HAHA, THAT'S LIKE GOING DOWN ON YOUR GODDAMNED COUSIN!!" 

  You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes in the room slowly turned to look at Izzy, 

  "Well I mean, it tastes the same but you still know it's fucking wrong.."

  Everyone left shortly after with very little fuss, the Group Councillor asking Isabelle to hang back at the end to quietly tell her that it was probably best she didn't attend any further meetings here, and that he would just tell the court she was present even though she wasn't. 

  Fucking delighted. That was two hours each Tuesday she could tell Nook that she was away for her meeting, when really she planned to get shit-faced, dress up like a chicken and go throw some fists at the local underground Cock-Fighting ring. 

[bxcksdoll]

You’re mine, forever and always

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader, Thor x reader

Summary: Y/N breaks up with Steve around the time of Age of Ultron because he’s constantly neglecting her. She becomes much closer with Thor while Steve watches from afar, regretful of losing the love of his life. When he goes back in time to deliver the infinity stones to where they belong, he decides to give past! Y/N a visit...

Warnings: starts off noncon, dark!steve, abusive, harassment, blood

A/N: i had this fic idea and decided to collab with @xmarveled bc she’s my main girl❤️ and then @darkficsyouneveraskedfor announced they were doing a writing challenge so we decided to input this!!

To say you were feeling lonely was an understatement - you preferred to think of it as utterly and miserably neglected by the man who held your wholesome, lovesick heart in his hands. For the past couple of weeks, you had felt increasingly distant from your boyfriend, Steve Rogers. Tonight wasn’t any different. However, tonight was even worse.

Tony was hosting one of his prominent parties which consisted of other celebrities, journalists, government personnel and, of course, Avengers. As you glanced around the room, Steve could be seen chatting with overly glamorous women, at almost every minute of the night; this made you sick to your stomach, ashamed and disappointed that he was the man you called your boyfriend.

The night had started off well - or so you had thought. Before everyone began to arrive, a sense of hope soared through you that you and Steve would resolve whatever had affected your relationship, lately. You had no idea, yourself, why Steve had been distant but you were too scared to ask incase it would start an argument and he would leave you.

However, now seeing him throw himself at these women made you question your previous restrain on the topic. After this party, you knew you had to confront him, he couldn’t expect you to stay with him after obviously neglecting you and going for other women.

A pang if sadness hit your chest and made your stomach fall to the floor. You recalled how you felt a couple of hours ago: you spent hours choosing your dress, styling your hair and doing your makeup. You made sure to pick more of a 40s-style dress in the high hopes that Steve would notice and praise you for it. However, it was clear to you now that he didn’t care how much effort you had put in.

After you dressed yourself up, you strutted down to the party. To your luck, you had received many numbers of compliments and stares from people around the room. However, none from Steve. He spotted you as you walked in from across the room, gave a tight smile but then carried on with his convocation with Bucky and some women (who were clearly all models).

This neglectful greeting sank your heart to the ground floor, your breath left your body in disbelief. Quickly, you regained yourself and made sure no one noticed the glossy way that your eyes sparkled more than usual. For most of the night, you had stayed by Natasha and Wanda, unable to bring yourself to face your boyfriend. You had nothing to say to him and he, clearly, felt the same.

As the end of the party neared, Natasha had been whisked away by some government worker who she was trying to get information from whilst Wanda left with Vision to have some privacy on the balcony.

You sat alone and distraught, at the bar, sipping on a drink which you didn’t even remember ordering - you were too focused on Steve to remember even asking. The way his eyes crinkled with laughter when one of the many women would say something funny - the same way he used to laugh at your jokes - or the way he would subtly lay a hand on one of the women’s arm in the same way he did with you.

The only thing stopping you from marching straight over there and picking a fight right there was your knowledge of how many journalists there were at the party. You couldn’t cause a scene without it being big news headlines the next day. So, instead, you sat alone at the side of the bar, staring ahead at Steve and the cluster of women around him.

Slowly, a figure began to sit down next to you but you didn’t notice. The voice of a man could be heard but your brain couldn’t fully process it. Finally, a hand rested on your arm and you turned to your right to look away from Steve and at the god beside you.

“Good evening, Lady Y/N,” Thor’s soft voice calmed your nerves slightly. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concern laced in his voice as he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah-yeah I’m fine,” you lied, twirling your drink between your fingers.

“Hmm, are you positive, my lady? I think you’re lying.”

“I’m fine, Thor. Why are you so concerned anyway?” you snapped, taking your anger out on him.

Thor put his hands up in defence, “I’m sorry. I was just concerned about you sitting here all alone.” His words warmed your heart and you felt a pang of guilt at losing your temper with him.

“Thank you, Thor, but I want to be alone,” you turned your face from his, back over to wear Steve stood.

“I think you’re lying again, Lady Y/N. It seems to me you’d rather be over yonder with Steve,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you join him?”

You turned to him, eyes filled with pain staring into his. “Is that some sort of joke?!” you demanded. “You must have seen him hitting on other girls all night - I can’t face him!”

Realisation hit Thor as his eyebrows grew heavy, staring harshly over at your boyfriend. “Oh, I never noticed. I guess I’ve been too focused on you and thinking of ways to cheer you up,” he gave a sad smile.

He carried on talking but you couldn’t hear him, you were too busy with your eyes on Steve. This time, the super soldier was whispering something in a woman’s ear, teasing her as she giggled in response.

Your fingernails dug harshly into your palms as the muscles in your arms clenched. A feeling of disgust washed over you, everything but Steve disappearing around you.

How could he act like this? He was the sweetest man you knew - this wasn’t like him at all. What had happened between the two of you?

You felt, what was left of, your heart beat faster in your chest. Your hands began to shake - out of fury or sorrow you couldn’t tell. Thor noticed your distress and, once again, placed his hand on your arm to stop you from shaking so much.

Light entered back in the room at his touch, you turned towards him and tried to muster a smile, with all the strength in your trembling lips. Thor rubbed up and down your arm, in a comforting fashion, and you leaned closer to him.

“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up, my lady?” Thor asked, hopefully.

You sniffed a little, wiping your eyes. “I’m not sure anything will cheer me up, Thor,” you replied, melancholy eyes staring into his which were full of pity.

“How about a dance?” he suggested and you perked up a bit.

Laughing quietly, you accepted his offer and his face lit up with enthusiasm. Thor always knew how to make you feel better at the worst of times.

He stood up, without a second thought, holding out his hand for you. You took it it, willingly, and he escorted you to the dance floor where a few other couples were dancing - including Tony and Pepper.

As the two of you reached the dance floor, Thor cautiously placed his hands on your waist and you slung your own around the back of his neck. You both began to sway, slowly to the music echoing through the party.

For ages, you danced together. Thor was extremely fun to talk to and he was especially good at keeping you distracted from Steve. Since he had asked you to dance, you hadn’t even glanced at your boyfriend; you figured that he hadn’t looked your way either. However, you didn’t know how wrong you were. Ever since you stepped onto the dance floor, Steve’s attention was caught. He watched, attentively, as Thor placed his arms firmly on your waist and couldn’t stifle a jealous, burning feeling.

Steve had purposely ignored you all night. His reasoning behind his actions was that he didn’t feel much of a connection anymore - you barely spent any time with each other.

Most nights, you would be up working late on some assignment Fury had set you. Therefore, the two of you hadn’t had any alone time. Steve longed for you to spend more time with him but, when he confronted you, you had said that you were too busy and that all this time you had spent away would ‘only be temporary’.

However, this had gone on for almost a month now and he was sick of it. He wanted some kind of reaction out of you - even for a jealous, angry one. And so, he spent the night around other women mostly so that you would confront him but also because he craved attention which these women so gratefully gave him.

You were unaware off all of this, still thinking you hadn’t done anything wrong. And, in all honestly, you had only been doing your job - nothing as bad as what Steve was doing now.

Steve now felt that his plan had backfired; instead of causing a reaction out of you, he thought he had driven you away to the arms of another man. Thor.

His piercing blue eyes stared through you and Thor, his senses surrounded by envy. A dark sensation absorbed into his mind and heart, watching how you laughed with fondness at Thor’s words. Dark thoughts ceaselessly ran through his mind as to how he would approach you after the party. He waited with impatience for the rest of the night, continuing to watch you and Thor.

You carried on swaying to the beat, accompanied by Thor, utterly oblivious to Steve’s eyes on you. The night, surprisingly, grew better with Thor beside you. For a short few minutes, Steve was lost through your mind - your problems and worries lost with him.

At last, however, the night had to end. People began to leave, steadily. At this sudden departure, you and Thor returned to the bar to have another drink as you waited for everyone to leave.

Moments later, heavy footsteps could be heard from behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, too invested in your pleasant heart to heart with Thor.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Thor to look up to the man behind you. His eyes hardened as the previous smile on his lips disappeared.

Turning around in confusion, you were faced with the harsh features of the one and only Steven Rogers. Mentally, you cursed him and sent a cold glare towards him.

“It’s late, we should head back to our room,” he stated, sending a quick scowl at Thor.

Surprise was visual on your features since he actually came over to talk to you. It made your glare soften a bit and, as much as you wished to stay with Thor, you had to admit that it was pretty late; you already had an even longer night ahead of you if you were going to confront Steve.

“Fine,” you returned, turning to give Thor a small smile. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Thor.”

“You’re very welcome, my lady,” he returned the smile.

You leaned towards him, giving him a quick embrace. It was much quicker than you had intended because of the fact that Steve grabbed ahold of the back of your dress and tugged you back, placing an arm around your waist possessively. You felt uncomfortable at his action, trying to create some distance between the two of you but he wouldn’t release you, only gripping harder.

“Goodnight, Thor,” he sneered, pulling you away from Thor and towards the elevator.

As you left, you turned slightly to wave goodbye to Thor. He returned the gesture, a sympathetic smile on his face.

Entering the elevator, Steve forcefully pressed the button to your floor and was about to turn to you but was interrupted by some guests entering behind. Instead, he took a step back to pretend he was making more space but purposely moved behind you as an act of intimidation; he pressed his chest firmly against your back and placed a gripping hand on your hip.

You swallowed, hard, anxious as to how this confrontation was going to go. You were beginning to like Steve better when he didn’t acknowledge you at all.

After reaching your floor, Steve swiftly pulled you out of the lift. Your high-heeled feet could barely keep up with him as he strode down the corridor to your shared space.

He stopped abruptly when he reached the front door, letting go of you as he fumbled with the keys. Once he unlocked the door, he swung it open with so much force that you flinched and proceeded to press you into the room, slamming the door behind himself.

You turned around, slowly, to face him. Your nerves were all over the pace - not sure whether you should bring up the issue or wait for him to say something.

Reluctantly, your conscious got the best of you, “Steve, I think we need to talk.”

“You’re damn right we need to talk!” he snapped, stalking towards you. You stepped back, in reflex. “Do you think that you can get all cozy with Thor and that I’ll just sit around and watch? Well, you’ve got that wrong, doll face,” he continued, sinisterly.

Shock hit you, you couldn’t believe what he was accusing you of.

“‘Getting cozy?!’” you demanded, stepping toward. “You can talk, Steven! The entire party could see you doing the same thing with basically EVERY woman there!”

“I’m surprised you noticed that - I thought you were too busy gazing into Thor’s eyes,” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, Steve, you do not get to attack me for spending time with Thor when you were flirting with about 10 women every minute!” you yelled.

“At least those other women actually gave me some attention! Unlike my own girlfriend who I barely even see anymore,” he came back.

“Oh god, Steve, are you seriously going to bring up my work again? Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been busy lately but that doesn’t give you the right to hit on other women,” you put your face in your hands, rubbing your temples.

“If you were really sorry then you’d make an effort to be with me, Y/N,” he lectured, a solemn expression plastered on his features.

“You want to talk about making an effort?!” you demanded, edging closer to him so that you were almost chest to chest. “I spent hours perfecting my hair and makeup for the party - all for you. I even bought a 40s-style dress which is very uncomfortable to wear - all for you, Steve. But I guess it was all for nothing because you barely looked at me the whole night and only spoke to me a couple of minutes ago. So please, tell me again that I haven’t made an effort!”

Steve was silent, staring straight through your soul, causing your mind to go blank. The silence was an uncomfortable, heart-stopping feeling.

Finally, he broke the silence, “trying to get on my good side for one night doesn’t excuse the fact that you’ve been abandoning me for the past month.”

“Wha-abandoning you? You’re not an child, Steve, you’re a grown-ass man! Anyway, I still come home every night after work and try to spend as much time with you as I can,” you argued.

“Ha, as much as you can,” he repeated, “is that why you spent all night with Thor?”

Your chest now heaved with anger, as Steve extended the distance between you and began pacing back and forth.

“For half the night I was with Nat and Wanda but you wouldn’t know that since you were too busy making your way around every woman in sight! Then, I spent the remainder of the night with Thor because he was a gentleman and noticed I was feeling upset since my boyfriend was neglecting me!” you yelled.

Steve reached one side of the room and slammed his fist into a mirror; glass shattered across the room, Steve’s hand dripping with blood. You flinched but Steve didn’t seem to react.

“Me neglecting you?!” he continued, dropping his arm to his side. “Oh no, doll face, don’t you try to be the victim here!” he returned, teeth gritted. “You’ve become such a self-centred bitch, never thinking about anyone but yourself!”

Your heart sunk at his words but you couldn’t let him see that they hurt you. Your hot-headedness got the best of you as you fought back, “How can you say that, Steve? I prioritised my time and workload just to come to this party for you and I dressed like this for you, too! I am anything but self-centred!”

“Enough about your outfit! I don’t care that you tried to impress me, alright? You don’t look half as good as Peggy did back in the 40s, anyway,” he seethed.

You felt a punch to the gut. Did he really just say that? You stood there, mouth agape, staring into his stern eyes.

“Excuse me?” you uttered, desperately hoping your voice wouldn’t falter.

“You heard what I said. You should stop trying, if that’s what you’re hoping to achieve. After all, you’ll never succeed what she meant to me,” his words stung like a knife through your heart.

Turning away, you left the room and went straight towards your wardrobe - beginning to pack your things.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Leaving.”

“Really?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Of course I fucking am! You have humiliated me in front of all of our friends, Steve, and now your telling me I’ll never be as good as your past girlfriend! I’d rather be a-anywhere but here now,” your voice finally broke.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “good riddens.”

You stuffed all you could find in a bag and threw it over your shoulder.

“Who are you and what the hell have you done to the man I love? What happened to the Steve I knew? The Steve I loved? You have humiliated me, countless times over the past months. In front of my friends, in front of the people I love. We’re done Steve,” you stated, glaring at him as you began to walk towards the exit.

“Fine by me!” he shouted, pacing back and forth.

You didn’t utter another word before swinging the door wildly and slamming it shut behind you, truly abandoning Steve this time.

As soon as the door closed behind her, it all fell apart. Every wall that Steve had been desperately trying to build the last few months came crashing down, burying him in their rubble. Steve sank to the ground with his head in his hands. What the fuck did he just do?

All the anger, the fury, the rage that had been in his heart for the last few months had disappeared, leaving him alone to face the real demons. The sadness, the pain, the loneliness hit him in the gut like a brick. He could physically feel what Y/N left of his heart break in his chest.

Y/N’s voice still echoed across the empty room. “Who are you and what the hell have you done to the man I love? What happened to the Steve I knew? The Steve I loved? You have humiliated me, countless times over the past months. In front of my friends, in front of the people I love. We’re done Steve.” Loved. Past tense. She was right. God she was right. What kind of sorry excuse of a man has he become?

All of Steve’s renowned strength left him, and he slumped backwards until his head hit the ground. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the times he had shared with Y/N.

Their first kiss, their first date, their first time, their first heartbreak.

And as Steve Rogers lay there surrounded by the broken shards of glass that mirrored his heart, he realized something. The love of his life was gone. And he was never getting her back.

Time had moved on. Four months, to be exact. Time had passed but Steve’s feelings for you hadn’t. Every single day he regretted losing you but his loss turned him bitter, cold-hearted. His behaviour towards you was resentful and loathsome; he barely spoke a word to you but, when he did, he was utterly obnoxious.

He blamed you more than himself and turned some of your friends against you too. Sam was your best friend - the one you could turn to for everything no matter what. However, after seeing you dance with Thor that night and then discovering the next day that you and Steve had broken up, he put two and two together and spread a rumour that you had been cheating on Steve.

Steve never denied these claims and so many people believed them. He is greatly respected and well-known for being an heroic, honourable man therefore people began to turn against you. It never crossed their minds that he could have been the one to cause your relationship to end.

Over the past couple of months, you had grown much closer with Thor and became a couple. From this, the two of you received severe backlash from the team - they harassed you exponentially ever since.

No matter how much you pleaded with Sam to believe that you hadn’t cheated on Steve, he wouldn’t give in - he was completely convinced you had cheated on Steve. You weren’t surprised since you had grown so close with Thor after your break up. The only people who did believe you were Tony, Natasha and, of course, Thor. The others would harass you constantly while Steve would watch from aside, his deep blue eyes drilling into yours. But you never said a word to him.

The truth was, you still had feelings for him. Perhaps you even loved him. But you couldn’t tell anyone - you had no one to turn to. No one was close enough with you to either trust or feel comfortable with expressing these unwanted feelings to.

One night, when the team wouldn’t stop pestering you, Thor lost it and challenged anyone who would insult you or accuse you of anything again to a fight. Luckily, that shut everyone up and, for the remainder of the night, they left the issue unspoken any further.

When you and Thor returned to your room, that night, he started questioning you, interrogating you.

“Why don’t you talk to him? Yell at him? Do something?” he asked, his back facing you.

“Steve?” you asked, longing to avoid this conversation.

“Of course Steve!” Thor growled, turning to face you. His eyes were visibly glossy and your heart clenched. You didn’t want to hurt him. “Why do you sit there and let him feed the others with lies?”

“I-“ you faltered, not sure what to say.

Thor began to chuckle, lowly. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N. The fact that your not saying it makes me know it’s true,” he uttered.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Thor,” you lied.

“Don’t act innocent, Y/N, you know very well what I’m talking about,” he replied, another deep growl coming from his throat.

The two of you stood in silence, treasuring this unspoken moment. Holding it tightly.

Finally, Thor ripped it from your grasp: “You still love him, don’t you?”

At first you didn’t answer, opening your mouth and then closing it. Thor noticed this and chuckled again, this time his voice breaking.

“How-“ he started but paused to wipe his nose with a sniff, “how can you love a man that is so hateful towards you - so cruel - when you have me? Someone who loves you and who isn’t cruel, like he is.”

His words tugged at your heart strings. You stepped towards him and lay your hands on his shoulder.

“I love you Thor, I do. I just-it’s complicated with Steve. We have a long history together, y’know,” you smiled, sadly. “But I chose you. I love you.”

Thor reached up to hold your hands, pushing them off his shoulders. “But you love Steve more,” he muttered, pain apparent in his eyes.

“Thor, that’s not true-“ you stretched your hand up to cut his face but he brushed you off, walking past you.

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N.”

“Where are you going?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes now.

“I’m leaving. I don’t know where to but I have to have some time to myself. Just for a while,” he replied. A tear finally fell down your cheek. You couldn’t cope with losing him too.

“Please don’t go, Thor,” you pleaded.

After uttering those words, he said no more. Grabbing Mjölnir, he turned from you, opened the door and left without another glance.

But that was a month ago. You had, surprisingly, coped since then. You stuck by Tony and Natasha since they were the only people you had left.

Unsurprising, Thor’s departure caused you to undergo some more harassment from the team. But you were used to it by now, you weren’t fazed by it as much as before. After Thor left a part of you died - you realised just how lonely you were.

You didn’t know whether you and Thor weren’t together anymore or whether he just wanted some time temporarily apart but you didn’t want to take the risk and find someone else just to be called a cheater again.

One morning, while preparing yourself for the dreaded day ahead, a voice could be hear, making you jump slightly: “Miss Y/L/N, Mr Stark is requesting you join the meeting in the conference room, immediately,” came the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y echoing through your empty room.

Leaving your room grudgingly, you decided to take the elevator down to the conference room. After pressing the button, you waited impatiently as you stared at the screen showing the elevator dropping further to your floor. 7, 6, 5...finally it stopped on your floor.

The metal doors slowly slid opened to reveal, to your dismay, Sam Wilson. Your ex-best friend. As his eyes met yours, he rolled them, over-dramatically, and exhaled a deep frustrated sigh.

You hesitantly advanced into the elevator, turning to press the button for floor 2, however it already lit up.

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving back next to him. “Tony called you too, huh?” you wondered.

“Yep.”

You nodded in response, sadness hitting you at his curtness. Sam would either harass you consistently or barely say a word to you - there was no in between. Being alone with him made you feel extremely uncomfortable; you never knew what to expect with him, he might turn on you at any moment.

The meeting hadn’t even begun and you yearned for it to be finished already; you expected the whole team would be there and you weren’t in the mood for harassment this morning.

The elevator dinged and the doors proceeded to open. Stepping out, you felt relief at not being in an enclosed space next to Sam. However, after walking down the corridor and into the conference room an even more uncomfortable feeling hung on you. Steve and Wanda stared straight through you, as soon as you entered, while Rhodey glanced between them and you, rubbing his temples. Vision sat next to Wanda, nodding at you and Sam.

“Where’s Tony?” you asked, uncomfortable, and moved next to the chair next to Rhodey.

Silence hung in the room as Steve and Wanda wouldn’t answer you. Sam walked on the opposite side of you, sitting beside Steve. At this, Rhodey spoke instead. “You know him, he likes to make an entrance. I’m sure he’ll be here soon, kid.”

You nodded, placing yourself next to him and spinning in the chair impatiently. You felt Steve, Wanda and Sam’s eyes on you which made your heart race and head spin; sickness filled your stomach at the anxiety of what would happen next. Rhodey noticed their glares and groaned.

“Guys, could you quit it for once with the torment you give her?! I understand you’re still angry but we’re a team so get your shit together and stop it from interfering from everyday life! God dammit,” he cursed, exhaling deeply.

Their expressions softened and took their eyes off you. You turned to Rhodey and gave him a thankful smile. Ever since Sam spread the rumour, Rhodey was undecided on whether it was true or not but he knew it wasn’t right for you to be pestered by half the team every day.

Seconds later, Tony and Natasha walked in, accompanied by a tall, older man. It took you a few seconds to recognise him as the Secretary of State.

“Good morning, team, we have a visit from a certain someone,” Tony raised his eyebrows, mockingly. “He’s here t-” he continued but the man cut him off.

“Thank you, Stark, but I’ll take it from here,” he interrupted, motioning for Tony and Natasha to take a seat. They did, reluctantly.

For the next half-hour the secretary explained that the United Nations, along with many other countries, wanted the Avengers to sign some accords that stated they couldn’t travel into foreign countries without their permission. You thought this was fair, after all it wasn’t your place to barge onto other people’s property but at the same time you were annoyed that they blamed you all for destruction when you actually prevented it. Would they rather their countries have some damage to repair or the whole world to be wiped from existence?

Despite that, you knew it wasn’t right to argue with dozens of countries. After the secretary finished explaining, Tony agreed to signing it, expecting everyone else to. However, Steve spoke against him and argued that it was a bad idea. Secretary Ross attempted to convince Steve that he was making the wrong decision but Steve wouldn’t give in and it appeared Wanda and Sam wouldn’t either.

Later that day, after the Ross left, the team sat around the main room and discussed the accords.

“How can you sign that thing, Tony? You know it’s a bad idea. We saved all those people from more destruction!” Steve argued.

“As true as that is, Cap, we can’t go against the wishes of all those countries. I understand where you’re coming from bu-”

“If you understand us then you won’t sign those accords,” Sam inputted, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Do you hear yourselves? You’re so egotistical that you don’t listen to what all those governments have to say?” Rhodey sighed, shaking his head.

“I prefer to not stand around and watch those countries become overrun with operations like Hydra,” Sam eyed him up, judgingly.

“If you had signed the accords before Ultron, I wouldn’t have been saved. The world wouldn’t have been saved,” Wanda agreed.

“It’s not that we can’t go into those countries anymore and save them - just that we need permission first,” you spoke up, cautiously. “It seems fair to me.”

“Oh, you think something’s fair?” Sam chuckled but suddenly turned serious. “You think we give a shit what you think is fair?”

Steve laughed at his words, sending you a satisfied smirk. You shot a hard glare his way.

“We’re going a little off topic here, Wilson,” Tony warned.

“So what? It’s about time we brought it up again - don’t you think, Steve?” Sam glanced over at him.

Steve shrugged, “doesn’t look like she can handle much more of it,” he smirked. “She could snap at any moment, is that right, doll?” His mocking behaviour towards you made your stomach churn. You prayed that your mix of anger and embarrassment wasn’t evident. Sadly, the trio easily noticed the flushed colour of your cheeks.

“Oh, is someone embarrassed?” Steve sneered, causing you to blush harder.

“Where’s Thor to save you now, huh?” Sam chuckled. His words sent a knife to your heart.

“Should have thought about the consequences before you became a slut,” Wanda giggled.

“That’s enough!” Natasha spoke up. “I’m sick to death of you three harassing Y/N. This needs to stop if we’re gonna work together to figure this out as a team.”

“It doesn’t seem like we can be a team anymore,” Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Unless you refuse to sign.”

“Sorry, Rogers, but we are signing. You are too, you have to,” Tony interjected.

“Please, Steve,” Natasha softened her voice. “Like Y/N said, we’re not getting banned from entering those countries - we’re only asking for permission before entering. It’s only one more step.”

“It’s one more step which could determine life or death!” he argued. “I can’t sign it, you know I can’t.”

Silence filled the room. No one could agree and so no one wished to say another word on the subject.

Tony exhaled, deeply. “Fine. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s getting late and I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” With that, the matter was left unspoken for the remainder of the night. Unfortunately, the team never did never did agree to sign the accords and the Avengers split, breaking off into, what the world saw as, war criminals while the other half were left supervised by the United Nations at all times.

It’s been two years since the civil war. Two years since Steve left. Two years since you had seen him. For the past two years, you had stayed with Tony and Nat, wishing for Steve, wishing for Thor. Wishing for things you can’t have. And now, as you stood on the bloody fields of Wakanda, death approaching at any moment, they were all you could think about.

You had been fighting for hours now. You didn’t know where her teammates were. You didn’t know who was winning this bloody, brutal battle. You didn’t know anything other than the power in your veins and the fierce flame in your heart that refused to be put out. Enemy after enemy went down by your hand, yet it was still not enough.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning flashed down from the heavens, illuminating the sky. Thor. He came back. You could barely hold back your sobs of joy as you raced to where the flash had appeared. However, there were too many enemies blocking your way, and before you had the chance to look for blonde hair and a red cape, blood and death swallowed you again.

Along with the other Avengers, you rushed into the forest. Your heart broke when you saw Steve, the man you loved, on the ground. Deadly bits of purple energy surrounded you as you launched yourself at the Mad Titan. You were strong. One of the most powerful Avengers, however, you were drained from the long battle, and it wasn’t long before you got tired. You missed a step, than another, and you felt your powers begin to flicker as Thanos advanced on you. You saw his sword coming, but you were still too late as it caught you in the gut, making you double over. Thanos grabbed your shoulder and tossed you like a rag doll into a pile of rocks. You could feel the vibration in your bones as you landed, struggling not to black out.

You watched in desperation as Thanos retrieved the glittering Mind Stone from Vision’s body, pushing Wanda aside as he completed his gauntlet.

Through your ringing ears, you heard a roar. Wait a minute, you knew that voice. Thor’s voice. “What have you done to her!?” He demanded, eyes sparkling when he saw your sprawled figure. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.” Replied Thanos. A bolt of lightning hit him and he stumbled backwards as Thor advanced on him. With a yell of rage, Thor embedded the axe in Thanos’ chest.

Thor slowly drove the blade in, wanting Thanos to feel every single bit of the same pain he had cause so many nations. “How does it feel now?” Snarled out Thor. His blood dripping onto the handle of the axe, Thanos raised his gauntlet covered hand.

“You should have gone for the head.” And than he snapped.

Bucky was the first to go, fading away as he turned to dust and you couldn’t watch as Steve rushed to where he was, clutching at the ashes that had already begun to scatter. Rhodey yelled Sam’s name, and you saw him fall to the ground as he too faded away. You heard Rocket cry out “no Groot no!” And turned to see Groot disappear as Rocket reached for him. Next to you, Okyoe watched in muted horror as T’Challa reached for her before turning to ash. Wanda was the only one who smiled when she left, knowing that she’ll join the love of her life, Vision, in the afterlife.

The numbness began in your chest and you could feel it slowly starting to spread throughout your body. You held up your hands, and you could see the edges of your fingertips become blurry. Thor let a choked sob, rushing to your side. “N-no! Not you, NOT YOU!”

You look at his handsome, bloodied face. “Shh... Thor, it’s alright.”

Thor’s tears dripped onto your face, mixing with your own tears as they dripped down your tears. “I love you.” He whispered.

You look beyond his shoulder and met Steve’s beautiful blue eyes, which were filled with tears and pure agony. “I love you too.” You say.

As you fade away, you swear you saw him mouth it back.

5 years later...

You woke up in the grassy fields of Wakanda, straining your eyes against the bright sun. Slowly, you sat up, groaning at the dull ache that was everywhere in your body. What the hell happened?

Across the clearing, you see Bucky attempting to stand, almost falling over onto Sam, who was still sprawled facedown in the dirt. “Watch where you’re going, you moron.” Groaned out Sam. Behind you, you hear a squawk of outrage. “I am Groot!” You turn and see Groot, untangling himself from a pile of branches. Next to you, T’Challa and Wanda slowly sat up, surveying their surroundings.

Slowly, your eyes met each others.

“What the fu-“ began Bucky.

Suddenly, a portal appeared in the middle of the clearing and Dr. Strange emerged. “What are you-“ “No time to explain. Come with me. NOW.” Interrupted Steven. He grabbed all of you and dragged you into the portal, and we emerged in the ruins of what used to be the Avengers Compound.

You were torn out of your devastated thoughts by a voice calling your name. “Y/N! Y/N!”

You turn and see Peter coming out of another portal, stumbling towards you on unsteady legs. “Peter!” You ran to him, meeting him halfway as he enveloped you in a hug. “T-thank god you’re here Y/N. I don’t know these other people very well.” You smiled, ruffling his hair before turning back to he compound. Before you was a sight that made both pride and terror swell in your chest. Steve Rogers was standing in the middle of the field, facing down the entirety of Thanos’ army.

Around you, more and more portals opened, revealing humans and aliens alike. All here to destroy Thanos. With the other Avengers, you formed a line besides Steve. The line between good and evil. The line between life and death.

“Avengers.” This was your life, your family, and you’ll fight for it. “Assemble!”

You fought for what feels like hours, only stopping to embrace a friend. Tony cried when he saw you, holding you in his arms. You saw in his eyes that there was something he wanted to tell you, but there was no time.

You were almost overpowered by one of Thanos’ monsters when all of the sudden, your opponent just vanished. You looked around in confusion as Thanos’ soldiers all faded to ash.

Your joy faded when you saw Tony’s slumped figure leaning against what used to be the compound walls. You rushed to him, everyone else moving aside for you. They know how much you meant to him. “Oh Tony...” you whispered, trying to hold in the sob in your chest. A red eyed Peter moved away from Tony. “Hey pretty girl.” He whispered, repeating the words he had said when he first met you. “Hey yourself mister.” You responded, letting out a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob. “Guess what?” He asked. “What?” With a pained grin, he said “I have a daughter.” Your red rimmed eyes went wide and you turned to look at Pepper. “A-a daughter?” “Her name is Morgan. And she’s gonna be so happy to finally meet her big sister.” Said Tony, the smile fading from his face.

“I’m sorry. For not protecting you better. For letting them say all that shit about you.” Tears were flowing freely down your face now. “None of it is your fault.” You whisper, voice as brittle as a newborn’s bones. “Thank you... for being like a father to me.” Tony gave you a soft smile that you had never seen before. He looked at Rhodey and grabbed his pal’s hand. “Take care of my girls.”

You moved aside for Pepper, who moved forward to grab her husband’s hands. You take a step back and Peter reaches for your hand. You turn around, unable to watch as Tony and Pepper whispered between themselves. A few seconds of silence followed and Pepper let out the whimper she had been holding in. He was gone. Unable to watch as they moved his body, you ran and collided with a pair of warm arms. You looked up and were greeted with a pair of lightning blue eyes.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked, voice hoarse. You didn’t have time to answer as he gathered you into his chest. He felt comfortable, familiar. He smelled like blood and sweat and the lilac soap you had gotten him because his mother had loved it. He felt softer than you had remembered. He felt like home.

As Thor lifted you up and carried you off the battlefield, you didn’t see the other pair of tear-filled blue eyes staring at your back. Or the other heart that you had just crushed in your hands.

Steve watched as Thor carried you away. He had wanted to run to you, to swallow you in his arms, to kiss you until your lips were swollen. He had missed you so, so much and during the last 5 years, he had finally realized how much he loved you. How much he needed you. But now, looking at your peaceful face, he realized that you didn’t feel the same anymore. He lost you, and there was only one way to get you back.

Steve stood on the raised platform, suited up and carrying a briefcase with the 6 stones inside. “Where to first?” Asked Bruce. “Stark Tower, 2015.” Responded Steve before being sucked into the void.

Steve landed near the building he had once lived in, walking inside the familiar lobby and getting into the elevator. He punched in the 8th floor. His favorite floor in the tower. His and Y/N’s floor.

As he got off the elevator, he could hear yelling coming from their room. He was about to go punch the daylights out of the guy who dared to yell at his girl when he froze. It was his voice. “You will never be like Peggy!” He heard himself say. It was true, Y/N isn’t like Peggy. She’s better. Fierce but gentle at the same time. Beautiful, so so beautiful, and she doesn’t even know it.

Steve’s thought were interrupted by a figure rushing by him to get to the elevator. Y/N. The elevator closed before Steve had time to gather his thoughts, but he knew where she was going. Her old room.

Steve took the stairs down to the 6th floor, where your old room was. The second that he stepped foot in the brightly lit hallway, he was overcome with memories. This was the place where he had realized that he loved you. Slowly, he walked up to your door and gave a simple knock. You flung the door open and anger flared again in your eyes as you saw him. You opened your mouth to yell but it was already too late.

Steve’s lips collide with yours, full of the want and the lust that had brewed in him over the last 7 years. You tried to struggle feebly, but he could feel you melting in his hands. It had been so long. So long since he last touched you, held you. So long since you had been his.

He pushed you back until your back was against the wall. You were trapped. You stared into his dark eyes, so different from the Steve you knew. “Y-you’re not the Steve I know, are you?”

Steve let out a dark chuckle. “Does it matter, babygirl?” You shivered as you heard the nickname fall from his lips. It had been so long since he called you that.

Steve planted his hand on your throat, squeezing until you were breathing heavily. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He growled, and latched himself to your neck. He hovered over the spot where your neck connects with your shoulder, biting down until you felt something wet drip down on your neck.

Steve lifted his head, the look in his eyes making your knees weak. He swallowed you in another kiss and you could taste your blood, slick and irony, on his lips.

“Strip.”

“Steve-“ you began. “That wasn’t a question. Now, strip.”

You decided to make him pay for making you wait.

“No.” You say with a cheeky smile.

With one movement, your wrists were secured above your head. “What did you say?” Steve whispered, eyes darkening to the color of storm clouds.

“N-no.” You tried to keep the flush off your cheeks, but you could already feel the heat between your thighs.

As if he could read your mind, Steve lifted your skirt and rested a hand between your thighs, stroking your clit through your panties. You bit back a moan, but Steve knew.

“Do you want this?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to speak.

“Then why.” Without warning, his hand dipped under your already ruined panties to stroke your folds. “Are you so fucking wet?”

You couldn’t hold back your moans this time, and a whimper left your throat as Steve stroke slowly. So, so slowly.

Steve felt a smug grin spread across his face at the sound of your small noise. He slipped his hand out and slammed you against the wall. “Now strip.”

“Y-yes sir.” You say. Slowly, you unbuttoned the dress you wore for him, revealing his favorite red bra. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, and the desire you saw made shivers run down your spine.

“Come here.” He gestured for you to crawl to where he sat on the bed and slowly, you got down on your knees and moved towards the bed. You kneeled at his feet, awaiting further instructions. Steve cupped your cheek and you couldn’t help but nestle into him. He yanked you up by your hair and you gasped, savoring the pain. He unbuckled your bra, tossing it aside as he reached to tear of your panties.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” He demanded, and you immediately complied. Laying on the bed, naked and spread wide open for his eyes to explore, you realized how vulnerable, how totally at his mercy you were.

Steve moved to your dresser, pulling out one of his old ties and your eyes widened as you started trembling. He climbed back on the bed, grabbing your wrists and tying them to the headboard. “Tonight, you do what I say, when I say it. Understood kitten?”

Still trying to fight his dominance, you remained silent until you felt a slap land on your pussy. “Do. You. Understand?” Growled Steve.

“Y-yes sir!” You answer, letting out a yelp as another slap landed. Steve let out a dark chuckle. “Good girl.”

His fingers start tracing your lips. “I’ve missed them.” He whispers. “And these.” Running his hands down your chest to pinch your peaked nipples. Moans were coming out of you freely now, and they increased in volume as his hands massaged your sensitive breasts.

Finally, Steve moved down to sit between your legs. He blew hot hair across your glistening cunt, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to touch you. “Not so fast babygirl.” He says. “You have to ask nicely.”

You let out a whimper as he ran a finger across your folds before putting the finger into his mouth. “P-please Steve.” You beg, not caring anymore at this point.

“Please Steve what?” He smirks. Knowing that he’s got you where he wants you. “Fuck me. Claim me. Destroy me.” You almost scream out. Steve unbuckled his pants, his hand stroking his length as he positioned himself at your entrance. “See? Good things happen when you obey me kitten.”

You didn’t have time to respond before his length was sinking into you. You had forgot how big he was, how good he felt inside you. By the time he was fully sated in you, you were already seeing stars. Moans and grunts filled the air, as he slammed into you again and again.

“Look at me.” Growled out Steve. “I want to see everything you have when I’m inside you. Don’t ever shut me out.” Your eyes flew open, finding his liquid blue ones immediately.

Your hands went flat against the mattress as he withdrew and thrust forward again and again. This is what you’ve wanted for so long, Steve on top of you, inside you, having absolute power over you. The steady rhythm he set sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body was taut, so close to the edge.

“Please Steve, may I cum?” You moaned out. “You don’t cum till I tell you to.“ he said with a slap to your ass. He spread you even wider and pounded into you again and you let out a pathetic whimper. “Steve, p-please!”

“Say my name kitten. Who do you belong to?” Steve demanded. He spread you even wider and pounded into you again and you let out a pathetic whimper. “Steve, p-please!”

“Say my name kitten. Who do you belong to?” Steve demanded. “You.” You scream out. “You, Steve. Only you.”

Satisfaction blazed in Steve’s eyes. “That’s right baby. Mine.” He slipped his hand between you thighs, stroking your clit as he continued to thrust into you.

“Come.” He growled out. “Give it to me Y/N.”

You let out a sharp cry as your orgasm flashed, explosive and so, so intense. Steve’s eyes glittered as you writhed underneath him and he went taut against you. You went wild around him as he spilled into you and both of you let out a groan as you rode out your orgasms.

Lowering himself to lie besides you, he pressed a kiss to your neck and whispered. “You’re mine. Now and forever.”

[urdbell18]

A Seed Hidden in the Heart Chapter 13: The One With the Bad Cupid

AN:I know I know it's been a while but here it is! Was it worth the wait? I don't know I'll let you guys decide. Enjoy! Also, hooray me 400th post!

By the first of February all of Baxter high became one big pink, red, white, and heart filled eyesore. Zelda had to grit her teeth and ignore it as best she could unless she goes insane. Hilda and Sabrina didn’t help, they both squealed and whispered in hushed tones like they were telling each other deep dark secrets. The pair of them were acting like teenagers, and while this behavior was perfectly acceptable for Sabrina it wasn’t for Hilda. Zelda looked at her sister like she lost her mind but deep down she recognized that Hilda was happy, the happiest that Zelda has ever seen her. It’s why she didn’t make a big fuss about it but she reserved the right to be annoyed. There was one beacon of hope and that was Mary.

Mary wasn’t very found of Valentines either. Someone, they didn’t know who and they hope they never find out, tapped a large pink heart on Mary’s office door. Mary proceed to rip it off her door then shred the paper heart before throwing it away. Zelda, who bore witness to the display because she needed some more staples and Mary said she had a box she could spare, was, yes taken back, but also amused and a bit relieved. While Zelda could never picture it she didn’t know if Valentine days would turn Mary into a glorified teenager like it did her sister or a sappy romantic like it did to the male gender. Zelda still had nightmares from when Dr. Cerberus showed up at her house with a large bouquet of roses and serenading Hilda with “(Everything I Do) I Do it For You” ruining it for Zelda forever. She never cared for it so it wasn’t a big lost. About a week until Valentine’s it became clear the Hilda was staking a claim to the house. She kept buying things that she attached notes on to not touch and buzzing around the house like a twister, collecting things here and there and stashing them in the conservatory. Zelda just looked on with no interest and immediately texted Mary to make plans. They were under no circumstances celebrating but they came up with a good plan, something nice and casual.

The plan was as followed. On Friday after Zelda picked up her daughter from school would take them to Mary’s house, far away from everyone and everything. The whole thing was going to be laid-back, Zelda wrote a reminder to herself to fill a small suitcase with things like board games, movies, and some books to keep Vida happy. Mary was convinced that they would order in, most likely pizza or chinese which ever struck their fancy. Zelda didn’t know how Mary could think that but after having a heated debate over it during lunch one day Zelda realized Mary was messing with her. While Mary’s answers were perfectly reasonable she wore this grin that was a cross between a smirk and a soft smile. It caused Zelda to stop mid sentence and she shook her head, calling Mary ‘impossibly insufferable’ but she was smiling all the same.

That WAS the plan, until this happened...

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

On Wednesday Hawthorne called an emergency staff meeting the split second after the dismissal bell finished ringing. Teachers started slowly trickling in, murmuring what was going on and what the meeting could be about. Teachers that were in charge of after school clubs were the last to join, they had to inform their club that they would be late or dismiss the club for that day. Among them was Mary and she looked pissed having been dragged away from her W.I.C.C.A. meeting, she took the seat that Zelda was saving for her with a low rumbling growl. Zelda, knowing how much Mary looked forward to her meetings, placed her hand on Mary’s knee and gave it a light squeeze, it instantly relaxed Mary though her scowl remained. Hawthorne came in when the last staff member squeezed himself between two math teachers.

“Thank you all for coming. You are probably wondering why I called you in such last minute.” Several murmurs could be heard and Mary gave a low growl that vibrated from the back of her throat. “I have gotten an email from the head of the PTA stating concern that they do not have enough volunteers to work the dance this Saturday.” Oh god the dance, Zelda groaned and cringed just thinking about it. The dance was another of Hawthorne’s ‘genius ideas to keep an eye on the rowdy teenagers’ but unlike Halloween this one appeared to be working. Several students bought tickets for the dance, Sabrina and her friends being among them. “Which is why I called you all here today to see if any of you would like to volunteer to work the dance.” There was silence. No one said anything or moved. Hawthorne’s face got redder and redder the longer the silence carried on. After five minutes Hawthrone who was starting to turn purple, huffed. “Very well I’ll volunteer you than.” Hawthorne started calling names, the teachers he called either groaned or sputtered with annoyance. Zelda tensed and squeezed Mary’s knees just a little harder. She hoped against hope the Hawthorne wouldn’t call on her, she worked Halloween so it would only be fair to not call on her. And he didn’t but just as they thought he was over he called one last person. “And Ms. Wardwell. I think that would cover the dance nicely. Meeting adjourned.” Hawthorne quickly left the meeting, most likely to save his own skin as the teaching staff went into an uproar. Mary sat there in a fuming rage. Zelda didn’t blame her nor did she chace after Mary when she abruptly got up and stormed out of the meeting. Zelda knew Mary and knew that Mary needed space to process her anger. Zelda left with the rest of the staff as they started to trickle out.

When Zelda finished her blackboards and her remaining grading for the day she still had five minutes before she normally left so she sat in her office to see if Mary would show. As she waited she sat at her desk deep in thought. Now that their not-Valentine’s plans were blown to bits Zelda had to think of something else to distract Vida and herself from the holiday. Maybe she’ll take her to the movies again, Vida seemed to like it enough to want to do it again. Or maybe a restaurant, that would be a nice treat for the both of them. But the problem with both of those ideas was not only the amount of people but they involved being out on a holiday, one that Zelda particularly hated. She gave up thinking of something five minutes before 4:40, when it was clear that Mary wasn’t going to show. Zelda didn’t mind and she packed up her stuff to leave for the day.

The second that she and Vida got home Zelda got an ear full of how unfair Hawthorne was being from Sabrina. Zelda let her niece carry on as she made dinner, when Sabrina was in ranting mode there was no stopping her and Zelda was too tired to try. It didn’t surprise Zelda that Sabrina knew, when Mary was angry she ranted and when she ranted nothing was held back and Sabrina was one of the few people that Mary could rant with. When they were done with dinner Sabrina and Ambrose were washing the dishes while Zelda helped Vida with her math homework.

“You know Auntie if Mary is going to be miserable at this dance thing why don’t you go and be miserable with her.”

“Ambrose that’s a great idea! Aunt Zelda you should go to the dance with Ms. Wardwell.”

“Before the two fo you lose your heads going to the dance isn’t a possibility.”

“Why not?” Zelda pointed her hand to her daughter who was currently trying as hard as she could to make her 3 as neat as she could.

“Oh.” Sabrina and Ambrose turned back to the dishes and they returned to the comfortable silence as before. By the time Sabrina and Ambrose finished the dishes Vida had completed her math homework and was working on her bear puzzle. That was Mary’s Christmas present to Vida, her very own puzzle that she worked on whenever she could. Zelda watched her from the armchair with a small glass of whisky, smiling softly at her little girl’s face sharp with focus.

“Auntie?” Zelda hummed as Ambrose, being careful of Vida and her puzzle, joined her, taking the armchair next to hers. “What if I watched Vida?”

“I don’t know Ambrose.”

“I know you don’t trust me but I promise I’ll keep a close eye on her.” Zelda took a slow draw of her whisky. She wished she could tell him he was wrong but he wasn’t. Zelda didn’t trust Ambrose with Vida because of something that he had done when he was a child. And he has proven since then that he has learned and grown pass his mistake. She’s trusted Sabrina on less so why can’t she trust him?

“Okay. But Ambrose-”

“I swear Auntie I’ll be on my best behavior and not a hair on head would be harmed.” Zelda glared at him and he, realizing what he said, ran a hand over the back of his head. “Right to far.” Zelda gave a dry chuckle and took another drink. As she continued to watch Vida as she tried to wrap her head around what she was about to. She still couldn’t believe it even as she wrote then sent an email to the person in charge of the dance. She was really doing this and when she pushed ‘send’ there was no turning back.

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

Today was such a good day! Vida couldn’t think it could get any better. To start, her Auntie Hilda made pancakes. Pancakes on a weekday! It has never happened before and she ate two happily with her face covered in strawberry jam. Vida noted that the pancakes that Aunt Hilda made were heart shaped, she didn’t know why until she arrived at school. Ooooooh, right Valentine’s day! Vida didn’t understand the importance of it completely but she knew that today was the day she could give out the cards she made. She spent a whole week working on them, making them neat and unique taking her time and great care with them. And then something happened about an hour after she arrived at school that blew away Aunt Hilda’s special heart shaped breakfast out the window. Her teacher told her that they would have an early lunch at the high school. She was going to Mommy’s and Sabrina’s school! There was only one thing that could make it better but she decided not to dwell on it.

Along with the rest of her class and teachers Vida walked to the highschool. Her fellow classmates ohhed when they arrived, it occured to Vida that none of her classmates have seen a building so big. Their excitement quickly turned to hesitation with a little touch of fear when they entered the lunchroom. Firstly, the lunchroom, or cafeteria as Sabrina called it, was huge! Their lunchroom was only half this size. And second the high schoolers, there was a lot of them and some of them they had to crane their necks up to see their faces, they were that tall! They kind of reminded Vida of the jolly green giant. Vida was the first to break away from her class, she saw Sabrina and her friends and her teacher said it was okay to join them when she pointed them out.

“Sabrina!” Her cousin paused mid laugh as she turned around to see her running to join her lunch box in hand.

“Hey squirt what are you doing here?” Harvey found a spare chair and he placed it between himself and Sabrina. After setting her lunch box on the table Vida climbed into the plastic seat. She had to sit with her legs under her so she could see over the table. Being short had so many disadvantages.

“My teacher said my class was allowed to have lunch with you guys so she brought us over.”

“That’s so cute.” Said Roz. Vida liked Roz, she was nice and smart and had really cool glasses that she let Vida try on one time. Vida opened her lunch box, she placed her cards inside it to keep them nice. Then she handed them to Sabrina and each of her friends, she had to stretch as far so she could to give her card to Susie. Susie had to meet her a little bit to take the card from her. Everyone said thank you when she gave them her cards and she talked about how she tried to make them unique. For Roz she found as much glasses decorations and drew as many as she could. For Susie she found an outline of a farm and tried her best to make it look like the one that Susie lived on though she doubts that Susie and her dad keep bears. Dr. C helped with Harvey’s, he cut up some old not valuable comic books and he glued the pieces where she wanted them. Her teacher called it a ‘collage’ but she doesn’t know what that means. For Sabrina she shaped her card into a cat, Sabrina liked cats and she ‘awed’ at the red and purple cat with a pink ribbon and uneven misshapen yellow eyes. After fawning over their cards Sabrina and her friends returned to their lunch, something that Vida would do herself but…

“Vida where’s your lunch?” Vida sunk in her chair and clunch her lunch box close to her, she took it back when she finished handing out her cards. She didn’t want to tell her cousin that she could count on one hand how many times she has actually had lunch at school. “Aunt Hilda packs you lunch right?” Vida just nods. She knows that Aunt Hilda makes her lunch. Aunt Hilda makes lunch for everyone and sometimes Vida would help her. “Vida is something wrong?” Sabrina used that soft voice that makes Vida tell her everything, she doesn’t know why or how to stop herself.

“Judas.”

“What?” Vida looks two tables over and Sabrina does the same. A boy, roughly the same age as Vida sat with some kids. He was a little on the pudgy side and was dressed in khaki pants and a crisp red polo. His black hair was slicked back and shiny with some sort of gel or mousse. He turned his head, most likely to talk to the person on his left but it was enough to spook Vida and she quickly turned back around trying to make herself even smaller in her chair. “Vida has he been bothering you?”

“He takes my lunch every day.” Vida didn’t say it any louder than a whisper, fearful that Judas might hear. She remembered the last time that she made Judas mad and she was careful to make sure she didn’t attract his attention. Sabrina looks shocked and a little mad and something settles inside Vida stomach, a bad feeling. Nothing good comes from Sabrina being mad. Sabrina starts to get up from her chair, Vida didn’t know what she was going to do but in a panic Vida yells. “No! Sabrina please don’t make it worse.” Sabrina pauses for a moment but then smiles, her sneaky smile and Vida doesn’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Just trust me.” She winks and hands Vida the last half of her turkey sandwich before walking over to where their teacher was talking. They talked for a minute and the dread that Vida feels, she doesn’t like it. Sabrina returns with a huge smile on her face.

“Wanna see your mom?” And just like that Judas is the last thing on her mind.

“Mommy!” Vida takes Sabrina’s hand and they say goodbye to Sabrina’s friends as they leave the cafeteria. It was a good walk from the cafeteria to Mommy’s office, Vida has never been there before but Sabrina knew where to take her, where to turn and what hallways to walk down and what door to knock on when they reach it. There was a pause before Sabrina opened the door.

“Aunt Zelda I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it Sabrina?” Sabrina moved more into the room so that she could enter.

“Mommy!” Vida ran into her mother’s office. Her mom was sitting behind her desk and her face showed a combination of shock and joy at seeing her in her office. Vida ran straight to her and Zelda scooped her up, hugging her close and kissing her cheek.

“Vida. What are you doing here?”

“Her class is having lunch at the cafeteria. I asked her teacher if it was okay to bring her to you and she said it was okay so long as I bring her back at the end of lunch.” Vida pouted into her mother’s shoulder. She didn’t have much time with her mom and she had to go back to school after. So unfair!

“Well then, you better make your time count baby bear.” Vida lifted her head from the soft warmth of her mother’s shoulder to see Mary sitting in a seat across from her mother with her feet on the edge of the desk. She winks at Vida when she noticed her looking at her.

“I made cards!” Vida pulled out two of her four remaining cards. One was for Ambrose and the other for Aunt Hilda and Dr. C, she made them one big card that she left at school because it was too big to fit in her lunch box. She held out Mary’s card and Mary had to get up from her seat when it became clear that Vida wasn’t going to leave Zelda’s lap until she was forced to. Mary took the card with a smirk and a raspberry to her cheek. Mary’s card was shaped like a kite, she made it out of green construction paper and the blue yarn that she made the tail from had letters tied to it that spelled ‘WICCA’. Zelda’s card was in the shape of a house, it looked like a combination of their own house and Vida trying to replicate the Addams Family house. Inside was in stick figure forms Vida, Zelda, and Mary in Vida’s best attempts at drawing them as the Addams Family characters they were at halloween.

“Thank you Vida I love it.” Vida beamed as Zelda kissed her cheek and gave her another tight hug. From there Vida told her mother about making her cards and the pancakes that Aunt Hilda made. All too soon Sabrina said she had to take her back, Vida pouted but hugged her mother and Mary goodbye. Sabrina returned her to her teacher and the rest of her classmates just as the bell rang, Sabrina waved goodbye before leaving. As they walked back to her own school Vida couldn’t help the big smile on her face. Definitely the best day ever!

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

Zelda spent the first half of Saturday making sure that the preparations she made for that night were set and the second half getting ready for the dance. She ignored Hilda who seemed to be going for some recond on how many things she could make heart shaped. When she left at 5 Hilda and Dr. C were holed away in the conservatory and Ambrose and Vida were in the parlor watching a movie. Vida’s Mary Poppins obsession was still going strong and Zelda kissed her goodbye during ‘Jolly Holiday with Mary’.

By the time that Zelda got to the school the dance was in full swing. The space that wasn’t being used for the refreshments and tables for people to rest at that lined the wall was taken up by dancing teenagers. The whole gym was packed to the brim with large pink and red heart shaped decorations, streamers, and balloons, one popped under her heel attracting the people closest to her. Lights and the music made it hard to take in anything not in three feet which was why she didn’t see Sabrina and her friends come up to her until they were right in front of her.

“Aunt Zelda you made it!” Sabrina’s friends murmured a greeting to her, she still intimidated them but that was okay by her. “Last I saw Ms. Wardwell she was sulking by the punch bowl.” Sabrina indicated over her shoulder to the corner across the gym, it was a quite dark corner with not that much foot traffic, it was perfect for Mary.

“Thank you Sabrina. Enjoy yourself but be smart, understood?” Zelda gave her niece a sharp look and Sabrina bristled a little.

“Understood Auntie.” And just like that Sabrina and her friends left to be lost in a sea of dancing bodies. Zelda didn’t waste any time making her way over to Mary. Mary was sulking in a corner with a glare that clearly spoke not to bother her but Zelda dared. She didn’t hesitate to join Mary and the second that she was in visible eyesight Mary’s scowl changed to a look of shock.

“What are you doing here?”

“Being miserable with you.”

“You know out of context someone could take that the wrong way.”

“And do you know that I don’t technically have to be here and could leave at any moment?”

“You wouldn’t dare. You’re not that cruel.”

“Oh?” Zelda rose and eyebrow and smirked. She took two teasing steps backward to make it seem like she was serious about leaving. Before she could take another step Mary growled and pounced wrapping her arms around her waist to bring her back and close against Mary. In the very back of her mind Zelda realized that this was inappropriate that they, two teachers, shouldn’t be pressed against each other the way they were when surrounded by their students. But they weren’t working, not officially, and there was nothing wrong with them, two consenting adults, being together. It was a romance holiday for crying out loud, it meant that she was allowed this, to be with Mary. Doubt would imply that she cared about strangers opinion and that was the furthest thing from the truth. Zelda only cared about her own opinion and Vida’s. That’s why she didn’t care who saw as she started to slowly kiss Mary and Mary slowly kissing her back. There were a few wolf whistles but the second they glared at the small crowd watching them they scrambled away. They weren’t bothered again for the rest of the night and when the dance was over Zelda went home with Mary.

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

When Zelda came into work the following Monday she and Mary were the number one topic of discussion by the students. Zelda was constantly picking up whispered conversations when she walked the halls. She ignored it at first, gossip was beneath her and uninteresting, but when her class starts whispering every time she turns her back she had enough.

“Is there something you all would like to say?” Her second period Russian class paled and a few students even sank into their seats. “Very well then you all are prepared for the test-”

“It’s about you and Ms. Wardell!” A girl, one of her few juniors spoke out in a rush that took Zelda back. Katie was always so soft spoken.

“What about me and Ms. Wardwell?”

“There are rumors that… the two of you… are… well… dating.”

“And?”

“We just wanted to know if it was true.”

“What Ms. Wardwell and I do in our spare time is our own business and what we do is no concern to you.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Do I pry into your life? No, I’m here to teach, you’re here to learn. If you want to engage in gossip I suggest you go elsewhere. Now if that’s all I would like to continue.” Her class fell silent and they continued class without further interruption.

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

“It appears that we are ‘out of the closet’.”

“I beg your pardon?” Zelda looked at Mary confused, she wasn’t familiar with that expression or how it applied to her and Mary. When Mary joined her for lunch like normal she didn’t say anything, just took her usual seat with a kiss to Zelda’s head and started to eat her lunch. Mary lifted her lunch tray and handed Zelda a single piece of paper. It was a print out of the school blog with a headline big and bold that said ‘Ms. Spellman and Ms. Wardwell: just friends or more?’ along with a picture of them at the dance. Someone had taken a picture of the when they were at the punch bowl, they were holding hands. Zelda placed the paper down and looked at Mary, she shrugged her shoulders as to say ‘so’.

“You’re not bothered.” It was said as a statement not a question and Zelda looked Mary dead in the eye to say.

“No. Are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.” Mary smirked and when lunch was over she kissed Zelda’s cheek goodbye. So that was that, they were ‘out’ as Mary called it. Zelda oddly didn’t care, her relationship with Mary didn’t change and she would be damned if she let anyone change it.

[fireandbloodtargaryenn]

End Of Our Time Part 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: None.

Summary: Reader and Bucky are going through one of their roughest patches ever, which ultimately leads to the words you never wanted to hear.

The days and weeks after the worst day of the reader’s life and starts to begin her life without her husband as she moves on as best as they can.

A/N: I hope that everyone has enjoyed this series and i’m also grateful for the positive feedback from the first four! And I hope you guys like parts 3 & 4 too as put alot of work into it. I apologise for spelling and grammar errors as always.

Master List | Prompt List | Catch up here. | REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO SEND ME YOUR REQUESTS. |

Tags List:

lovely-geek @rebelfleur22​

When Natasha dropped you off at your room, she looked at you and breathed deeply as she continued to look at you, Natasha cared for you while you were going through such a hard time as you searched for your key card in your small purse.

Hearing Bucky’s cold voice and comment that he made towards you really hurt your feelings and something he should not have said towards you, he really killed your mood for tonight’s date with Steve.

Wanda then came down the hall, as you were still standing at your door, oblivious to Wanda approaching you too busy finding your damn keycard that you always manage to loose either that or someone’s stolen it yet again.

She appeared that she had jus got out of the shower and spotted the pair of you, she always had some sort of sense that something has gone done and was always there when you least expected it.

You sighed deeply, then you quickly then saw Wanda appear next to you, quickly turning around while Natasha adjusted her position with her hands in front of her chest.

“Uh oh...Y/N. What happened?” asked Wanda as if there was something wrong to something happened

“I got asked out on a date with Steve tonight and confronted my ex husband after my training session with Nat.” you said as you were continuing to look through your purse.

“Oh i’m so happy for you that you got a date with Steve of all people and so sad that you have to constantly see your ex and be miserable because he is still around and our enemy Sharon, thank god she doesn't live here” said Wanda as she hugged you

You turned around and hugged Wanda back, suddenly you had an idea in mind and that would help you with your date tonight with Steve and involved Natasha and Wanda to help you with tonight which made you really excited.

“Thanks Wanda, you guys wanna help me get ready?” you asked as you then turned and got your key card from your purse and scanned it then looking at the pair of them with a happy smile on your face

They both nodded as the three of you entered your room, you put your things down on your bed. Wanda and Natasha quickly ran for your closet, and started going through it 

“Steve loves blue, red or white--” said Natasha before being interrupted by you.

“Or what about all three?” you popped up and made a suggestion as you stood behind the pair of them as they stopped and looked right back at you with concerns on their face.

Then you squeezed between the pair of them and started looking through your wardrobe as they both quickly moved out of the way. You pulled out your sailor themed rockabilly dress from your closet that you only wore during special occasions and tonight felt so right and perfect for tonight’s date.

Then you moved out of the way and held it up against you and they turned around and both looked at you with their mouths to the floor.

“Y/N?! Where have you been hiding that?” Squealed Wanda

“Yeah Y/N, please tell us.” Said Natasha as they both walked over towards you to get a good look at the dress.

Having this dress meant so much and never had the heart to throw it away as it was vintage from the 40′s and handed down from your grand mother, to your mother and now you.

It was so beautiful, clean and amazing, It fit you perfectly and you were not the person to wear such an amazing dress and meant everything to you still, to you, this dress was absolutely priceless and Steve will love it.

“It was my grand mothers, then my mothers now it’s mine. I think Steve will love it and bring some fond memories for him like this dress has with my family.” as Natasha and Wanda stopped and looked at the dress and it’s details.

Dragging away from Nat and Wanda’s prying eyes, then you went into the bathroom to carefully put on the dress and to quickly style your hair. Then taking a small sigh before you went out

Then you walked out and gave a small twirl for everyone, both Natasha and Wanda turned around while they were absolutely star struck

“Y/N! You look beautiful” they said in unison.

“Thank you!” you replied as you did another twirl.

Not long after Natasha and Wanda left your room a few hours later you finished doing your make up, put on some skin coloured stockings and put some small flowers in your hair. You grabbed your bag and started to make your way toward’s entrance of the Avengers Tower as Steve was always running late.

On your way to front foyer of the Tower and Bucky was standing walking behind you when he saw you walk out of your room, you didnt seem to notice him as he walked behind you. 

A small pang of hurt and regret passed over him, at this moment he was starting to regret his divorce from you as you were walking more away from Bucky, too late to call you back. 

Was it worth it? Was it worth leaving her for Sharon and this divorce?

You arrived at Steve at the location, the front foyer, and Steve was standing near the front entrance and Steve turned around.

“Y/N....you look beautiful.” said Steve.

“Thank you Steve. Shall we go?” you replied teasingly.

Steve turned to the front entrance, his face locking at yours, his arm open, you linked your arms with his and walked out the front door as Bucky stood at the end of the hallway and watching you both walk out the door.

The restrurant was beautiful and amazing, you both sat down and ordered food and sitting by the window as you both watched the world go by and talking about the little things and then you and Steve got on the subject of Bucky and your marriage. “Im sorry about Buck, Y/N he is my best friend and I cant get through to him about going back to you”

“It’s fine Steve, I knew something was up. I just have to come to terms with it and I have, I've moved on. I’ve found someone I like and I wish he felt the same way” you said as you sighed.

You took a small sip of your wine and put it done and Steve puts his hands on yours and he looked into your eyes deeply. His big blue eyes sucked you in, his facial features too.

“Y/N...I like you alot too, I know who you’re talking about. I do, I really do like you.” said Steve.

“I like you too Steve” you replied.

This was a game changer.

[synchrosk8er]

My Olympic Journey...Just Kidding

“Synchro is not a sport.”

“Is there a time element? How do you score?”

“No, it is an art. That’s why it’s not included in the Olympic games.” 

The Synchronized Skating community bends the already stiff boundaries of how a sport is defined. I was curious as to what the internet had to say on this matter, so I looked it up: 

...and got this. Thanks, Merriam-Webster. 

Unfortunately, the “sport” I currently participate in and have dedicated so much of my life to is not even defined in one of the largest dictionaries the world has to offer. Ladies and Gentlemen, I welcome you to the struggle of being recognized as an Olympic sport in Synchronized Skating. 

Defining Synchro

Because Merriam-Webster was unable to define it, Synchronized Skating, or more commonly known as “Synchro”, is a branch of skating tailored for people who do not fit the stereotypical “ice skater” look. Teams recruit long (we’re talking 5’10”+), lean women (and on occasion, men) over the typical short (usually 5’), more muscular freestyle skaters. 

The difference between freestyle skating and synchro is all in the numbers; freestyle is a one-man show. Synchro contains up to 20 people per team, 16 of which skate in a synchronized fashion on the ice at once. We all dress the same, we all have similar body measurements and some teams even have their skaters dye their hair the same color (I’m looking at you, Team Canada).

(I’m the girl farthest to the right, in what we call a “death spiral”.)

My Story

I’ve skated since age two, but I’ve also been in the synchro community for a hot minute. I started when I was in first grade in Philadelphia. I grew a lot by the time I hit middle school, and was recruited in 6th grade to skate with the collegiate girls of the University of Delaware. I skated there for five years, until I got a very special email.

That email was from Team USA. I could not believe my eyes when I opened it. I clicked on the email, and it was a formal recruitment letter. As anyone would, I dropped my contract with the University of Delaware and headed for Stamford, Connecticut to practice with my new team. 

I trained like an Olympian in my Junior year. 40 hours of practice per week in Connecticut for Skyliners synchronized skating was the equivalent of holding down a full-time job along with keeping up in the most difficult year of high school. It was grueling, and at times it felt like it would never end. I lost 30 pounds that year, and was eerily thin, yet built with lean muscle. My friends did not see me for a while, as I was away every weekend, and my social life back home was gone before I knew it. To say this was a miserable year for me would be an understatement. 

That being said, the prior year, my team was ranked third in the country. If we moved one place up, we would go to the World Championships; my dream ever since I first got on that ice fifteen years prior. We competed across the globe together; we beat anyone who attempted to step in our path.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3HZRgwdV2M&t=443s

(Here is the video of us from Austria.)

Then, the qualifying competition happened; formally called the U.S. National Synchronized Skating Championships. 

 That year, we went on to be the first year my new team attended a World Championship. Ever. 

(Here’s the world team roster, and me after we won gold abroad in Austria.)

Here’s the catch: this all happened in 2018, a Winter Olympic year. Yes, we attended a World Championship and I am very grateful for that. But imagine putting in all of that work, and all of those hours, and all of that practice, only for the Olympic committee to tell you straight to your face that your craft has no place in the Olympics. 

I could have been an Olympian.  

Inclusion in the Olympics

Now. I have a lot of passion for this sport. Obviously, I put a ton of effort into it and it was my life for a while. But, for the sake of writing a factual argument, I am ready to set those thoughts aside (for the moment). 

Public Enjoyment

The public loves this sport; it is fresh, and entertaining. There is no other sport quite like it; 16 girls on the ice at once is a pretty cool thing to witness. Stephen Murray, a male synchronized skater (and friend of mine) from Team USA in Boston says, “When you see 16 skaters on the ice doing the exact same thing at the exact same time, there’s nothing like it,” Mr. Murray said. “I’ve been competing in this for 12 years and there are still programs that I’ll watch and get the chills because it’s just that incredible what you can do with that depth of skill and what stories you can tell and what feelings you can portray. When you get the music right on the note with the lifts or the pivoting block, it’s something you can’t describe, unless you see it for yourself.” (Rogers, 1). One of the reasons excuses as to why the sport is not in the Olympics yet is because people will not want to watch it; this is honestly the least of our problems. 

Swimming? 

Synchronized swimming is a relatively popular Olympic sport. It is so popular, that when I accidentally tell people I do Synchro and not Synchronized Skating, they ask me how long I can hold my breath for. Awkward. Instead of 16 girls, swimming uses 8. The IOC says that synchronized skating should not be in the Olympics because there are “double the girls”. *eye roll*. 

To note: Synchronized skating is not to be confused with 

team skating; an event where solo skaters compete separately, but

with their home country’s other competitors.

Athleticism

When I first started skating synchro, I saw it as the sport that was for people who were not good at the other four disciplines of skating. As the sport became less new and more developed, it started to attract the athletes that you see now; long and lean people. As the sport has evolved, it started to incorporate the skills that you would normally see in those other disciplines. Because of the difficulty of this, the sport should receive some sort of recognition. Which leads me to my next point. 

The Odd One Out

“The summer Olympic Games have synchronized swimming, even synchronized diving. But the winter games are once again taking place without the inclusion of synchronized skating...It is the only skating discipline not included in the Olympics.” (Rogers, 1). As I mentioned previously, synchro is the only discipline in the skating community that is not in the Olympics. There is a stigma around the sport and this does nothing but throw more fuel to the fire. Why is this? 

Synchronized skating is a sport of power, will, and perseverance. I don’t think my (or a lot of people’s) life would be anywhere near where it is now without it. My dream is to one day, have the sport that I cherish so dearly in the Olympics.

I think that is ready to be shared with the world. 

(OK, we have a few years before this sport is truly “shared with the world”. But for now, take action and share it with your friends! Just use:

#WHYNOTSYNCHRO?