#we're going to drop the unedited images and then what are you going to do

[sysmedsaresexist]

These (completely unfounded) conspiracy theories are wild

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twenty Three: The One When They're Alone

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4040

     Lily knew was never a huge fan of Christmas. The only reason she put the amount of effort she did into it was for Hunter. He loved the holiday. As a child, it was usually one of the only days that his father would be home the whole day. But it was one of Lily's least favourites, because her parents weren't typically home for Christmas. Usually, Lily and her siblings would find themselves up at their grandparents. She wasn't complaining, she loved her grandparents, and she knew her parents wanted to be home, but their work was essentially them constantly travelling. And then further in her future, Scott may have been there for Hunter, but he was not there for Lily. He was seemingly at his worst during the holidays...and she just happened to be the one on the receiving end of his anger.

Lily hadn't seen Bucky get angry yet. It sat in the back of her mind like a looming threat, and she wondered if the past few months had simply been a facade. That in reality, he was no different. Did she think it was true? No, no she didn't think he would ever hurt her. But she had suffered such trauma from Scott that she just...she was never too sure.

"Your turn, doll," Bucky smiled, picking up two boxes that were very clearly wrapped by Rose, seeing as the girl was sending a knowing nod at her older sister, "Yeah yeah Rose wrapped them, my attempt was sad."

Lily laughed and kissed the man's cheek before turning to his presents that sat in her lap. She picked up the first one, it was long and rectangular, not too large either. Raising her eyebrow, she carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a lovely leather case with her name scripted on the top of it. Looking over at him, she pursed her lips before lifting the black lid, feeling the tears prick at her forest green eyes. She stared down at the silver necklace, running her hands over the scripted letter that hung from the chain. It was a small pendant, simple and discreet. But it was something that made Lily's heart grow three times its size. A simple B hung from the chain.

"Buck..." she whispered, looking up at him with glazed and teary eyes, "It's lovely." she cooed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips before lifting it from the white pillow it rested on.

"Let me." Bucky chuckled, taking the piece of jewelry and moving her blonde hair across her shoulder. She turned her back to him and shivered at his metal hand brushing against the back of her neck as he clasped the necklace together.

"Alright open the other one." Gen said excitedly, earning a head tilt from the blonde. Bucky chuckled lowly from behind her and Lily readjusted herself in her seat, carefully unwrapping the next box.

As she opened the lid of the next box, her confusion only grew. Inside the box laid a single white envelope with her name written. Reaching in and pulling out the box, Lily furrowed her eyebrows. Opening the envelope, her heart only continued to grow. Inside sat a picture of a cabin, covered in snow and decorated with lovely garland. The cabin was built of logs, and had a fire burning on the inside. The snow was so perfectly landscaped it almost seemed fake, but she knew it was just a picturesque image taken to lure people in for what she figured would be a vacation. In the bottom, a handwritten note was written out in Bucky's hand writing, with a simple few words summing up exactly what it was.

"Just the two of us." He repeated aloud, hand resting on the small of her back, tracing gentle patterns, "It's Steve's cabin. Y'know with him retired now, he doesn't exactly have a lot to do. But he said it's ours for as long as we want it." he continued, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"It's perfect, Buck," she whispered, a gentle chuckle lacing her voice as she turned and placed a kiss to his forehead, "Absolutely perfect."

-----

And it was. Bucky and Lily had decided to take Steve up on his offer the weekend of Valentine's Day. The couple had reached three months together officially, and she figured it would be nice for them to experience the romantic weekend alone together. No kids, no sisters, no work, no distractions. Bucky had promised her that there would be no interruptions, and that it was just going to be the two of them. He made an emphasis on the whole 'no work' part, and Lily would be sure to hold him to it.

Turning off the car, Bucky turned to look at Lily with a kind and loving smile on his face, "Alright doll, we've arrived."

Lily glanced out the window and smiled at the snowy landscape. It was February so the cold wasn't unbearable, but it wasn't exactly a comfortable temperature either. Lily was a Long Island native, so Northern New York weather wasn't exactly her favourite thing. It dipped down quite low and she would have to estimate it sat at about minus ten celsius currently. Either way, she was just grateful for the time alone with Bucky. It had felt like ages since the two didn't have something going on around them. Whether it be Bucky's work, or Lily's. Not to mention, Rose was nearing her due date and constantly stressed about the arrival of her baby, while also finding somewhere to live that wasn't Lily's.

"That drive felt like hours," Lily teased, leaning over and nudging Bucky's arm, "I'm just glad you didn't fall asleep on me old man." she quipped, popping open her door and stepping out from the car.

"You have been hanging out with Sam way too much," Bucky chuckled, following the blondes suit, "You're starting to sound like him."

"Well the man is a comedic genius, I should be taking pointers." She hummed, picking up her bag from the back seat and hauling it over her shoulder, rounding the car to meet Bucky.

"Don't tell him that, it'll inflate his ego even bigger than it is." Bucky chuckled, walking over and quickly grabbing her by the waist.

The blonde let out a bright laugh, curling over in his arms and stumbling along the snow. Bucky's chuckle filled her ears like a sweet song as the two stumbled back towards the log cabin belonging to their friend. His lips found her cheek and peppered loving pecks along it, causing her giggles to evolve into small squeaks as she fumbled to pull out the keys. When she found them, it didn't take long for the blonde to unlock the door and peel herself from the supersoldiers arms. Dropping her bag and tugging the grey knit hat off of her hair, Lily turned to look back at the man who stood in front of the door. Placing her hands on her hips, she admired him for a moment. Nothing was on her mind. Just him.

The way his eyes sunk a bit deeper into his face due to the years of struggle and trauma. The way he had let his beard grow out a bit, not fully a beard but a thicker stubble. Were his shoulders always so broad? Lily admired the way his arm flexed when he removed his own hat, swallowing deeply. But the biggest thing that stood out to her was the way he looked at her. That deep thought sort of gaze, as if he were doing the same thing she was. Admiring everything about the other. No exterior factors playing any games, just the two of them. Alone. He looked at her so lovingly, watching her every move intently and studying the way she acted. He was so in tune with everything about Lily that she began to blush, and he was merely looking at her, neither had spoken.

"What're you staring at, Barnes?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothin', Osborne." he retorted, closing the door and sliding his jacket off before turning back towards her, a smirk evident on his lips.

Pursing her lips into a smile, Lily ran forward and jumped up onto the man, wrapping her legs around his torso. Her arms snuck around his neck, while his found underneath her thighs. Their lips hovered mere centimetres from the others, breathing in the others' existence before finally connecting. It was cheesy and cliche but she felt fireworks deep within her stomach. The two moved together like ocean waves joining together, creating a large body of water. Lily's hands tangled themselves into the short strands on the top of his head and Bucky stumbled his way to the couch. He bent over and laid her gently on the leather couch. She hummed softly at the feeling of a yarn blanket tickling at her neck as he hovered above her. Both of their faces were flushed from the cold outside and the passionate moment they had just shared. Bucky's steel blue eyes stared down at her and he reached over the couch. Furrowing her eyebrows, Lily watched as he pulled out a black old fashioned camera.

"Surprised you know how to work one of those things, old man." she teased, covering her face with her chilled hands.

"Oh don't get smart with me now, doll," he purred, moving her hands with his metal one, "you'll regret it later." the man winked, quickly snapping a photo of the woman before tossing the camera onto the table.

"Is that a threat or a promise." Lily returned, a smirk evident on her lips.

"Well...I did tell Steve he'll probably want to hire a deep cleaning service after we're done." He chuckled, resting his weight on his heels.

"James Barnes!"

-----

Lily hummed gently to herself to the song that played through the small kitchen in the cabin. Saving All My Love For You by Whitney Houston was her background noise of choice as she put together a romantic dinner for her and Bucky to commemorate their first night there. The lyrics left her mouth in a soft tone as she chopped up cucumbers for the salad, her hips swaying gently to the music. Bucky had stepped out to the grocery store in town to pick up a few things they had left back at the house, and Lily wanted to surprise him. She had packed a dress that her and Gen had found at a vintage shop in Manhattan, it was 40's inspired, with a deep forest green colour, a bow at the collar with a keyhole that exposed a bit of her collarbone, and hit just below her knee. It had short sleeves, and made her feel like she should be on the dance floor of The Cotton Club in Harlem during the 1940's. She had attempted the classic pin curls of the time but...they were subpar.

Glancing behind her, Lily stirred the marinara sauce as the chicken baked in the oven. But the lights of the car made her stomach drop. She was hoping the snow would slow him down enough for her to finish dinner and have it ready for him when he got home. Pouting to herself, Lily returned to her chopping. Well, as much as she wanted her plan to fully execute itself, she tried her best. Not to mention, he had shown himself to be a fast driver. Her voice continued to sing out the lyrics to Whitney, as she checked on the chicken. She popped her head up briefly when she heard the crunching of snow grow closer to the door. She stood, and brushed off the soft dress she wore as she waited.

"The snow is crazy, doll, I swear," Bucky's voice called, "but I got the snacks you wanted. I also rented a few movi- woah."

A blush flooded the blonde's face as she locked eyes with the man across from her. He was covered in snow and carrying four different grocery bags. But they fell from his fists as he stared at her longer. Insecurities washed over Lily at his silence and she crossed her arms over her stomach, that familiar queasy feeling returning. Her eyes shifted to stare down at her feet as she shuffled on the hardwood floor, waiting for him to say something, or anything at that.

She didn't even hear him take off his jacket, his boots, or anything. She didn't even hear him walk over to her. But she did feel the way his arms slipped around her waist, hands playing along her stomach as the music changed into the 40's love songs she had put in the queue. The gentle sounds of guitar played as Aubrey Hepburn's melodic tone filled the kitchen. Moon River began to play, and Bucky nuzzled his face into the crook of Lily's neck. Her eyes fluttered shut as he swayed behind her, his grip moving her with him. The food long forgotten about, Lily turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck. Their foreheads met one anothers, eyes shut as they continued to sway back and forth in the kitchen. With the snow falling outside, and the delectable smells filling the cabin, Lily felt like she was in a dream. Any worry she had ever felt leaving her as the moment consumed her.

His lips ghosted hers as the song came to an end, but his grip didn't waver. The two continued with their dance, seconds turning to minutes as time seemed to cease to exist. The only thing both felt was the bodies of each other. His hands gripping her waist, rubbing circles through the silky material of her dress. The smoky musk of him filling her senses acting as though it were a drug, sending her into a state of euphoria. She knew they weren't a conventional couple, but it were these moments that reminded her that they could be. The couple that went on walks on the beach, or walked the dog through central park. Or danced in the kitchen at 3 in the morning. Went on ice cream dates, with or without Hunter. Spent time talking and telling the other just what went on in their heads. Growing together as separate people with a shared love.

But the fire alarm pulled her back from her daydreams, and reality smacked Lily in the face.

"Oh my god the chicken!" She exclaimed, pulling away from Bucky's strong grip as she grabbed her oven mitts and pulled open the oven, a puff of smoke wafting into her face.

Bucky laughed gently as Lily scrambled around, trying to salvage the rest of the meal she had planned. When she saw the sauce and chicken however, her heart sunk down to the floor. Groaning, the blonde placed her elbows on the counter and her face in her hands. She shook her head and felt the heartbreak spread through her at her failed evening attempt.

"If it makes you feel better," Bucky cooed, lifting his girlfriends chin to look at him, "I bought your favourite pizza, and rented your favourite movie...and just so happened to pick up your favourite ice cream," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, "and as hot as you look in this dress...why don't we just get into pyjamas and watch a few movies and veg out."

Lily smiled sadly at him and nodded, "I like that plan. I should have known that trying to cook alone would be a disaster."

"I give it an A for effort."

"Oh whatever, metal man."

-----

Lily groaned as she stretched her arms above her head, before rubbing the heel of her hand into her eyes. Peeling the lids apart, the bright sun sent a shock through her system. Collecting her barings, Lily realized her and Bucky had fallen asleep on the couch. She had to admit, it was a pretty comfy couch. It was made of leather and had deep sides with the tufted coverings, and small cashmere blankets that were not at all big enough to cover anyone. But the two had grabbed a few spare from the closet before they settled in for their movie night. Glancing down, Bucky's head rested on her stomach, the man still sound asleep. She admired the calmness in his face, the stress lines faded and smoothed out as he rested. Reaching behind her, she grabbed ahold of the camera he had brought and quickly snapped a photo, admiring his gentle snores. She ran her fingers through his hair and tilted her head to the side. Lily had known Bucky was handsome, hell, the first time she saw him she knew it.

He had chiseled cheekbones, a sharp jawline that was covered with stubble. His cheeks hollowed slightly, and his eyes creased at the edges. His nose was straight with a slight bump to it, and it fit his face shape perfectly. His eyes were hooded and even closed, held stories that she couldn't imagine. While asleep, they were less noticeable, but there were creases in the centre of his forehead, and Lily's stomach did a flip. His breathing was still that of a deep sleep, and she couldn't help but trace the contours of his face. The aged lines that each told a tale of his life. The rough patches of hair that prickled at the blonde's still hands as she continued to admire him.

Moments later, he began to stir from between her legs, causing Lily to giggle slightly as his nose scrunched. His eyes seemed to force themselves open at the noise, and the same feeling she got from the bright light seemed to hit Bucky as well. Her soft coos caused a groan to emit from the man's throat as he burrowed his face deeper into her stomach, pulling the blankets further over them both. Shaking her head, Lily pulled herself up from underneath the large man, or at least tried to. His weight was on a certain part of her body that just held her in one place. Throwing her head back, Lily shook her head before looking back down at him.

"Buck, c'mon, let's get up." She sighed, ruffling the messy curls on his head.

"Five more minutes." He whined, pulling her closer by her hips.

"No. I'm a mother, I know what five more minutes means," she laughed, "and we are not spending all day on the couch. Lets go skate on the lake today, love."

Bucky shot up, eyes wide at her request, "No. No, I refuse."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Lily crossed her slightly cramped legs, "...and why do you refuse, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky scratched the back of his neck as he avoided the intense gaze that Lily was sending his way. Lowering her eyes, the blonde crawled forward and took his face into her hands. They locked eyes and for a moment, she thought about kissing him. But she figured it would be better to figure out why he was so against going skating. Then it clicked, and she realized just why he was so against it. Pursing her lips to keep from smiling, Lily leaned back onto her heels.

"Bucky...do you not know how to skate?" She wondered, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"...Do not tell Steve or Sam they will be on my ass about it." Bucky quickly said, taking his girlfriends hands into his own.

"I won't, I won't, but I'm invoking the 'It's Valentine's Day' card. Because it's Valentines Day, and it will be romantic," she grinned, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, "plus, I'll teach you how to skate. It's not that hard I promise. I saw they have skates down at the lake so c'mon, gotta get a good pair."

"You're gonna be the death of me, doll."

"That's what I'm here for."

-----

He wasn't lying when he said he didn't know how to skate. Lily skated gracefully out onto the ice, waiting for Bucky to lace up his skates. It had been a while since she had skated, seeing as it wasn't something she did commonly. She used to go all the time with Gen back in Long Island when they were younger, but eventually they stopped. But her muscle memory kicked in as she twirled and skated around the ice. She dodged children and couples as she warmed up her body. Only to spot Bucky hesitantly staring at the ice in front of him. Lily made her way back towards him, stretching her mitt covered hand out towards him.

"It's not going to bite, Buck," Lily smiled softly, moving a bit closer, "C'mon. I'll be here the whole time." she reassured, gripping his hand as he curled it into hers.

The moment he stepped onto the ice, both ended up falling. Him from a lack of balance, and her from the fact he fell. Bucky groaned while Lily laughed, pushing herself off the ground and placing her hands on her hips. He had flopped his arms out and let his head fall against the ice, a clearly forced pained look on his features. Rolling her eyes, Lily gripped his hand and yanked, attempting to pull him back up onto his feet. The thing is, he was a supersoldier, she was a doctor. She had strength, hell, she pushed out a child. But you see, Bucky was, once again, a supersoldier. Dropping his arm, and crossing her own over her chest, Lily glared down at him.

"I won't cook dinner for a week if you don't help me get you up." Lily threatened, arching her brow.

Opening his eyes, Bucky mirrored her expression, "Is that a threat or a promise?" He teased, resulting in a handful of snow to be thrown at him. A low laugh escaped from his chest as Bucky heaved himself up, gripping onto Lily for support.

"Wow you're such a comedian." She quipped, rolling her eyes and gripping onto his forearms.

The two skated for a few hours. Two to be exact. Bucky had essentially latched onto Lily's waist the entire time. She skated around, dragging him behind her as he bent over and hugged himself to her back, arms tightly wound around her waist. At one point, he did let go and try to stand on his own. He lasted about...five minutes. After that, Lily had to offer her back as support for the poor man so he didn't go tumbling face first into the ice. The entire time was spent laughing and stumbling, as well as Lily trying her hardest to just get him to stand. Sadly, she didn't have much luck. He continued to grip onto her even when they were heading back towards the edge to leave and take off their skates. It was endearing, but Lily had hoped to get somewhere with it. Still, she had a good time. And seeing The Winter Soldier be genuinely afraid to fall made Lily's heart swell. Seeing that more vulnerable side of him made Lily sure they were moving in a good direction in their relationship.

As the two neared the cabin, Lily saw a familiar car parked on the road across from where they were staring. She didn't think too much of it as they walked into the cabin, ridding of their coats and winter gear they had layered on, to face the bone chilling cold that had taken over the outdoors. Both then dropped onto the couch with cups of tea and coffee, Lily had the tea, and Bucky the coffee. His arm draped around her, drawing patterns into her knit sweater covered arm.

But the peace didn't last long.

A knock on the door surprised Lily and Bucky. They both stopped talking about their ideal vacations, and turned to look at the door. Lily placed her tea down and stood to her feet, making her way over towards the wooden piece. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she glanced over at Bucky before she pulled the door open. Her jaw went slack and mind went blank when she saw the person. Because she knew the reason he would be here.

"Hey Lily...is Bucky here?"

[jacksficrecs]

In Hopes That You Remember Me - Chapter One

PROMPT: Tony in the Hospital + Steve being guilty

A/N: This is one of my first attempts to learn how to write a decent story again. Enjoy.

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: [for the rest of the story] Depression, Trauma, Amnesia, Comatose

STATUS: Ongoing, Unedited

---

Steve has never felt this nervous before.

He stared at himself in the mirror, water dripping from his chin. Tonight was the night.

He remembered the day his relationship with Tony was revealed to the public. Tony had decided it was a good time to sneak a kiss on the taller man's cheek while they looked around a quaint little bookstore just some blocks away from the tower. They could have bought books online, but you know, going outside every once in a while is never a bad thing. Of course, someone had spotted them, took several pictures of him pulling the brunette into a hug and offering a kiss on the forehead before stepping back to take another book of the shelf, he presumed. The next thing they new, it was all over the web. It was posted on any social media platform you can name, and unsurprisingly enough, it gained a lot of attention. Steve wasn't ready to 'come out of the closet' yet, as they say, but he didn't have much of a choice. The public already found out, so he might as well confirm their speculations.

'Steve Rogers and Tony Stark: The Most Iconic Power Couple of the Month'

The two read the article together. It was amusing, to say the least. Very amusing to see the media go crazy over a gay superhero couple. Kind of upsetting to see the close-minded people rant over how they're setting a bad example for the younger generation that looked up to them. Homophobia could never be erased, he supposed.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Knock, knock, Capsicle. You done putting on your makeup yet?" Tony hums from the other side. Steve simply smiled at that, shaking his head. "Hang on, Tony. I'll be out in a second." He responded, taking the towel he had hanging on the towel rack installed into the tiled wall and drying himself off. "You better be. I'm about to fall off what you're telling me to hang onto." Steve only chuckled quietly. This was the man he loved. This sarcastic little son of a bitch. 

"Cap! Come on, snap out of it! We need you-" A voice calls from the distance, though he couldn't quite place who or where it was coming from.

 "Ready for our first date?" The Stark smiled warmly when the blonde finally exits the bathroom, fully dressed in the blue suit Tony's picked out for him. "Ready as I'll ever be." Steve replied easily, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Still not going to tell me where we're going for tonight?" "No. Don't you know what a surprise is, Rogers?"

"Steve!" The same voice. Louder this time. What was happening?

 "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's go." Steve laughed, rolling his eyes as the shorter man led him towards the door with a big, content smile. 

---

"Steve." His eyes opened. He was back in the real world. Gunshots were heard. Explosions. The familiar whine of the Iron Man suit's repulsors powering itself up into the air. "Wh- What-" The blonde started questioning the events, eyes bleary as he tried to process who he was talking to. Natasha. "Steve. You're alright." The redhead sighed in relief, eyes scanning the blonde for any serious issues. "Nat-" He mumbles, swallowing the knot in his throat. It's all coming back to him now. He was in the middle of a battle. He was supposed to be fighting off his HYDRA twin. Speaking of the guy, where was he?

And what did he do to him?

"Steve. I need you to tell me what he did." Her green eyes were full of worry. "What did you see?" "First date with Tony." He answered quickly, grunting as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. He needs to get back into the fight. The others needed him. They needed his help. "Reenaction." The blonde added, forcing himself to stand, using his shield to assist him. God, everything hurt. "Steve, wait," She places a hand on his arm. Steve's attention shifts back towards the spy accompanying him. The earth shakes, and the hulk's yells were heard from a distance. "Nat, we need to get back to-" "Steve. What do you remember him doing? What was the last thing you remember him doing to trigger... Whatever happened to you?" She questioned. It really did seem like an important question. He stood silent for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he dug through his scattered thoughts and memories, trying to pull something out. "I-"

"Steve?" He turns his head. Natasha. But Natasha was right there, right beside him. He looks back at the redhead that still had her hand resting on his arm. She didn't have the scar from the last fight on her collarbone. He reacted immediately. 

Nat's double landed a hard hit on his temple.

All went black.

---

There was a painful ringing in his ears.

Dazed, Steve opens his eyes, finding himself on the ground, in the middle of a battlefield, with large pieces of debris scattered around him. Since when did he get there? Was the fight over? Head pounding and ears still ringing, he struggles to prop himself up on his elbows to get a clearer view of his surroundings. How long has he been lying there? There was a fire in the distance, or at least, he assumed there was judging by the smoke rising up into the sky. A quinjet had crashed nearby and was a total wreck, leaving several of its pieces everywhere. There wasn't really a lot happening by this point. A couple of tree branches were scattered here and there, and glass and concrete from the few buildings (that were very tall, mind you) decorated the ground. Clint was on the other side of the field, helping Natasha back on her feet. The Hulk was nowhere to be seen, probably off to calm himself down, and Thor was somewhere in the sky, as indicated by the low rumble of thunder off in the distance. Why he was still up there, he didn't know. All he knew was that the battle was over. Thank God. Everything seemed okay.

And then, the realization hits him.

Tony. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere to be seen.

With a quiet huff, he pushed himself off the ground a bit too quickly, resulting in a bad headache and a brief moment of vertigo, but he really couldn't care enough. All he could think of was Tony's whereabouts and his well-being. God, what if he's hurt? Disregarding the pain he felt in almost every part of his body and the fact that breathing was just painful, he immediately went to approach both the Black Widow and her good friend, Hawkeye with a bit of a grimace. "Barton, Romanoff." The blonde greets the two, his voice sounding rather hoarse. "Captain." The two spies nod, casually brushing themselves off as if they'd done nothing but trip. "Any of you know where Iron Man's gone?" He asked, his gloved hands finding their way to the belt strapped around his waist. "Nope," Natasha replied simply. "Last time I saw him he was up in the air dancing with his evil twin." Steve's heart dropped. Where could they have gone then?

Once HYDRA got their hands on Tony, they were in big trouble. That man stores a lot of important information in his head. If they ever got it out of him, the team (and probably the entire human race) will be royally fucked. The Avengers will no longer be seen as heroes. Their reputations will drop like a boulder in water as soon as HYDRA released their 'new and improved' creations. Their counterparts. Hell, they might even be stronger than the actual Avengers. IF they got everything out of Tony. But Steve doubts that'll ever happen. Tony was a strong man. And painfully stubborn, might he add. But HYDRA had their ways to get someone to comply. Mind-Control, Brainwash, Torture, you name it. Tony might be strong, but one of their methods could potentially break him. He ran a hand through the tousled nest of hair resting on top of his head, releasing a heavy, painful sigh as his gaze shifts to the ground. "Right. Okay, Thank you. Um... Go contact SHIELD for me, will you? I have a feeling we weren't the only ones here when our 'friends' came for a visit." The Captain says, letting a bit of a commanding tone lace into his voice, trying to maintain the 'Leader' image he was supposed to have even though he knew it was useless. Clint and Natasha knew just how scared he was. He was fucking terrified. Worried. Hell, he was panicking. He just had to find Tony. He had to.

Both spies replied with simple 'Alright's and 'Okay's, sharing a look before going off to deliver his commands while checking around to see if there were any poor souls that needed their assistance. Steve's gone off to look for that one brunette that always seemed to be getting in trouble. With a throbbing headache and hell-giving rib, he goes on to search for his lovely idiot.

---

"Steve!" Natasha's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Yeah?" "It's Tony. We found him." She sounded almost breathless as if she just ran a marathon. Three, actually. "What? Where?" He asks, his heart suddenly picking up the speed as he leaves the injured man he pulled out from under some rubble in the care of the parademics, turning to take another scan of the field where a major clean-up process organized by SHIELD was taking place. "Your three o'clock. Parademics are taking care of him. He's breathing, but..." Her worry was palpable by the way she speaks, and at that, Steve suddenly felt like he wasn't going to like what he was about to discover. Was it bad? What happened to him? "I think you should see for yourself. It's not that horrible, but it's... Something." She didn't know how to say it. She didn't want to be the one to deliver the bad news. "Yeah, okay. I'm coming." Comes his simple reply, voice breaking, spotting the redhead near a group of uniformed parademics who offered a small wave at the captain. The blonde jogs his way over, worry and fear becoming more and more noticeable as he got closer. The Iron Man suit lies near a pile of rubble, lifeless, the blue in its eyes, reactor and repulsors non-existent. A large chunk of the titanium-alloy armor was missing, probably shot off. In other words, it was in pretty bad shape. And then there was Tony himself, eyes closed, breathing slow and not so steady, blood staining the ripped clothes he barely managed to throw on before the battle was called, red staining the side of his head, seeping out onto the ground where he lay. There was quite a lot of bustle as they worked to track the brunette's wounds and give them attention, which they did in record time. Steve's heart practically broke. In all the battles they've fought together, he's never seen Tony in this state, and that was beyond terrifying. Natasha appeared beside the taller blonde, smiling rather sadly. "I'm sorry, Steve. He'll be alright. He'll be back to himself in no time, alright?" She says, in a fruitless effort to comfort him. The supersoldier couldn't speak, so he simply nodded, eyes still set on the brunette in the parademics' care.

The next few hours were a blur of activity. The EMTs taking Tony into an ambulance, requesting a teammate to tag along (Steve did just that, telling the others to still report to Fury on their behalf, asked them to tell the director what had happened, that he would get in touch as soon as news comes available), the brunette being taken to the OR, leaving the Captain to wait anxiously. He was seated on one of the armchairs set against the wall, bothered by the fact that he was still wearing his uniform, not as clean as he'd like to be. He received some treatment for his own minor wounds (well, as minor as a broken rib can go), and he was very much thankful for that despite knowing they would be gone in a few hours. The blonde's shield rests against the wall, occupying the empty space behind him as he fiddles with the pages of those magazines the hospital provided, trying his best to reassure himself that Tony would walk away from this just fine. Occasionally, a child and an adult would enter the room, with the kid eyeing the supersoldier curiously, probably wondering why he was here, of all places. At least, that's what he assumed. He did hear about some children talking about how superheroes didn't need anyone to give them medical attention because they were so 'cool' and 'strong'. It didn't make much sense, but he let them believe what they want to believe.

Time went on, and Steve spent it suffering quietly with everyone that went in and out of the waiting room. He was growing restless, but he refused to leave Tony. He will wait as long as he needed to for Tony's reappearance.