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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin.

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life.

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes.

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart.

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance.

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along.

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him.

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past.

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost.

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in?

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply.

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin.

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text.

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story.

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life.

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg.

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful.

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking.

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes.

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day.

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing.

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought.

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either.

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling.

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor.

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road.

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time.

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party.

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully.

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this.

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you.

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed.

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday.

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year.

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well.

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure.

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting.

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings.

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals.

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount.

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed.

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!”

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension.

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks.

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you.

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time.

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you.

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets.

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question.

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it.

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours.

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on.

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites #hiiapl

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starrysebastians · 3 years

Text

Tis the damn season

Summary : On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other. I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 11k

Warnings : general sadness, mentions of death and strained family relationships, but holiday fluff to make up for it.

A/n : this was written for @wonderlandmind4's fall winter challenge, thank you for hosting this! (Got carried away with the word count while simultaneously having no inspiration and writing utter shit I'm genuinely sorry about this?????)

"God I hate this damn season and everything about it."

The sound of pebbles aggressively kicked by your foot is drowned out by the driver's door being slammed shut. It echoes around the empty street, morning fog still lingering in the air even in the early afternoon. A white cloud escapes your lips as you sigh, emptying all of your lungs' air before breathing in once again, and your eyes follow the shape — up, up, until it vanishes into the air and you are left staring at a familiar bay window. The curtain moves before you can even begin to turn your gaze away and a curse escapes your lips.

"Think they saw us?" His tone is dripping with irony.

Bucky is leaning against the car, arms crossed against his broad chest and his face as blank as your mind when you try to think about why you chose to do this. In the small moment of contemplation you were having, you didn't even notice him walk around the car and stand next to you.

"Nah, impossible," you say deadpan as a hand waves behind the glass. You stare at it silently before you talk again."We can still make a run for it."

You don't move as Bucky pushes himself off the car and opens the trunk, bags all held in his metal hand. The trunk slams shut and he is already crossing the road leading to the front lawn.

"I was being serious!" You call out, huffing when he turns around and glares at you.

Throwing up your arms and letting them fall back at your sides with a heavy sigh, you begrudgingly lock the car and walk towards the house — it seems so much smaller to you now.

"Of course they put Christmas decorations literally everywhere," you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling a wave of holiday hatred hitting you at full speed.

Bucky eyes you for a second before knocking on the door, a horrified expression distorting your features when the word wait doesn't get to be voiced out loud. His eyes are more grey than usual, matching the sky, and they hold a twinkle of amusement at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes looking up at the sky as if some sort of alien could possibly appear and whisk you far away from here.

It's intriguing, seeing you this way — in your hometown, nervous about spending Thanksgiving with your parents. Nervous isn't the right word though, because he thinks he has never seen you nervous before ; there are actually a lot of emotions he hasn't seen you display yet. Not that he has a reason to, actually, because he only sees you when you are visiting Sam at their new headquarters, or when you are helping out on a mission. So really, he has only seen you laughing at Sam's jokes, or being angry at armed criminals. And what is left between those two extreme moods are mostly you being silent or passive-agressive — although the passive-aggressiveness is reserved for him, he has noticed.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice makes you want to wince and you purse your lips, a poor attempt at smiling. Bucky had stepped behind you after having knocked on the door and you are at the forefront of every attack.

Arms feel strange and foreign around you, a warmth you are not used to anymore. You can't really feel your hands as you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, patting your parents' back as your gaze rests upon the staircase, so many memories rushing to your mind at once.

"Hi," you say simply, taking a step back and crossing your arms. You clear your throat, leaning closer to Bucky, your arm brushing his. This is what a regular person would do, right? "This is James."

You don't really pay attention to the way your mother's arms engulf Bucky — poor guy. Their voices are just noise to you as you step around them and walk to the living room. We have been dying to meet you. Y/N has been keeping you hidden from us for so long. We are so glad to have you here, James. Slow and careful steps, eyes taking it all in — the green walls, the fireplace, the old rug and the stains you've made, the painting you've always found disturbing. It smells just the same. You run your hands across every surface, fingers lingering on cold wood.

"It's a good thing that you're here early. I'll show you to your room and you can settle in, rest a little." You turn around lazily, lids heavy with the weight of nostalgia and old visions. Your mother's hand is resting on Bucky's forearm, probably because his shoulder was out of reach, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wonder if he is uncomfortable being touched like this by your parents or if it is something else. "You must have had a long ride."

Bucky opens his mouth and you cut him off before he can even begin to utter a single word, eyes boring into his with a warning.

"We did. Exhausting. Lots of traffic." You have faked enough yawns in your life to fool even your own parents — then again, how long has it been since they last saw you? And it takes little effort to conclude that you and Bucky will rest in your room for a while before coming down and helping with dinner preparations.

The stairs creak under your feet and you smile a little at the sound. Your room smells like old wood, rays of light playing with dust particles around you. An old fluffy carpet, pastel tones and white walls, very few decoration. Some pictures — pictures of artists you used to like, empty postcards, not personal ones. These ones have been taken off the wall years and years ago.

The mattress dips under your weight as you slump down on your bed, fingers moving on their own to stroke a soft blanket. Bucky closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the almost empty walls. The thought of you and him in your old room and sharing your bed finally crosses your mind.

"M’gonna go for a walk," you suddenly say, getting up from the bed in a swift movement. You don’t walk towards the door, but towards the window instead.

"O...kay," Bucky drawls out. He watches as you open the window, grunting as it requires some forceful pulling. "Is this a secret code for...I’m gonna jump out the window and die so I can avoid my parents?"

You snicker, closing your eyes and breathing in as the icy air finally hits your face. Tendrils of hair fly around your features and tickle your skin. You turn around, fingers putting your hair back into place, strands tucked behind your ears.

"I wish," you almost don’t add anything, but Bucky looks so utterly lost and confused as you throw a leg outside that you have to. "I used to sneak out of here all the time. It’s safe, there’s a big ledge and then I land on the guest room's balcony."

"When are you getting back?" He only asks, pushing his body off the wall and going to sit down on the spot you were occupying just a minute before.

"In time. Don’t worry," this time you’re fully out of the room, feet expertly walking on the ledge. "If they knock just say I’m asleep." You stop in your tracks, voice louder. "And don’t go through my stuff. I’ll know and I’ll kill you."

Bucky’s still sitting on the bed when you get back, your hair slightly damp and frizzy from the humidity and the small drizzle outside. Cheeks and nose reddened by the cold and eyes brighter now that you have breathed in some fresh air, that isn't the air from New-York, something purer with a familiar smell.

"I’ve been gone two hours. Please tell me you’ve got up at least once," you mock, bending down to untie your shoelaces and avoid making mud stains all over the carpet. This floor has suffered enough over the years.

"No. I’ve been sitting there waiting for you like the good dog that I am." His voice dripping with sarcasm, you roll your eyes. "Told them you were asleep and blocked the door in case they wanted to check on you."

You raise your head slowly, squinting at him.

"So...you talked to them?"

He stares back with a bored expression.

"Yes. I’ve talked to them. I'm spending Thanksgiving with them and sleeping in their house, so I figured maybe I could behave like a civilized person and say hi, you know." You blink. "Plus, I'm your boyfriend." You blink again.

"You didn't have to talk to them so soon. We've got all night," you mumble, now going for your socks.

"I've endured far worse than having a full conversation with someone's parents, Y/N," he chuckles and your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Right."

Bucky looks at you, really looks at you. Hands going through your hair and gripping it a little too tight as you try to weave your fingers through knots and tangled strands — wind still raging outside. Dark shadows under your lashes from having rubbed your eyes in exhaustion and forgetting you had mascara on. Jaw ticking every now and then as your eyes bore into an empty spot, and he doesn't know if you are staring at an actual object or at something that only exists in your mind.

"Have they asked anything about us?" You say, sitting down on the floor and next to your travel bag.

"The usual. How we met, how long we’ve been together…that sort of thing."

Your stomach twists and you look up, alarmed.

"Oh god. What did you tell them? I forgot to make something up. We should have discussed this in the car, I just forgot." You run your hands through your tangled hair, again. "Fuck."

"It’s okay," Bucky’s eyes follow your every move as you rummage through your bag to find another top, fingers pulling on a soft black fabric. "I told them we met through Sam. And obviously they knew who he was — who I was, so I assumed they knew about you too." There’s an interrogation in his voice and you simply nod in confirmation. "So we talked about our jobs, mostly."

"Exciting," you comment sardonically. "And how long have we been dating?"

"Told them we started dating before the snap."

You freeze, hands still resting on your black top, a slightly sheer and shiny material you thought would be more festive.

"So…definitely more than five years," you start, and he nods in response. "And...that means I visited Wakanda, right?"

He thinks for a second.

"Right. Yeah."

You hum again.

"Not very practical. I’ve never been to Wakanda."

"Now you have a problem with accuracy?"

You glare at him.

"No. Just saying. We could have met in New-York. Would have been simpler. That's all."

"Right. Two months ago and it was love at first sight so you’re already bringing me home to your parents — whom you haven’t seen in years. Makes sense." You clench your jaw and he raises a brow, sparkling blue eyes taunting you.

Glaring at him one last time, you turn around and face the wall.

"First of all, we didn’t meet two months ago," you start undoing the buttons of the cardigan you are wearing. "I'd definitely remember if I had only been enduring your presence for two months." He scoffs behind you.

You pull your cardigan over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Some deodorant and you grab the festive top. Bucky stares at your back for a second, soft skin covered in small beauty spots and old scars, defined muscles in action grabbing his full attention. Your neck, the way your hair brushes up your shoulders, the glimpse at your breasts and the curve of your waist — he focuses his gaze on the window instead. An afternoon sky blanketed by dark grey clouds, a promise of rain and a mirror of what he guesses is an internal turmoil.

"And?"

"And what?" You face him again, fitted dark fabric clinging to your body.

"You said first of all. I’m assuming there’s a second part." Brow quirked and smirk slowly lifting the left corner of his mouth, he watches your face fall.

"There isn’t," he nods, full mocking smile on his lips now. "I actually like using first of all knowing there’s nothing else I have to add. It’s a figure of speech."

He scoffs, shaking his head.

"It’s not."

"It is now," you stand up, brushing your hands against your thighs. You are now dressed in all black and it looks like you are going on a mission. You are, somehow. "Are you gonna change for tonight?"

"What, is it that ugly?" Bucky looks down at his outfit.

Fitted blue sweater and black jeans with dark combat boots. You know he had cut his hair right after...everything, but it has grown out again and you’re surprised to find curls. You don’t notice him looking up, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon the blue of his sweater and the way it hugs his chest. He clears his throat and you meet his gaze — curious.

"No, it’s not," you force a smile. "It’s very nice, actually. Brings out your eyes." You sigh, turning around and grabbing your toilet bag and makeup.

"I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not right now," Bucky frowns. Isn’t it part of the job description to know whether people are being genuine or not? Aren’t spies supposed to know that kind of thing? He never can tell with you. Everything you say has that kind of monotonous tone and it's either ironic or deadly serious.

You let out a light chuckle as you enter the bathroom. "I’m not making fun of you, Barnes. Blue looks good on you."

You stare at your reflection for a second. Pale skin and dark circles, the remnants of a fight barely visible because your hair is hiding the last remaining scar. The door to the bathroom was left open and you catch Bucky’s gaze in the mirror.

He busies himself with his bag, going through his stuff and deeming perfume to be the only necessary adjustment to his current state. Fingers scratching an unshaven throat, he calls out your name, meeting your eyes again in the mirror. You only hum.

"Should I call you babe for the weekend?"

Your hand halts mid-air, makeup brush just a few centimeters away from your skin.

"What?"

"Well. We’re selling this thing. What about PDA, that sort of thing?"

You laugh again, and this time it sounds really genuine to him. High and full of disbelief.

"Didn’t think you were familiar with the term PDA," you shake your head to yourself while he rolls his eyes. "But to answer your question — " you turn to look directly at him, complexion brighter and cheeks rosier. "— call me babe and you won't live to see another day. "

"Why have someone pretend to be your boyfriend if you're just gonna act like he's your friend?"

"Barnes. You think you have to exchange saliva with me in front of my parents for them to believe we’re together? Me bringing you here is already huge, trust me."

He stares at your back. Dropping the subject.

"Should I shave?" You don't need to look at him to answer confidently.

"No. I love a man with a stubble."

You finish your makeup in silence as he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dinner that awaits him. He is curious about you and your family. Not a lot of people in this field still have their parents, or at least are being honest about what they do for a living. But mostly he is curious about you, someone he has been getting used to working or training with, but not holding casual conversations or doing simple things.

A week earlier

Bucky raises a brow as Sam answers his phone. It’s eight in the morning and they just returned from their morning job, among fog and drizzle, the sun slowly rising over New York City and filtering through Central Park's trees and half-empty branches. It is not as cold as it should be for this time of the year, but he can still feel the early morning air biting at his face, even inside the apartment. Sometimes after a run he has breakfast with Sam, when they haven’t bickered so much on the way over that Bucky decided to run home instead.

"I cannot deal with this amount of bad energy in the morning. Come over," Sam laughs and Bucky stares at his mug of coffee while his mind goes though every possibility.

And when Sam opens the door and you step in, he goes back to staring at his mug, only watching your every move from the corner of his eye. You do look agitated for someone who probably woke up less than an hour ago.

"I can’t." The new Captain America shakes his head and you grab him by the shoulders, hands looking so small.

"Sam. I wasn’t asking. This is not an option."

"We’re having a Thanksgiving dinner at the VA, I can’t ditch the guys," he says and you groan, head thrown back.

You plop down on a bar stool, the one across Bucky, and you only nod at him as a hello. He rolls his eyes — typical. He is hunched over the kitchen counter, plate of pancakes drowned in maple syrup placed in front of him. You stare as he picks up his fork and knife and starts eating, following every mouthful with empty eyes.

He almost opens his mouth to snap at you before you slightly shake your head and turn to the window to your left. The beginning of fall doesn't feel like it is supposed to — yellows and oranges and reds could be a palette of grey and you wouldn't even notice the difference. It's not the same anymore.

"Why do you absolutely have to bring someone anyway?" You sigh as Sam asks.

"They think I have a long-time partner."

"Why would they think you have a long-time partner when I've never even seen you hold a conversation with a guy?" Bucky comments.

"First of all, you've been gone five years. I'd shut up if I were you." You scowl, lips almost curling up in anger when you whirl around to glare at him. "Second of all, you're not exactly a god in that area either."

"Well I have been gone for five years, I've got an excuse," he shrugs with a smirk and you eye the table where they are sitting at, pastries and pancakes, fruits and hot beverages, full glasses. "Throw that glass of water at my face and I'll kill you."

You hold his gaze for a second and purse your lips, eyes turning away as you sit down and rest your elbows on the wooden surface, permanent frown etched on your face.

"They think they've missed five years of my life, I had a moment of…weakness. Didn't have the heart to tell them I was still single." You look out the window again. The wind howls loudly and a chill runs across your spine even though you're perfectly warm inside. "I think I'm gonna say he died."

You don't pay attention to the small beat of silence that follows your sentence — a silence that is interrupted by Bucky's fork scratching against his plate. You scowl at him.

"You're gonna say what now?"

You shrug at Sam.

"Then I don't have to explain why we broke up. And since I will spend years recovering my mom won't think of bothering me with boyfriend talk for a while." Which seems like a rather logical and practical plan to you, underserving of such funny looks.

"You can't just make up someone and then say they died, Y/N."

"I don't see why not. A lot of people have died recently, I can easily get away with it." The way you speak and shrug, it's all innocent and casual, but your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look and stare at each other for a second as if a simple blink was enough for them to communicate their exact thoughts. You almost feel jealous.

"Just take someone else. I’m sure some of your friends have nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

Something heavy settles on your chest as you think of the people you would have loved to take home to your parents. Tony would have been impressive — albeit older and, well, married with a child. But your parents would have been starstruck. And Natasha would have seduced them right away. One foot into the threshold and they would have swooned at her feet, hanging onto her every word. Steve would have made the perfect boyfriend — the ideal american sweetheart, thoughtful and selfless, not the kind of person who would let you down. Not the kind of person who would leave everything behind.

When your silence has stretched for a little too long, you clear your throat, tightening your hold around a steaming cup of tea that you assumed was meant for you. Sam is now sitting next to you and you hadn't even realized he had moved while contemplating how lonely your life was. Bucky is staring at you with an unreadable expression and you shrug, again.

"I don't really have anyone else to bring. But that's okay. I'll stick to my story," you give Sam a woeful smile. "They'll think I'm sad and avoid annoying me for the whole evening so really I couldn't ask for a better story."

You stretch your arm in order to reach the plate of pancakes, but your fingers barely graze it. Bucky silently pushes it towards you and you simply purse your lips. It looks like a smile, right? Drowning your pancakes in syrup just like he did five minutes ago, you sit up straighter and exhale. Then your tone changes. "Anyway."

Sam crosses his arms and nods at Bucky. Blue eyes fixed upon the dark-skinned man’s face, he already knows.

"Bucky doesn’t have anything planned for Thanksgiving," he starts and you keep chewing. "You should take him. I’m told he’s great boyfriend material."

You slowly look up, skeptic look on your face.

"I feel like you could sabotage me at dinner and I do not want that. The whole thing’s annoying enough as it is."

He shrugs. Too bad. Sam’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger and Bucky sighs, setting his fork on the counter and leaning back. The leather squeaks under his weight and he clears his throat. The noise makes you raise your head and you look at him curiously.

"I’ll behave."

You stay silent for a little while as Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly. Is he better than making up someone and then saying they died? You think about it, and the chance of your mother not leaving you alone and looking at you with pity instead suddenly crosses your mind. Not good. Not your plan.

"Okay," you resign. Your pancakes don’t taste as good as they did before you said yes. Bucky and you have probably exchanged ten full sentences ever since you met, and they weren’t necessarily sweet. It is not that you don’t get along or fight — you work well together, actually. But he’s not your friend either. And sometimes, most of the time, you can’t help but feel something akin to anger build up in your chest when you look at him and see Steve instead.

The table is pretty. Red and green, matching the decorations hung upon the fireplace and all over the house. Candles and elegant wine glasses. Christmas tree already up in the back of the living room, which you can still see from your spot at the table. The flickering lights and glittering garlands are a welcomed distraction to the people actually sitting in front of you, and you can't even remember the last time you had dinner with your parents. So formal.

You notice your mother stealing a glance at you before she fully turns her body towards Bucky. Fuck. You try to shoot her a warning glance but her sweet smile is already into place and there is nothing you can do except watch. You knew appetizers and amuse-bouches and your comments about their incredible taste would not be enough to keep the conversation from turning more personal, but you didn't think it would be so soon.

"You know, this is the first Thanksgiving Y/N is spending with us." Bucky quirks a brow and you scoff in disbelief.

"This isn't true. I have distinct memories of yelling and burnt turkey. Where else would that be?" You deadpan, hand moving towards your glass before stopping mid-air, a single drop of red wine left starring back at you.

You hold back a groan, eyes flickering between the glass and the bottle. Should you maybe wait before getting a refill and not get any comments from your parents?

"I meant, this is the first Thanksgiving you're willingly spending with us. You were sixteen last time," your mother's voice holds the same irony, but hers is sad while yours sounds angry. Bucky steals a quick glance at you without ever moving his head, and smiles sweetly at your mother, as if trying to make up for your attitude. "Are you still in touch with your parents, James?"

"Oh god," you groan, hand on your forehead. "Mother."

You decide that possibly getting a comment about your drinking habits is worth it if drinking means not feeling this crushing weight of shame, embarrassment, and everything else. Bucky looks down at your arm as it emerges right in front of him — you don't spare him a glance, fingers curling up around the bottle and the sound of wine filling up your glass grows higher and higher until you stop. Even this can't drown out the conversation. Your dad's voice echoes from the other room, footsteps drawing closer.

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting how old James is."

You don't watch as Bucky probably smiles softly at your dad, then at your mom, and says it's fine. Red wine is pretty when it is swirling in a moving glass — it reminds you of fall, leaves twirling in the wind, the red lipstick you're wearing, but mostly blood.

Your mother is babbling out apologies and reaching out for Bucky's hand across the table and he is being so gentle and patient it makes you want to shake him by the shoulders and yell at him for being so good to them.

"We only heard from Y/N six months ago, actually."

"Well, you were gone before, so," you mutter, regretting every single choice that has lead you to this moment. Bucky perks up, eyes going quickly between your closed face and your parents, eyebrows drawing in a compassionate frown. Man, is he good at this.

"Were you both…taken by the snap?"

You sigh, turning your head to look out the window while Bucky and your parents talk about their shared experience, finger tracing the rim of your glass over and over again. For some the light around them and their alternate universe was all blue, others say it was a sort of ethereal shade of green. Some have non memory whatsoever of the whole experience and you wonder what it would have been like for you. You think that a minute in a world on literal fire would have been better than five years in the real one.

Natasha's world is probably made out of purple and red — you hear this is how Vormir looked. Pretty.

The rain suddenly hitting the bay window snaps you out of your quiet moment of contemplation. It was left slightly open and the sound of the wind blowing through swaying trees lulls your for a second, eyes unfocused.

Your name echoes around the dining room again and your gaze snaps to that of your mother.

"What?" You say in a sigh.

"Nothing!" Her tone is unusually high. "I was just explaining to your boyfriend how we reunited. You visiting us when everyone came back." She looks at Bucky again. "It was a big surprise."

You don’t meet his gaze, instead resting your elbows on the table and nuzzling your face in the palms of your hands. You probably should have kept being a ghost.

"A good one, I bet?" He keeps his tone light.

Your mom goes on about how they have missed you all this time and you resume playing with your glass. And maybe refill it a few times.

"Oh. We saw the ceremony you had for Steve Rogers with Captain...Captain America. It was very moving." Your dad tells Bucky with a compassionate frown and you purse your lips. You almost want to put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder — his hand, his thigh, anything to give him some sort of comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to move your own hand. Everything feels really heavy.

In your opinion, it’s actually a good thing that Steve died so soon. He had first been a man out of time when he woke up in 2011, and managed to adapt. Even said he wouldn’t go back because the past was the past. Right. But coming back an old man, having lived another full life while your friends remain the same? This wasn’t right, for anyone. With Tony and Natasha gone, you would rather have Steve be gone as well. Can’t really move on if something is still holding you back — now they’re all definitely gone.

Your chair scratches the wooden floor as you stand up on almost-wobbly legs.

"M’gonna check on the turkey." Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own and your throat hurts.

Voices are drown out as you close the kitchen door, back resting against it for a moment. The room is hot even though the window has been left open. You breathe in and out slowly, taking in the smell of pies and spices. You walk towards the window, slowly, taking it all in as you calm down. Nothing is in its usual place. Scattered utensils over every surface, traces of flour and sugar on the table and bottles which haven't been closed. Something makes you jump and it's a pan is overflowing.

There are only a few seconds left on the oven's timer. Pan situation under control, oven gloves on both hands, you think maybe cooking more for yourself would take your mind off things. You almost sigh in contentment as the warmth from the plate spreads through your hands, arms and even radiates through your chest.

All sorts of pies litter the kitchen table, cinnamon, clove and ginger invading your senses. All of you is consumed by spices and sounds of domestic life and it looks so homey but you can't bring yourself to feel at home. This whole day has been like being in a dream, floating through life, childhood and Thanksgiving memories like an intruder. Seeing yourself move around but not being able to control or truly touch anything.

You see yourself with the turkey between your gloved-hand, red lipstick and pretty outfit hugging your body. You see yourself ten years ago, dressed in a red dress and hair cascading down your back, laughing hysterically as you set a turkey down on a large wooden table, candles lighting up your friends' eyes. Seven years ago, in that deep green jumpsuit — the color of Natasha's eyes, Tony had said all night. Six years ago, in that matching Christmas jumper and soft socks in which you kept slipping on the cabin's floor. Five years ago and the years following the snap when everything was dark and hopeless and you had lost so much but you still had Natasha and Tony and Steve.

Every single bittersweet Thanksgiving memory plays out right before your blurry eyes, like a film. A compilation of every celebration shared between loved ones, your chosen family. And it feels so lonely without your best friends and half of the team you used to be.

Your hands shake as you go to set the plate down on the kitchen table — it's greasy and slippery and your hands are starting to burn so you don't even feel the glove slowly slipping.

Fuck.

It takes a moment to be fully registered.

"Fuck!"

On the other side of the door, Bucky’s cough is enough to cover a string of colorful curses and the cracks and tears in your voice. Your hands are as wet as your cheeks and you drop to your knees, muttering shit shit and shit all over again under your breath.

The plate clatters against the floor as you set it beside the turkey. Too loud. The minute your mother enters this kitchen you are a dead woman. "Shit."

Footsteps draw closer and heavier and you curse again, hands greasy and knees hurting from hitting the tiles. Somehow your fingers won’t grasp the turkey’s correctly and it keeps slipping back to the floor.

The door creaks open and you whirl around, eyes wide open and a strings of excuses ready. But Bucky stands here, hands in his back closing the door behind him and keeping anyone from seeing what is happening inside the kitchen. Mouth agape and tear tracks probably visible on your face, you finally close your mouth to gulp, turning your back to him and breathing in and out as quietly as possible.

Which is probably not quiet enough for someone whose ears are more than human.

You sniffle. Bucky stares at your back, hand still securing the doorknob. He doesn’t really know how to proceed with you, so he takes a few quiet steps forward. He clears his throat.

"I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?"

This is so stupid.

"Bucky. The turkey’s on the floor. Literally."

"Yeah. I can see that," he eyes you, gauging your expression. Your eyes are dead set on the animal and hands still hovering over it, not quite stable. "It’s okay. They won’t know. I made noise when you dropped it."

"You did?" Your voice is smaller than usual and he bats your hands away from the turkey, grabbing it with his metal hand.

"Yeah. Coughed so hard your mom almost stood up to keep me from choking." You gape at him. He smiles at your stunned expression and the turkey is back in its plate, looking perfectly normal. Your hands are still greasy and you don't know what to do with them.

"Hey," Bucky's voice is softer than it usually is. Or maybe you never really noticed it was soft in the first place. "Look at me."

You change positions and rest your back against a cupboard, closing your eyes for a second before re-opening them. Crouching down to your level, he studies your face as you wipe off remaining tears with your sleeve. Flushed cheeks and quivering lips, wet lashes and a crease between your eyebrows. You hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. There is a kind of intensity, determination in his eyes as he searches into yours. You aren't sure what he is looking for — maybe he is trying to find the right words, but eventually he just sighs and fully sits down in front of you. He is probably annoyed.

You bite down on your lip as your throat swells again, sudden shame washing over you. Having a meltdown is not something you do. Not when you are on your own, not in front of your friends and certainly not in front of a friend of a friend, even when his presence has become something usual and almost comforting to you as you hide it between rolled eyes and silence. Sometimes it's nice to visit Sam and have a trio again, even if it is not the trio you are used to. When you close your eyes and listen to the voices around you or when your vision is hazy, the mere idea of feeling surrounded is already comforting.

"M'sorry, this is stupid," you mutter, throwing your head back to have it rest against the cupboard. The bang echoes in your ears and Bucky slides a bit closer.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "Take your time."

He is so gentle in everything that he does. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes searching into yours but never once displaying pity, as if everything was perfectly normal. It isn't to you, but he seems so relaxed and unbothered. The way he speaks softly and expresses nothing but patience and serenity, the way his flesh hand slowly moves closer to your leg and almost hovers above your skin.

You sigh, head banging against the cupboard again, and spread your legs a little bit further. The right one brushes against his limb and he hesitates for a moment. Another look at you and his hand is resting on your calf. The warmth seeps through your black jeans and at this particular moment it comes back to you that you used to love being touched.

"I can't believe I dropped the fucking turkey," you say flatly. Bucky blinks slowly at you, the only proof that he heard you. He doesn't think he should talk and break your train of thoughts right now. "This isn't…what I normally do. On Thanksgiving. I've never spent Thanksgiving here. I mean, after I moved out."

Bucky's fingers move slowly against your leg, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as you start talking. You purse your lips, somehow wanting to keep your mouth shut but feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting on the floor with his thumb brushing over your jeans-clad skin. You look down, eyes following his fingers before focusing on your own, still numbly resting at your side.

"Yeah, that's what your mom was saying earlier," Bucky nods, eying your hands as well.

On your left, there is this hook with towels hanging from it. His arm is long enough for him to grab one without having to get up. You don't respond, instead staring at the tiles and the space between your legs. You don't seem to notice when he hands you the towel, so he slowly moves his flesh hand towards yours. The loss of warmth makes you look down to your calf, stomach dropping a little when his fingers aren't dancing on your skin anymore.

"What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?"

You blink. He grabs your arms, hands sliding from your forearm to your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse point longer than he should. Then his hands are cupping yours, gently turning your palms upwards. There is this small beat of silence and tension where both of you are looking at your almost intertwined hands as if you were not their owners, as if they were moving on their own and you could only watch as this unfolded before your eyes.

Should he let go?

"I always spend it with Natasha." Your voice breaks the moment. His gaze snaps up but you're staring into the void again. "We have this tradition." You blink. Once, twice. Slowly, kind of like a cat. "Had. We used to rent a cabin, somewhere remote and snowy, and Tony used to come as well. Well, before he had Morgan. Then we used to come to his house and have this big dinner with him and Pepper, sometimes Clint and his family."

Your gaze drops to your hand in his, one holding it up and the other wiping the oily substance away. Every movement seems so soft and gentle it makes your brain go fuzzy for a second.

"That sounds really nice." Bucky comments softly, going for the other hand.

"Steve came sometimes," you add, and he quirks a brow in surprise. "When everyone was taken away. Sometimes he held a little something at the VA, but we had him over once or twice." You nod. "It was nice."

Bucky simply nods. Your hands don't shine with turkey grease anymore, and it physically pains him to let go of your hands. For a second he thinks you are about to hold his tighter and keep him from prying off his fingers, but his ears suddenly pick up movement, and the way his posture visibly changes makes you snap out of it. Back straighter, eyes wider, shoulders squared.

"Shit."

He is quicker than you and stands near the door to tell your mom that the turkey’s ready — you’re on your feet again even if you have to grip the counter’s edge for a second so your legs don't give out under your weight. His body is blocking your mother's view of the kitchen and you can only hear her voice.

"Look at her, making us Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend," she tells your dad and you snicker.

"Look at her making us eat a turkey she dropped on the floor!" You singsong, pressing the heel of your hands to your cheeks as you try to make the red disappear.

"Now this is girlfriend material," Bucky mocks. The door is closed again and he takes a few steps towards you, the turkey being right next to where your hand is set.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation and he smiles. He is only a foot away from you and you wonder if the warmth you are feeling is real or if it is your imagination, your mind and chest aching for comfort again. Touch is a vicious and dangerous thing when you can still feel it linger on your skin well after it is gone.

Metal hand reaching for the plate and body almost trapping you against the counter while you fix your gaze on anything but him, Bucky freezes for a moment — he meant to grab the plate and turn around, but this does feel intimate.

"Hey," he breaks the silence and you have to look up. In this instant, you want to take a mental picture and remember exactly how he looks. Light shining into his eyes, illuminated the tip of his perfectly carved nose and cheekbones. Pink lips parted and tongue swiping over them. Could this be nervousness?

You raise your chin, biting the inside of your cheek and fighting to maintain eye-contact. He is so close that you cannot help but being distracted by his smell, the way your chests would touch if you just pushed yourself off the counter, the way you want to feel cornered and caged if it means resting your cheek against his chest and having his arms around you.

Fuck.

"You gonna be okay?"

You wonder if his senses can pick up your internal turmoil. If he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage, the quickened and shaky breaths. You fold your arms and hug yourself, a poor attempt at gaining back some control over yourself.

"M'fine," you mutter. He doesn't look convinced and still hasn't moved. You lower your head, the remnants of previous haircut mistakes and bangs falling over your eyes. "Really."

"Yeah?"

You look up again, mustering up a smile.

"Yeah. A little meltdown can work wonders for a girl."

He chuckles and you have never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in your entire life, but you blame it on the emotional rollercoaster this day has been. You almost flinch as Bucky raises his hand but exhale as his fingers graze your cheeks, moving your hair out of your eyes.

Your mother calls your name and you sigh. Bucky brings out the turkey and you set the side dishes on the table, carefully avoiding the candles and almost squishing a green garland. It's a perfect picture, you and him stepping out of the kitchen in tandem and smiling down at your parents as they congratulate you on the turkey — this is probably a picture you had in mind as a child. Something out of a romantic comedy.

You sit down and Bucky's hands linger on your shoulders, thumbs stroking exposed skin and your neck. You raise your head, leaning back in your chair to meet his gaze. Should you put your hand on his? Should you smile and gaze lovingly at him — isn't that what you are already doing? He bents down, softly kissing your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear.

"Let's sell this thing, shall we?"

You step out of the bathroom, silky pajamas hugging your figure and wet hair sending shivers down your back. You sigh heavily, feeling the need to seek warmth but not having enough energy. Your arms are at your sides and your bare feet have a hard time moving.

Bucky stares at the carpet as drops of water trickle down your hair and slowly form a dark spot at your feet. His gaze travels back to your face, eyebrow quirked. You look absolutely drained, with your lips slightly parted and the way you blink slowly, as if your eyelids weighted tons.

"If they ask us to stay for lunch tomorrow," you begin, slowly approaching the bed. "Please say we have a mission."

Bucky gives you a small nod. You sit down on the bed or rather let your body drop unceremoniously and lay down, hands on your stomach and eyes glued to the white ceiling. The mattress moves with Bucky and you hear him rest his back on the bed's head. Creaky wood that won't stop making noise.

"Well," Bucky starts, looking down at your form. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You slowly peel your gaze off the ceiling, body and face still as your gaze moves to his face, his eyes already on yours.

"I don't have the strength to answer you right now."

His shoulder shake and so does the bed. You groan.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"Why did you decide to contact your parents after all this time?"

"Did you hear me say no?"

He gives you a half shrug and you sigh, rolling so you are lying on your stomach, elbows propped up on the mattress. Bucky knows this means you are going to talk, and he sits up straighter, intrigued.

"Everyone was gone," you say simply, fingers drumming mindlessly on your cheek. "It was…utter and complete chaos everywhere. You're lucky you didn't get to see it. Just to go out in the streets, enter a coffee shop and see the look on people's faces…" You don't finish your sentence, eyes fixed upon Bucky's torso but mind miles away from your room. His shoulders sag as he takes in your expression. "And I felt lucky I still had Natasha, and Steve. And Tony. I was so lucky compared to others — sometimes I helped Steve out with his therapy meetings and I just…hearing about other people's loss…I wondered about my parents, somehow. I drove all the way up here and the house was so silent and empty, I just knew." You shrug, lowering your gaze to numbly observe the patterns on your sheets. "We've never been close, and I thought I didn't care about them the way I've always felt like they didn't care about me, but when I realized they weren't here anymore…they're still my parents, you know?" Not expecting you to look up at him, Bucky is at a loss for words when you bite your lip and go silent as if you were waiting for an answer.

You swallow thickly.

"So when everyone came back, I had this urge to make sure they did too. And now we're here," you purse your lips. "Not sure this was a good idea."

Sometimes you think contacting them was a mistake. Yes, you felt an incommensurable sense of loss, standing in this empty house with the wooden floor creaking underneath your feet, dust flying and twirling around you, your reflection staring mockingly at you whenever you passed a mirror. Too late. Visiting your childhood home was the moment it all came rushing back to you ; the moment your mind finally caught up with reality and you simply crumbled. Orphan, half of your friends turned into dust, a whole world of shades of grey and not an ounce of hope. But spending Thanksgiving here doesn't give you the comfort or closure you thought it would. Being here and feeling like a stranger in your own home, bringing a fake boyfriend, having to sit through celebrations when there is nothing left to celebrate on this earth for you.

"They looked happy to see you."

Your chest tightens for a moment. It's somewhere between guilt and longing.

"Yeah, I guess," you give him a half shrug. Your face is resting right next to his thighs and you stare for a moment. Another barely perceptible movement and the headboard squeaks again. You almost let your face fall on his thighs when heavily groaning. He laughs and it gets worse.

"Well at least it's gonna be easy to convince them we really are a couple, right babe?" He says, deadpan. You look up at him through your lashes, sly smile on your face, a force of habit. Striking blue eyes staring back at you, perfectly sculpted face and a smirk on his plump lips. It would be so easy to pretend this is a normal scene from a domestic life. The creases around your mouth disappears as you blink a sort of haze away.

The moment passes and you busy yourself with the laptop you brought, while Bucky stalks to the bathroom. The sound of water running manages to soothe you, weight on your chest slowly dwindling and breaths coming in lighter. It's a white noise lulling you to sleep. You lazily brush your hair and slide into bed, covers pulled to your chin and body stiff as the cold from the sheets seep into your bones for a long moment.

The shower curtain rattles, bottles clink against the sink and water runs again with the sound of a toothbrush. You turn on your side, chin tucked to your chest and arms under your pillows, scared to stretch out your legs and meet a biting cold again. The bathroom door opens and you relish the very small amount of warm steam reaching you.

The bed dips and you keep your eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want me out of your bed?" You don't know how many times he has asked this question. You only hum, too tired to voice your thoughts out loud. You feel the covers being lifted and shiver — could it be his thigh brushing against yours?

His mere nearness already warms the bed up and you silently thank a higher presence for the super soldier serum.

"God you're like a personal heater," you mutter, faced squished against your pillow, body moving closer to his on its own until warmth has engulfed you and you can finally extend your legs, feet reaching the end of the bed.

"Mh, I get that a lot," you feel his chest rumble next to you and you hum in response, something between contentment and an attempt to hide a blooming sensation in your chest.

You get closer again, face now pressed against his arm, cheek to warm and toned flesh. It doesn't take long for his arm to move, a frown etched on your features before they ease up again as he guides your face to his chest. An arm snaking around your shoulders and holding you closer, a chest rising and falling with deep and even breaths, a back and forth that rocks you.

You can't even remember the last time you felt this at peace. This warm and safe, arms secured around you like a cocoon, the smell of your childhood and his cologne mixing together. And it hits your half-asleep brain that you had craved this all along, all those years of darkness and loss.

"M'sorry," you murmur, your lips moving against his chests and your words barely discernible. "Just really need this right now."

His fingers linger on your back, hand sliding down to rest on your waist. Squeezing, thumb stroking your skin, fingers tracing random shapes. You shift, your own arm laying on his stomach, almost hugging him like a pillow or a big stuffed animal. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, legs tangling with his.

"It's okay." His voice is smooth, quiet. "Me too."

Eyes bleary and squinting to adjust to the light, you hold on to the banister as you wobble down the stairs. Voices echo around the living room and you frown. It's only eight.

You still as Bucky's laugh reaches your ears and hurry down the remaining steps. The morning light shines through the windows, surprisingly blue and clear skies facing you. Red and green lights dance around the living room's walls, reflections from the Christmas Tree's decoration. Lips parted in awe, you linger for a moment. The atmosphere is different from last night, it feels lighter. It's not just that the downpour has been replaced by a blue sky and what seems to be a perfect fall day — ice cold but the sun still shining. You feel lighter.

"Hey." You whirl around. You didn't notice Bucky approaching you. Coking his head to the side, he looks at you with an unreadable expression. "You planning on spending the day standing here?"

"Tempting," you give him a half shrug, and he extends his flesh hand towards you, palm up and inviting.

"We made breakfast," he says as you rest you put your hand in his warily.

"We?"

The smell of bacon hits you when you enter the dining room, a table full of pancakes and pies greeting you. Steaming cups of coffee, a teapot — Bucky discreetly tugs you closer to him, hot breath on your cheek.

"You prefer tea in the morning, right?" It is whispered as not to draw suspicions towards the fact that he knows nothing about you, but it takes you a moment to recover from the initial surprise of the gesture. You nod numbly, eyes fixed upon your intertwined fingers. When did you say it was okay for PDA?

The conversation flows more easily in the morning, the sight of a table this impressive and Bucky's touch lifting your spirits. You think life could be this easy all the time. This tranquil and domestic, a good night's sleep with someone and pancakes waiting for you in the morning. You smile as you talk about some of your most confusing missions, as you and Bucky tell stories about Sam. Albeit a bit pained, but it's something.

Leaving your parents after breakfast isn't as satisfying as you thought it would be, and you give warmer hugs than what you gave last night.

You sigh when the driver's door closes, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the cool window. The landscape is an orange blur, the sound of the wind blowing around the car loud enough for the radio to be useless. When you are in the city again, the car slows down and you are stuck in traffic. Bucky's hand reaches out to switch the radio on and you turn slightly in your seat, body leaning towards his.

"I was a bitch to you," you state without any warning and he snorts, looking at you with a confused expression. "When we first met."

"Oh," his raises his brows high, as if in absolute agreement.

"You just reminded me of Steve," you say softly. "And I hated him for leaving. Still do, sometimes." you think, frown etched on your features. "Most of the time. But it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry."

He turns his head towards you, a simple nod to you. You fold your hands on your lap, chest lighter now that you have said it out loud. He clears his throat and you look at him again. Sun reflecting on his sparkling eyes, a smile pushing its way onto his lips. Genuine, soft. You find yourself returning the gesture naturally — no pursed or tight lips, no physical pain in your cheeks.

"And this was nice," you add quietly.

"It's not that we haven't talked," you roll your eyes, nursing a drink of champagne and crossing the bal room with Sam at your side. Voice louder than usual, eyelids and lips glittering, your heels click against the floor and you side step dancing couples.

It's quieter near the Christmas Tree. Well, near the bar.

"So you have talked?" Sam sets his empty glass on the bar counter and asks for a refill with a simple tilt of the head. Perks of being Captain America, surely. You lean against the cold marble, in-between the stools, huffing.

"No, we didn't," you repeat for what is probably the third time.

"Man, this isn't going anywhere," Sam shakes his head, eyes skimming over the crowd. You do the same.

"That's what I told when you insisted on starting this conversation, Wilson."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbles before taking another sip of his drink. You give in with a half shrug and a sigh.

"We just haven't had a reason to, Sam, don't read too much into it," you say casually. "No missions, no meeting…"

"Right. And the fact that you haven't been to our headquarters in a month."

"Well, as I said. No mission, no meeting," you raise your eyebrows. "You think I'm gonna drive all the way up there to say hi and prove you that everything is fine?"

"I was expecting this kind of commitment to the team, yes," Sam sighs dramatically and you return to your bubbly drink.

The song switches to Mariah Carey and a chorus of cheers erupts from the room, almost making you physically wince. Hands in the air, feet jumping up and down and literally making the room shake, every vibration felt deep in your chest.

"Now this is a song I haven't heard today."

Sam snickers.

"Here we go. Was wondering when you were gonna ruin the mood."

"Hey!" You head whirls around, mouth open. Brown eyes twinkling with amusement, eyebrows barely raised, the kind of satisfaction you get when you want to say I told you so. "You have to admit that this is getting redundant." You are definitely not to blame here — surely more there are more than three Christmas songs in the world?

"It's Christmas."

"Yes, I'm painfully of aware." Someone falls on the dance floor and you judge them silently. You and Sam probably look intimidating as both of you are leaning against the bar, glass in hand and chins raised. "Plus it took me more than an hour to…" You trail off, a sudden glint drawing your attention to the entrance of the room, right across from the bar. "…get here."

Sam follows your line of sight. Through a flurry of red figures, glittery and twinkling dresses twirling around with every move and laughter mixed with animated chatter and pop songs, a dark figure parts the crowd and makes its way towards the bar. Something akin to slow-motion happens in your brain. Completely unprepared for something you had been thinking about for days. Not days. Weeks.

Your chest rumbles with the rhythm of the song, matching each beat of the drums. It helps you cover up the fact that your heart is violently pounding against your ribcage and that he can probably hear it. Hell, Steve could probably hear it from his grave — this thought makes you blink, a semblance of composure coming back to your face.

"Hey man!" Sam happily greets his friend, patting him on the back. "Happy Christmas Eve." His hand lingers, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. His gaze is warm and the silent eye-contact you two share when your eyes travel above Bucky's shoulder is a way of wishing you the same. Playful face merging into something sincere. Jolly songs contrasting with the sad look in your eyes and the woeful smiles you three have plastered on your face. Civilians like to call this night the first Christmas into a normal life again. Their old life.

"Hi," Bucky greets you, a little breathless, and you wonder if he took the stairs to get here.

Sam is whisked away by a politician and you remember that he is here as Captain America and therefore is on duty. Champagne has never looked prettier, swirling in your glass as you try to focus on anything else but the man ordering a drink beside you.

"How have you been?" He asks, mimicking your exact posture and taking a first sip of a scotch. You cast him a side glance. There's a scratch above his left eyebrow and you wonder why no one told you about this mission or called for backup.

"You mean, have I lost my goddamn mind in the kitchen again and thrown a poor animal on the floor?" He chuckles. Your eyes travel down his face and his midnight blue suit for a moment. Too long, and he notices. "Nope. I'm good."

He nods, then tilts his head to the side. His once-over is even less subtle than yours and you bury your face into your glass, not knowing where to look anymore. Shit. This was easier when you just bumped into him on your way to see Sam or simply shared missions with him — no small talk, no information on each other, nothing.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be unpleasant. And it was — bleak, gloomy, melancholic. But he wasn't.

"Care to dance?"

Your head snaps up towards him. You laugh, the rest of your drink downed in a second. Bucky stands up straighter — finishing a drink means being freeing oneself from having to hold a glass, right?

"I don't dance, Barnes."

"You don't?" You shake your head, already lifting a hand to motion for another drink. He steps around the bar stool that was previously keeping you apart, the smell of cologne and aftershave hitting your senses.

"I don't. Certainly not on Christmas songs."

He turns his head towards the crowd, chest rising as he breathes in deeply. The room does look pretty. Golden, red and green. Trees and fake wrapped gifts on the floor, fairy lights cascading down the windows and giving a kind of ethereal glow to everything and everyone standing here. It makes looks softer, eyes lighter. A couple captures everyone's attention ; skillfully dancing on every single song and adapting to every tempo. Their smiles are so bright that your lips quirk up a little without you even noticing it. It is radiant and contagious and for a moment they are all you can see.

A small gasp gets stuck in your throat when Bucky steps in front of you, breaking your focus on the dance floor. How did he get so close?

He offers you his hand, palms up and inviting. You remember how they felt on Thanksgiving.

"Bucky, I…really can't dance," you shake your head, lips parted.

"C'mon. No one cares."

He doesn't wait for you to place your hand in his, but simply grabs it, fingers naturally intertwining as if they had been designed to fit together. You open your mouth to argue, but all that escapes your mouth is a chuckle. An incredulous and surprised chuckle — almost a giggle but it hurts to admit it, eyes flitting over the crowd and the people surrounding you. Are they looking? Are they seeing what you are seeing?

He tugs on your hand and it is a slow song that echoes around the room, two bodies felling in step and gliding across the glittering floor. You hide your surprise at the way he leads you effortlessly — you had heard stories about his days in the forties and you suppose this is what he mastered to woo the dames. A warm hand in yours and the other firmly placed around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck, fingernails tingling his skin.

"Is this Bing Crosby?" You ask lazily, body swaying slowly.

He hums.

"Uh. Better than Mariah Carey," you state quietly, almost in his ear. Hot breath on his skin. He huffs, quiet laughter and crinkles by his eyes. Out of all the things you could say to him right now, this is what you do.

"I'm glad you came," he says softly and you look at him curiously. He gives you a half shrug as you slowly twirl in his arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. Didn't want you to be alone today."

Your stomach twists when you are pulled into his arms again, your hand hesitantly cupping the back of his neck. You had indeed considered staying in bed and possibly crying in front of a romantic comedy, as cliché as it sounds. Completely immerse yourself in a universe that isn't yours and whose characters you do not have to grieve for. Vicariously feeling the Christmas Spirit of others.

But you wanted to be with your friends, as painful as it is to be reminded that your circle is half empty. Sam has poured his heart into this party — a tribute to Tony, a bit of giving after having taken so much, money raised for people in need and an opportunity to reunite and share something as a group again. You admire his strength and will and it is no surprise to you that he gets to carry the Captain America mantle. Someone whose heart knows no limit and who would do anything for his friends.

You smile wistfully.

"It's a nice party," is the only thing you say, small shrug accompanying a casual tone.

"It is," Bucky nods. Eyes going over every decoration again. It is a nice feeling — swaying in his arms, warmth and cologne engulfing you whole and caging you from the outside world. His skin is so soft against your fingers and you want to nuzzle your face into his neck, completely hide away and feel nothing but him.

You shouldn’t let yourself feel this way for someone you might lose, but you can’t help but relish the feeling of being held again. His hands cannot mend the pieces of your broken heart but they can contain them and keep you from crumbling down.

Disappointment probably shows on your face and your tired smile when the song ends and he steps away from you — hand still lingering on yours. As if reading your thoughts, Bucky casts a glance behind him and motions towards the exit with his chin. You follow his line of sight, then eye the crowd around you. He is right, no one cares.

Trailing behind him with flitting glances around you, hand grabbing a hold of his suit as if you could squeeze fabric tighter than flesh, you don’t notice when he stops and you bump into his back. The idea of leaving this party with him is taking up all your thoughts — no clear ideas but a definite feeling, an urge to find the comfort of his arms again.You almost don't look up as a string of cheers and laughter erupts around you. Way too close to you to be a simple coincidence. Bucky's hand tightens around yours. Green stares back at you.

Oh.

No.

Mistletoe.

Should you shake it off with a good laughter that makes it look like this is extremely funny but he is just a friend? Should you pretend not to see it even though your eyes are boring holes into it?

Bucky has already made up his mind.

Warm flesh squeezes your hand while cool metal rests on the small of your back, encircling your waist and pulling you close so unexpectedly that you almost stumble into his arms. The warmth emitted from his body is already melting away any smart quips or observations you had ready to get out of this. Completely shattering your resolve not to melt into his arms. You can only feel him. His arms around you, flesh hand moving up your arm, caressing and squeezing your shoulder until it is resting on your neck, fingers delicately holding your chin. You don't resist when he lifts it, eyes meeting his through your thick lashes.

This is the opposite of the quiet and intimate moment you were thinking about when leaving the room. Far from discreet touches but right among flashing lights, booming music and expectant stares. You’ve never had a kiss under the mistletoe and this is way too cheesy and holidays-like.

But he leans forward and his lips are on yours. Softly. Delicately. It lasts a split second. It satisfies the crowd and it seems like a peck that could happen to both lovers and friends but it leaves you aching for more.

You look up in a daze when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes wide. You blink it all away and plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face when you fake-bow to clapping strangers, and it takes all the willpower in the world to hold yourself upright.

The corridor is almost empty, save late-comers jogging towards where you are coming from or drunken people escaping the warm and almost suffocating air of the party. You have absolutely no idea where you are going, numb legs carrying you all the way to a remote corner. Your back hits the wall — his arm around you softens the impact.

Who instigated the second kiss? You feel like he met you halfway, or maybe you stayed rooted to your spot like a deer caught in headlights, pulse probably heard from a miles away. You can only focus on the softness of his lips on your skin, tender kisses on your neck and on the corner of your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, fingers making their way through his hair and tugging, cheek to cheek and chest to chest — time has stopped.

You only open your eyes halfway when he pulls away for air, blurred vision and pounding heart. You feel his hot breath on your face when he chuckles breathlessly.

"Still hate this damn season?"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #christmas one shot #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

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bellarkeandclintashaandsuch · 3 years

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Well. I fell back into the Marvel hole. And while I refuse to acknowledge certain character deaths and characters abandoning their girlfriend, boyfriend, and remaining found family members who clearly need him to go back to his almost-girlfriend whom he knew was married and had kids and a successful and important career, I did enjoy the little bit of post-snap/blip we saw in the newest episode. And that’s the reason I’m sad all the Netflix shows got canceled. Because we could’ve seen more of this ground level impact. Poor Monica has just come back 5 years later with no idea what has happened. And now I’m top of that she has to deal with her mother dying while she was snapped. This is the problem with fixing the snap but not going back 5 years to fix it. I get why Tony didn’t want to do that. But it had to have created so many issues. People who got remarried and now have two spouses. People who missed their kid’s birth and now their 5. People with friends and family who died while they were snapped, like Monica. People now out of a job because it had to be filled while they were nowhere. And what about people who died because of the snap but weren’t snapped themselves? There must have been a lot. Half the people on the road snapped, but their cars didn’t, did they? The bus driver disappeared but passenagers were still there when they crashed. Airplane pilots and air traffic controllers and train drivers. People having surgery and their doctors and nurses disappeared. So many more people would’ve died in the aftermath of the snap, but they didn’t get brought back. I’m getting off topic. What I mean to say is I feel bad for Monica. And I’m sad Maria is dead. But I appreciate the realistic portrayal of what happened because of the snap. Blip.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #MCU #marvel #the snap #I still hate calling it the blip #clearly still not over certain endgame related events

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carynsilver · 4 years

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Favorite Fics: Darcy Edition

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Things started going on that hurt my soul, and I just felt like, who cares about some fic recs when people are getting hurt? But… I don’t know. I still find solace and comfort in reading stories, even when things are hard—especially when things are hard. So, I finally felt like maybe it was time for another. If the fic writers out there are giving me escape, warm fuzzies, and enjoyment during these weird times, then they deserve some love directed back at them.

So far, I’ve listed my top 10 favorite Stucky, Drarry, and Stony fics. I love them all, but… that is a lot of dudes. I decided it was time for a little girl power in my fanfic recs. One of my favorite BAMF female characters is Darcy Lewis—one of the best and most under-rated, under-explored characters in the MCU.

I love Darcy as the every-girl who has the moxie and chutzpa to hold her own in a life full of superheroes. The girl tased the God of Thunder because he was freaking her out, for goodness sake! I love her being BFFs with Jane, being Thor’s lightening sister, and creating a found family. I love her living in the tower and caring for all the superheroes and science geniuses like they won’t care for themselves. There’s enough leeway in her backstory for fun twists, too, like being Jewish, or—one of my absolute faves—secretly being the daughter of Tony Stark.

There are a ton of good Darcy fics out there, but these are my top 10. Thank you, writers, for sharing these amazing stories with us!

Casa de Island Avengers by @inkbert

I clicked on this story because of WinterShock (Darcy/Bucky), which is a favorite ship of mine (I feel my love of Bucky has been previously discussed at length, lol), but it has become one of my favorite fics of all time. Not even just in the MCU—if I were listed my top five fanfics ever read, this one is on the list.

The concept is simple—post-Ultron, the Avengers started falling apart as a team, so Steve spearheads the effort to get them all on a two-week vacation to Tony’s private island in a last-ditch bonding effort. Every character (except Thor, but he does get some good screen time) has his or her own point of view for at least a chapter or two. Sometimes, this leads to characters sounding the same, but @inkbert really grounds each character in their own backstory and makes their inner monologues sound unique. Then, so many wacky hijinks ensue—camping, drinking, movie nights, girl bonding, sailing, pranks, and the most competitive game nights and challenges you’ve ever seen.

The ships included are Darcy/Bucky, Steve/Natasha, Pepper/Tony, and Clint/Wanda, but this story isn’t only about the ships. It’s about all these crazy characters bonding—found family at its finest. This is probably my favorite Darcy/Jane BFFs story ever, and the Bruce/Tony science bro connection is classic. The story is fully seated in cannon (up through Ultron and moving to the ccmpound), except no Clint/secret family and Pietro lives. Read it. Read it now! And if you enjoy it, there are several one-shots that follow, including a Wanda-centric one that shouldn’t be missed.

Best Supporting Soulmate by Valeris

I love a good soulmate fic, and this is an excellent one. The first thing your soulmate says to you is written on your skin, and there are both romantic and platonic soulmates. Darcy has Jane as a platonic soulmate, but it’s her other soulmate who made her life crazy before she even met them. What are you supposed to do when your soulmate’s first words to you are to let them die?

The two primary ships in this fic are Wintershock and Stony, which work well together, but the story delves into a lot more relationships. I don’t love the whole amnesia trope in a Stucky fic because losing all that history and friendship hurts so much, but in a WinterShock fic, I have a real soft spot for Darcy being able to help post-HYDRA Bucky learn how to person again, and she does that in spades in this one. She also cultivates friendships with just about everyone in Avengers Tower and beyond. Darcy/Johnny Storm BFFs are amazing, and the deep friendship Darcy develops with Tony in this story gives me all the feels. This is a great version of BAMF Darcy who can see what the tortured characters need and is able to help them get there. And there is some interesting conflict with the Fantastic Four, as well.

This was one of the first, if not the first, WinterShock stories I ever read. I had been trying TaserHawk, but it wasn’t really my cuppa, and then somehow found this one and got hooked.

Road Trip of Champions by @leftennant

Natasha and Steve are going on a road trip. Steve wants Bucky to come with, but they feel like they need a fourth to make things even. Natasha bribes Darcy into coming with, and over the course of the trip, we get a lovely WinterShock romance. The road trip concept is fun, and Darcy and Bucky have a light enemies to friends to lovers vibe going on. Bucky is recovering, Darcy isn’t going to take anyone’s crap, and Natasha and Steve really just want a little private time along the way. And the bit at the end of the main story when they play paintball—classic and a scene that has stuck in my mind long after reading many other fics. The protective vibe Bucky has for Darcy after all this and how it even affects paintball is adorable. There are other one-shots in this ’verse as well that should not be missed. You might never think of lemons the same again.

Daybreak by @anogete

Anogete has a really good touch with snarky, caretaker Darcy. I love all her WinterShock stories, but this is the one that’s stuck with me the most. The concept of Darcy trying to help dismantle Bucky’s trigger words by creating new memories for each one was so compelling. The therapy aspect did give me pause (a personal thing; it is dealt with as respectfully as possible in the story), but it all works out in the end. The fact that I loved it so much despite a mild personal ping with the concept speaks to how well it’s written, honestly. :-) And, if this one isn’t to your taste, Anogete has plenty of great WinterShock to read, so definitely try one of them instead!

The Run ’Verse by themonkeycabal

Though it eventually becomes a WinterShock story, my favorite thing about this universe is the Tony-Stark-is-Darcy’s-father trope. This is probably my absolute favorite version of that relationship. There is also time travel, and BAMF Peggy Carter. And even though I don’t love the Darcy-becomes-a-Shield-agent thing as much as Darcy the Scientist Wrangler, this story has a great, cannon-compliant reason for why Tony, Clint, etc., weren’t able to come help Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Maria in CA:tWS. There are a ton of stories in this ’verse, and I enjoyed every single one. My favorite, though, is the one where Darcy and Tony go visit Howard’s forgotten secret bunker and have three generation’s-worth of overdue conversations.

A Morbid Taste for Ice by sitehound

This is probably my favorite TaserTricks story, though I haven’t read nearly as much Darcy/Loki as I have other Darcy ships. I think it’s because writing Loki in character and making it believable to me that Darcy would fall in love with him, especially post-Avengers 1, is a fine line. If the fic apologizes too much for Loki’s wrongdoing without enough repentance/reformation, I don’t buy that she would legit be able to fall for him, but, go too far on the redemption and Loki gets OOC.

This story hits all those beats pretty perfectly and combines them with the whole Darcy/Jane/Thor (and now Loki) found family thing, Thor/Loki brother angst, Jane/Darcy BFFs, and a really compelling murder mystery to boot. There is also an interesting subplot with Loki being what basically amounts to a magical mechanic that I found really interesting amidst the snark, romance, and mystery solving. I’m sad this writer only has the one story up because it is so good!

Bygone by @inkbert

This story is Shieldshock (Steve/Darcy), not WinterShock, so even though I do try to only choose one fic per author (mostly), I’m totally fine having two by @inkbert on this list. Besides, this fic is amazing, and it’s not like there are anyone’s rules to follow on these fic rec lists but my own, lol! This is hands down my favorite ShieldShock story ever.

Jane’s experiment goes awry and sends Darcy into the past—specifically after Bucky left for basic but before he shipped out and Steve got tapped for Project Rebirth. Darcy ends up living with Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes, and she falls head over heels in love with tiny Steve, so much so that they get married despite not knowing what the future holds for her. Then, the night before Steve is going to report to basic, Darcy blips out again, and when she blips back in, Steve is dead. The rest of the story has Darcy blipping her way through time, making friends with Howard, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos. Ultimately, though, it’s her brother/sister relationship with Tony that is the most poignant, especially by the time they catch up to the present again. And Darcy is a complete BAMF the whole time—going on missions, learning to fly anything with wings, doing anything and everything to keep her found family together. This story also gave me a plan for what I would do if I were ever shot back into a timeline like this where I couldn’t sew or cook or make a living—become a typist… genius, Darce!

Their Hearts Said by @anogete

Another Anogete story because I just can’t resist. All her stories are really good, be they WinterShock, ShieldShock, or even her really good Loki/OC fic. I would definitely suggest giving all of them a try.

This ShieldShock story is my favorite post-Infinity War tale. It picks up a few weeks after the snap, with everyone grieving and trying to figure out what to do next. Steve is barely holding it together while the remaining Avengers try to figure out what they can do. After Jane and her family disappear, Darcy heads to Avengers Tower, hoping against hope that maybe Thor knows what’s going on. Darcy and Steve start sleeping together as more of an escape from the awfulness around them than anything else, but as the team works on a plan to save the day and bring everyone back, they develop real feelings for each other. There is also time travel and I really loved the minimalist way she wrote how the day was saved in this. It balanced well with the character stuff. This story is much preferable to End Game—too bad cannon didn’t go like this!

Good Madness by Em_Jaye

Normally, I prefer my Darcy embedded within the MCU cannon. I adore that every girl keeping up with superheroes thing. But, I do enjoy a good AU on occasion, and this is one of my faves. It’s ShieldShock and kid!fic. Darcy runs a bakery that was left to her by her mother (real You’ve Got Mail tones there, but no creepy identity porn), and Steve comes in for treats on occasion. One day, he brings his daughter, and the rest is history. I love the Steve/Darcy romance in this one, and Steve’s daughter is a sweet character. I love the Full House thing Steve has going on co-raising his daughter with Bucky and Sam. And there is a nice Bucky/Natasha subplot and some really good Tony, which I would say more about except that I don’t want to spoil the surprise. My favorite story in the series is the five rules one at the end, so definitely keep going long enough for that. And if you like Em_Jaye’s writing, you should check out The Long Way Around—a Shieldshock, time travel, Endgame fix-it WIP that is excellent, as well.

One Year by @steeleholtingon

This story is WinterShieldShock. OT3s aren’t my favorite trope, but somehow with Bucky/Darcy/Steve, it works. Maybe it’s something about the boys’ history and Darcy dragging them into the future. Kind of what she does for each of them individually in WinterShock and ShieldShock, but with even more oomph. I haven’t read the whole tag, but One Year is my favorite.

Bucky’s Winter Soldier recovery has pushed both Steve and Bucky to the edge. Steve ends up leaving (at Bucky’s demand, but also because the team is afraid he’s going to do some kind of suicide via superhero duty if he doesn’t get his head on straight). The wrinkle—the night before he left, Darcy and Steve had a comforting one-night stand that resulted in two pinks lines on the test. The resulting story takes place one month at a time. Steve tries to piece himself back together and put his feelings for Bucky in the past whilst falling for Darcy over text messages. Bucky, on the other hand, realizes how he fucked it all up and vows to be there for Darcy and Steve’s baby while Steve is gone. Darcy navigates the waters of an unplanned (but wanted) pregnancy while balancing her feelings for both of them. And all the rest of the Avengers, science crew, and other Avengers-adjacent peeps support all three of them through it all. Angst, recovery, and a happy ending. So good!

So, after all that, what are you guys waiting for? Get to reading all this Darcy goodness! :-)

And now I need to figure out what fic rec list to work on next. I have a Stranger Things one (Harringrove and Mileven) almost ready to go, and then I need to decide what to do with the ships and characters that I don’t have a full top ten for. Group them together, perhaps? Bughead and LoVe might be a good combination, lol. And WinterHawk and WinterIron.

#darcy lewis #darcy x steve #darcy x loki #darcy x bucky #wintershock #shieldshock #tasertricks #fanfic #fanfic rec #quarantine reads #highly recommend #thanks for writing these fics #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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unsettledink · 3 years

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A while back I made up a list of fics I had ideas for/wanted to write, mostly to try and drum up bids for Marvel Trumps Hate.

Since then I have, of course, had approximately five million new ideas and keeping track of them has gotten a bit out of hand, so i thought I’d try and put them all in one place that I could come back to and also update more easily. Also possibly some sort of... accountability thing? Like if I put them out into the universe I’m more likely to actually write them? Well I can dream.

There’s going to be a couple of these, divided up by pairings. Feel free to ignore, it’s mostly housekeeping!

(This one’s just for starker and polystarker ideas.)

I’m kind of grouping these because it got long. (Smut, smut + feels, fluff, oh no the sads)

* for new ideas (ARG)

Just the smut! (Ok some feels):

Continuation of Hang Up – so what does happen the next morning after that phone call? (Sex. Probably more phone sex.)

*Pocket Change sequel – Why yes, Peter, you can work out some sort of retroactive deal to 'pay' for the suits...

Peter is dumb online – Peter decides to auction off his virginity online. Of course Tony finds out immediately. Of course Tony buys it to keep Peter from getting hurt. Of course Tony decides to meet up and teach Peter a lesson about being safe – wait. That might have been a mistake. (It’s not.)

Actually, Peter doesn’t like it rough – miscommunication piled on top of miscommunication because they’re both idiots who are desperate for each other, until a tipping point is reached. Happy ending! Fluffy ending!

Gag reflex training – pretty much what it sounds like. Tony having a lot of fun with Peter; messy, noisy, hopefully hot.

Experienced Peter – Peter hasn’t been waiting around for Tony to be the first, and he’s had time to figure out some of his preferences. Like topping almost exclusively, among other things. Hey I kind of wrote this!

Civil War pick me up – after the airport, Tony goes to check on Peter and is in desperate need of something nice. Peter really, really wants to be that something nice. Could be underage, could be not.

Continuation of Gift Wrapped – (Peter/Tony/Pepper) there’s a lot more sex happening for Tony’s birthday than I had time to write for kinktober.

But you want me to be safe, don’t you? - Peter’s hit with sex pollen, but it can be taken care of without outside help. Peter would still really like it if Tony would help. Or would at least keep an eye on him. Or at least stay in hearing range! He won’t be able to resist if Peter’s noisy and saying his name while he gets off, right???

Armor Kink - I mean, basically what it says on the tin. Peter’s been having fantasies about the armor forever. Tony is absolutely willing to help him with that.

ABO forced presentation – Peter doesn’t know what he’ll end up being, and that’s bad for Reasons. He convinces Tony try forcing a presentation (not noncon type forcing) and things get weird. Playing around with the idea of how non-binary might go in ABO. Possible Tony/Peter/Pepper endship. More than likely somewhat underage.

Avengers orgy – Peter’s finally old enough to join in the tradition! While he’s having fun with everyone, Peter and Tony keep gravitating to each other, winding up with things getting a little too emotional when Tony finally gets his chance. Potential for Tony/Peter/Rhodey endship.

The spider bite did what?!? - Peter starts having really weird cravings when he’s around Tony. Weird as in blood, and Tony is going to help him figure this out. Even when it turns into a craving for sex (and bloodplay). Even when it turns into terrifying (for Peter) egg/medical kink.

*Hooker D/S AU Brat!Peter – Tony orders 'the brattiest sub you have' and gets Peter. Who is incredibly so, and Tony is actually delighted by this. And Peter is a little taken aback that someone likes this rather than considering him a bad sub.

*Flaunt follow up – more Peter/Tony/Rhodey D/S AU? Yup!

*No, I'm saving YOU – villains of the week catch them and plan on gangbanging Peter – until Tony offers to be willing if they leave Peter alone. At some point Peter comes around and tries to bargain for them to use him instead of Tony. Tony is not happy about this, but boy, the villains are!

*Peter/Harley/Tony - Tony’s so glad Peter’s over that crush and happy with Harley. Really. Totally. Meanwhile, Peter & Harley are doing their best to get Tony into bed with them and growing increasingly frustrated with Tony’s (intentional) obliviousness.

Smut! Oh wait, where did all these feelings come from?:

Toybox – slightly darker Peter decides if Tony won’t fuck him, the least Tony can do is pay for Peter’s toys, and watch while Peter enjoys them. No touching allowed since Tony doesn’t want him, after all. Which is a rule that gets harder and harder to keep in place; feelings, so many feelings everywhere.

Pain kink Peter – what it says on the tin, lol. “Oh Mr. Stark, maybe you should supervise this slightly dangerous sex thing I like.” I think we can guess where it heads from there.

Baby's first D/S (dom version) – established T/P, Tony's subby but hasn't brought it up. Peter is like, 'but what if I was into the idea of doming?' and they start messing around with it. Peter is Very Earnest and learning all these new things, and Tony is surprised to find, after a while, Peter's doing pretty good on his own.

Call boy Peter – what it sounds like! It’s an accident that Tony gets him; good thing Peter was blindfolded! Bad thing that Peter’s senses are enhanced and he knows from the start who it is. Good thing that Peter’s not going to say anything so he can keep this reliable customer?

Evil Ex D/S verse – Peter’s pretty insecure about being a good sub for Tony and it’s not helped at all when one of Tony’s ex subs tells him he’ll never be able to take what Tony wants to dish out. Well, Peter’s going to prove him wrong! Tony really doesn’t understand why Peter is making himself miserable for something Tony doesn’t even want, and things almost break before they get fixed.

*Besties and Omegas and Peter's – Rhodey and Tony (both omegas) end up in an awkward situation when Peter has something like an enhanced rut around them. Slightly complicated dynamics but happy ending for everyone.

*Outraged owned Peter – some sort of slave type au where Obie buys Peter for Tony as a companion, considering Peter to be a distraction and possible spy. Tony does not want a sex slave and rejects him, and Peter is furious – he is not just for sex, he is literally worth his weight in gold, and how DARE Tony not want him!

*Very dark Peter - Peter’s decided he really likes having Tony completely wrapped around his little finger. To the point of getting Tony to give him/do things that are pretty far from acceptable, and then Peter figures out he likes showing off his hold over Tony even more. Oops.

Fluff! (Crap there’s not much):

Follow up to Seiche – mostly fluffy 5 times +1 where the emotion sensing bond causes (minor) problems

Fluffy D/S verse – all the fluff! All the outside POV! Everyone assumes that obviously Tony is a dom; after all, that’s how he’s always presented himself. Everyone is wroooooong. Tony’s never been happier.

Nail polish – little bit of Tony finding it incredibly appealing when Peter wears nail polish

*Lingerie shorts – several vignettes of them getting each other and wearing different interesting pieces of lingerie

Oh No + all the feelings, heavy on the bad ones:

Soulmark AU – Tony finds out first and isn’t going to do anything due to the age difference. Peter finds out and thinks that’s bullshit + horribly hurt that he’s being rejected. Things are forced when Peter gets hit with a drug that messes with that bond and they both have to figure out how things are going to go. Possible bittersweet ending.

Screw soulmates, actually - Post CW and Tony dealing with soulmate rejection (that’s a WHOLE other fic). Peter’s become convinced Tony’s a blank like him, and then doesn’t understand why Tony’s soulmate wouldn’t want him. Peter does! They get their happy ever after without being fated for each other, and Peter gets a chance to tells Tony’s soulmate what a dick they are. All the satisfaction!

*Blanks are Bad – soulmark au where blanks are regarded extremely poorly, and Tony is exposed as one. Lots of dealing with the ugly fallout, and Peter coming to Tony and confessing he's a blank too and has been so scared.

Untenable – sequel to Indefensible and … horrible. The ABO underage incest continues, Tony hates himself, Peter is distressingly happy. Mpreg makes everything ten times worse; endgame makes everything 100 times worse. Going beyond that would be spoilery, but uh. Everything becomes 1000 times worse by the end! Yay! Yikes.

*Made For It follow ups (aka the... happy version of Indefensible??) - we want to actually see the sex scene they talk about doing, right? Right. And possibly some mpreg? We shall see.

ABO accidental bonding – the worst abo version, heads up. Underage Peter, omegas are treated very poorly, Peter and Tony don’t know each other beforehand and don’t do great getting to know each other afterwards. Biology continues to fuck Peter over, and Tony really doesn’t get how desperately Peter wants Tony to like him. Mountains and mountains of angst and sad before the happy ending.

Copy - After IW, Tony makes a Peter clone/android/whatever. Unfortunately, it just makes things worse because it’s just enough off to make it super obvious it’s not Peter. And fake!Peter knows it too. He’s just enough like real Peter to fall in love with Tony too, and he can’t figure out how to make Tony care about him instead of real, dead Peter. Not that it matters when he snap is reversed (Tony lives) and fake!Peter isn’t needed or wanted anymore. (Will probably have a sequel where real Peter finds out about all this, probably happy ending for everyone.)

Nothing sticks around - years after the blip, Peter discovers Tony, alive - only Tony has none of his memories. Tony doesn’t want anything to do with these people Peter tries to reintroduce him to; he trusts Peter and wants to stay with him. And does, for quite some time, things turning into a relationship, and even if Peter feels guilty about it, he’s happy. Right up until Tony suddenly remembers everything … except what’s been going on the last few years with Peter. Undecided if there’s a happy ending or not.

I hate time travel - once Tony figures out time travel, he decides he needs to find out if this works by hopping forward and seeing if Peter is back. And then maybe he should hop forward a little more just to check on him. Keeps doing this, about once a year, and while Peter is so glad to see him, it’s destroying Peter to basically go through Tony ‘dying’ over and over. Pretty soon it’s fucking up Tony too, after he accidentally shows up when Peter’s in the middle of sex. Very bittersweet ending to maintain the timeline.

Fuck you, Beck - Beck goes about getting the glasses in the worst ways, and Peter finds out a little too late - way too late when it comes to sleeping with him. Not that he’s going to ever tell anyone about that. Not even Tony, when Tony comes back. Not even Tony, when it turns out Tony is interested. Okay, maybe he’ll have to tell Tony when Peter’s reactions to sex become a problem. Happy ending but lots of ouch on the way.

Sequel to Dormant - so what exactly does Tony notice the morning after? And what exactly does Peter do about it? (Spoiler: A lot more than Peter thought he would, and nothing good.)

Don’t punish people like that – as much Tony/Obie as Tony/Peter, maybe pre-Tony/Peter. Obie decided to deal with Tony’s wild streak by punishing him in an especially awful, painful, dehumanizing, sexual way. Tony’s managed to handle how awful that was by pretending it was helpful (nope!). When Peter will not stop misbehaving, the last resort Tony can think of is what was done to him. It helped, right? (He can’t bring himself to in the end, which sets off a cascading failure of repressed trauma, woot!)

*That's rape, Tony – Tony getting drugged, gangbanged, and recorded, and then having part of it released that looks consensual. Tony doesn't remember enough to say it wasn't, and with his history, people don't question it. It goes over very poorly and he's handling all the parts of it very poorly, and Peter is the one to finally put the pieces together.

Sex Pollen Non-Con – Tony’s hit with some sort of fuck or die stuff; only problem is that he 100% refuses to let Peter do anything, and there’s no one else. Peter, convinced that Tony’s going to die, stops giving Tony a choice. What’s that, the trauma Tony was hoping to spare him is replaced with way worse trauma from basically raping Tony? WHOOPS. (Probably happy ending!)

Secondhand verse – following after this, things growing steadily worse, hotter, and more complex between Peter, Beck, and Tony. Bad decisions all around! Unexpected feelings all around! General unhappiness at having feelings that can be hurt all around! Probably a series of fics.

12:00 - follow up to 11:59, Tony and Peter finally getting it on and Beck being an ass in the background. Also the prequel that’s primarily Peter/Quentin, and possibly a sequel where Tony decides that maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, watching Beck fuck Peter - and Peter liked it, right? Everyone’s down for a totally uncomplicated round two, right? Or three, or four...

(And feel free to talk to me about anything here, I love an excuse to ramble. Also, if something grabs your attention, have fun writing it - the more the merrier!)

#starker #pepperstarker #quenterony #ironspiderhusbands #rhodey x tony x peter #(is there a ship name for that???)#idea squad #idea dump #maybe i'll write this someday

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lovinnscarletknight · 4 years

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Video messages - Tony Stark!Dad x reader

-- Imagine being Tony Stark’s daughter and you disappeared when Thanos caused the blip. He leaves you a series of video messages talking to you about what is going on and he never loses hope.

I’ve had this in my drafts for agesssss and finally thought I should publish it since I haven’t posted in months.... enjoy, it’s probably sad.

* * *

“February 2019” He cleared this throat carefully sitting back in his seat, “Hi Y/N, I figured that maybe videos of everything happening would be easier to show you when you come back rather than trying to explain it to you” Tony was sat in his chair and it was quiet. He looked too sick to be up and talking and definitely in a bad shape, “After everyone disappeared, I was stuck on that planet, in that ship, with Nebula for five days. Just stuck floating in space. She looked after me, she did her best. I had said goodbye when Carol showed up, she brought us back to the compound; Pepper was there and part of me was hopeful that we could get you back. But every day – it just gets harder not waking up to see you. I miss you”

“May 2019” Tony had gained some weight and was now sat in a different environment, in fact, he was sat in Y/N’s bedroom, “Pep and I have moved out of the compound, I built a house for all of us, me, you, Pep and, your little sister” Tony smiled as he held up a sonogram and Pepper happily laughed as she sat carefully on the bed, “We are actually in your bedroom now, don’t worry, I didn’t decorate, I left that to Pepper. It’s really quiet without you. I made your favourite last night, famous spaghetti, it didn’t taste the same; I know that sounds weird but it’s true. We also got the freezer stocked with cookie dough, we know you’ll be back soon and we know how much you love ice cream” Tony smiled gently and Pepper placed her hand on his shoulder, “We love you, we really do”

“August 2019” The room was lit and the background was different, he was sat on the decking outside, a glass of whiskey in his hand, “It’s been seven months since you disappeared. It would be your seventeenth birthday today. God – seventeen, where has the time gone?” He stared at the drink in his hand wiping a tear that fell from his eye, “Pepper is doing well. We decided to name her Morgan, little Morgan Y/N Stark. Pepper wanted your name in there too, she misses you. I don’t know what to say anymore. Part of me knows that I need to let go of you and continue our lives; I know the last thing you would want is this. You hated the attention” He sighed wiping his face with the back of his hands, “I love you”

“December 2019” The Christmas tree was up, it wasn’t dressed to what it normally was but a simple star sat on top, very few presents sat wrapped underneath differing much from last year, “Merry Christmas honey. I raised a glass for you tonight, Pepper raised a juice box” Pepper stepped forward waving, her pregnant stomach huge compared to the last time she had appeared on screen, “Morgan is due next month, the twenty- third. We really hope that you’ll be back with us by then, but chances seem low. We’ve got some Christmas presents too for you, I know you don’t like them but” Tony shrugged and looked at Pepper who quickly wrapped him in a hug. Tony sobbed harder before Pepper leaned forward switching the camera off whispering soothing words to her husband.

“January 2020” Tony smiled bright holding Morgan wrapped in a small pink blanket, “Y/N, this is Morgan, your little sister. Say hi honey!” Tony titled Morgan so the camera could see her little sleeping face, “She looks just like Pepper, but she’s got our face. You would love her Y/N; she is so small and precious. The birth went as planned, no complications; Pepper is resting but I’ll get her to pop in later. God – I can’t wait for her to meet you Y/N/N. See you soon beautiful, I love you”

“June 2020” Tony sat in the wooden seat looking tired, “Hello Y/N. It’s been a while since the last time I made one of these and this is going to be the last one. I can’t keep doing this knowing that I could be holding on to some hopeless dream that you’ll come back but also because if you do than it’s going to be too hard for you to see everything you have missed”

“I can’t expect you to be ok with us moving on with our lives but I also need you to know that not a day goes by that I don’t think of you” He nodded towards the camera, his vision now blurry, “I would give anything in a heartbeat to have you back here with us. Losing your mother hurt, then we lost your brother which was painful, but losing you? I can’t formulate how much this hurt. We were there for each other; we were all we had at one-point Y/N. It was me and you, against the world but I fucked that up, and no number of apologies or tears is going to fix that”

“Seeing you grow up so quickly these past few years has made me so proud to be your father” He shuffled in his seat wiping the fallen tears, “I will think of you every day when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep and all the time in between. You’ll always be with me Y/N, and I know right now, where ever you are, I’m with you. You know why right?” He smiled softly, “Me and you, we’re a team. I love you always Y/N”

“August 2023” Tony felt weird sitting down like this after such a long time. His hair had lightened, his face more worn and wrinkled but he looked happy, “It’s been three years since I last sat down to talk to you. As promised, not a day goes by when I don’t think of you. Today you would have turned twenty- one, finally legal to drink – although I knew those parties you went to had alcohol, I wasn’t stupid” He smiled, a small projection of what was in front of him lighting his face.

“Steve came and spoke to me today. I know, I’m just as shocked as you are. He thinks that we can go back in time, retrieve the stones and then use them to get everyone back. I was hesitant, I’m not going to lie Y/N. I couldn’t lose everything we’ve built to get crushed again but, turns out, I’ve figured it out. The whole-time travelling thing, I mean shit” A small voice repeated the curse word and Tony turned away from the camera scolding his youngest daughter, “You want to say hi to Y/N” Morgan agreed before clambering up her father’s legs to sit on his lap, he pointed at the camera and Morgan smiled and waved, “Morgan knows this is going to work, right?” the young girl nodded her head, “You’ll be home soon Y/N/M, we’re in the home stretch now and I can’t wait to see you again. I love you honey”

“I love you 3000 Y/N” Morgan beamed as Tony lent forward and the screen went blank.

---

Sorry for not posting in so long but hope you enjoyed!

Requests are open and I’ll take anything except smut :)

- Angela x

#avengers #avengers endgame #avengers infinity war #marvel #tony stark x reader #tony stark dad #iron dad #iron man #spiderman #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #tom holland #robert downey jr #spoilers

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404fmdtaejin · 3 years

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famed idol life / career meme

notes: once again, a big mega post because i didn’t want to flood dash with answers. thanks to everyone that sent in!!

1. what is your favorite single you’ve released?

“solo wise? i’ve only released one solo portal song, which was a self-written song called that’s okay. well, bc forced that one on me when they took pages from my diary — still, my only one solo release, and that’s the favorite since i’m left with no other option. in regards to group? everyone knows, amigo or not — my favorite will always be view. something special about that time, i tell you.”

2. what are your favorite b-sides/non-title tracks you’ve released?

“since i haven’t released any songs by myself other than the one mentioned before, i’d have to go through decipher’s discography. lovesick, odd eye, prism, honesty, stranger, better off — there’s a lot to sift through in the past few years. unfortunately, there’s a point where my interest had started weaning off idol-dom, and you can observe that when i stopped paying attention and interest into what decipher did conceptually after 2016. at least the enjoyment was fun while it lasted.”

3. what is your least favorite song (title track or b-side) you’ve released?

”that’s an easy one. you take any b-side we’ve released in the past few years, and that probably makes the list. the comeback with the b-side shot was awful. that’s probably the worst, in my head. never was a fan of that comeback, now that i think of it — i call it the dark blip of decipher’s early career. perhaps it’s just ambivalence at this point that i have no real strong feelings towards bsides nowadays.”

4. if you could do a duet with anyone in the industry, who would you choose? what do you think of your/your group’s concept?

“i’d want to do a duet with duri — we’ll have a tale of the oldies. the two 1990 liners inside bc’s walls doing a ballad song. though, duri would have to take the high notes on that one seeing as how he’s a power vocalist. there’s rarely times where i’m able to keep in touch or have people around my age, and for that — i’m always grateful when i come across that. we’d manage something interesting given the same age, and the ballad concept.”

5. what do you think of your/your group’s concept?

“decipher doesn’t really stick to a concept, and i suppose our concept has always been to branch into new avenues. there’s good things and bad things about it, obviously. we’re given new things to try, new stylings, and what not. however, we’re also subjected to that risk in case it doesn’t turn out how bc envisioned. to put it short — it’s either a hit or miss.”

6. what is one thing (a concept, a genre, an outfit, etc.) you would least like your company make you do?

“decipher’s novelty in the industry is that we’ve been here so long that we’ve managed a lot of different concepts. from the house pop to retro vibes, even spring ballads in soft tunes — we’ve done it all. the least? i’d say another electronic heavy music where we’re dancing like madmen. i wouldn’t mind a powerful choreography to show i can still ‘hang’, but to the sounds of techno-ish music? i don’t think so. at least, not with my age.”

7. what one thing (concepts, genres, styling, frequency of comebacks, etc.) would you like to change about your current career as an idol?

“i don’t want to comeback so frequently — it seems we’re coming back more frequently than other rookies. it would be nicer to stay back and relax while we let the hoobaes have their time to shine. genres and concepts aren’t really on the top of my list to complain about, though i would enjoy an old throw-back to decipher’s glory days where we’re given something newer. perhaps, that’d be enough to rejuvenate my attitude towards the industry.”

8. if you could be in any idol group, which one would you choose?

“with my age, i don’t think i’d fit any group. perhaps, i could assimilate myself to knight, but the bad boy niche doesn’t really match mine. say, i was a few years younger — then, you’d have me inside charm. i think i’d do a pretty good left and right if you ask me.”

9. if you could say one thing to your ceo, what would it be?

“i respect the business model you form. however, i’m still trying to understand it when applied to me. thirteen years, and i have yet to sit down and have a conversation with you. it’d be nice to have one someday.”

10. if you were auditioning for your company today, what would you perform for your audition, or what would you change from your original audition?

“my audition was so long ago. fourteen, fifteen years now, and that’s nearly half of my life. i wish i could remember parts — but there’s only the snippet of a ballad i sang, probably kim bum soo. all alongside some awkward dancing that bc shaped me up for. i’d probably pick a sung sikyung song instead.”

11. if you could do any special stage, what would it be and who would it be with?

”call it a weird match, but i’d have a set with duri, andy, joohwan, my maknae and jiah. well, those would be the people i’d know well enough to collaborate with, though the outcome might not be as promising as i initially thought. case closed, never make me do a special stage.”

12. what career opportunities would you like to pursue that you’ve yet to, or what achievements would you like to obtain that you’ve yet to?

“maybe a bit of variety? i’m completely happy where i am with acting, though it’d be better if decipher’s comebacks were rarer. however, i’m taking what i can get and variety might be a chance to show the side that doesn’t get shown when i’m playing a role on tv. i’ve heard from some people that i can be funny at times.”

13. if you could become a model or ambassador for any brand, what would you choose?

“as much as i like high fashion, i haven’t done any modeling in regards to brand deals with high fashion. a luxury brand would be nice — i hear prada has changed with the entrance of raf simons. i’ve been into the streetwear look lately after itaewon class, so that would be a current go-to. otherwise, i think i’m happy promoting good feel and credit cards.”

14. if you could be on any variety show, which one (or which type of one) would you want to be on?

“i live alone would be my first pick. only because i’ve decorated my house nicely recently, and haven’t had a chance to show it off to many people as i’m not home as often these days. however, that’d require an off day and i don’t have many of those lately. i think people would be shocked to see what i do when i’m around my house, lounging and rarely moving around.”

15. if you were offered the chance to become a ceo of an entertainment company, new or existing, would you take it? why or why not?

“as much as i’m leader of decipher, i don’t think i could handle leading a company. i wouldn’t want to become a ceo. it distracts from my own schedule, and i’d be too focused on my company rather than the hobbies and interests that appeal to me. sure, i’d make more money — but what’s more money on top of the money i already have? it’s counterproductive and i’d rather do what i like doing.”

16. what changes would you implement if you were the ceo of your company?

“each company runs on a specific pattern of events, and there’s a reason for that. a reason why routine shapes each group, so i wouldn’t necessarily change much. my trainee year was difficult, but it also fostered friendships within the group that i consider irreplaceable. the only change i can think of? maybe getting to know my artists rather than staying far off.”

17. what do you do to relieve the stress of idol life?

“i work out. i run a lot, and go to the gym as cliche as it sounds. but each role requires me to be in top shape, and after all that i’ve found a love for working out each morning. other than that, i like to shop and cook, even walk my dog. normal things any other person does on their day off. by the end of the day? finishing it off with a cold beer becomes my saving peace.”

18. what tips would you give to a trainee about to debut?

”push through it because it’s only a matter of time till debut happens. the trainee years are taken for granted, and you need to learn to treasure those moments. once debut happens, there’s no looking back and you’re constantly on the move — so, you’re better off enjoying now. also, don’t be afraid to approach sunbaes. we’re all in the same boat, been there and done that, so let us help where we can.”

19. what was the hardest part of being a trainee?

“singing while running around the room? i remember running too many laps, out of breath belting a high note. looking back, it was probably the time i thought i was going to end my trainee career right there and run to my parents. other than that? learning to live with others? i’ve lived a blessed life, and i’ve never had to share a room with anyone. that felt like a culture shock.”

20. did you enjoy the lifestyle of a trainee or of a debuted idol more?

“call me weird, but i’d say the trainee life. there was something special about those days, and now i’m so many years in my career and i miss the days crammed in the dorms. i don’t think there’s anything like it. the structure of it, the tears of joy and sadness all into one — every emotion all there. it’s rare moments like those i’ll never get back.”

21. what one song or album by another group or soloist would you have liked to release yourself?

“i’ve heard a lot of songs, but i heard a song recently by a charm member. one of the solo projects of dai, and his song let’s love was something that made me want to release music as well. maybe, it’s just inspiration just at that moment, but the song was something i enjoyed listening to. knight’s tempo was also something that i wish decipher was given, just because there’s a certain spark when it comes to the song.”

22. describe your dream sub-unit (members and concept).

“my dream sub-unit? does that relate to in-group or out of group? for the sake of this question, i’ll keep it in-group to simplify things. i’d like to keep our main vocal, myself and our lead rapper only because the maknae already has his thing in champion — though conceptually, i’m not sure what we’d be able to do. something non-dance related, i’d hope. perhaps, a power house vocal because i know our lead rapper can belt a few notes better than most main vocals of other groups.”

23. out of the following six options, would you rather be allowed to play a major hand in the lyrics, production, choreography, styling, music videos, or concepts you release?

“no lyrics, production or choreography. i’ve never been talented in that market, and maybe that’s why i don’t take part in any of these things. instead, i’d keep to the styling, and music videos — though, i don’t have an artistic eye. perhaps, i’d keep to styling as it lies most with my interests. my members might get bored of wearing the same dress shirts and slacks for each comeback.”

24. which of the two other companies (out of bc, dimensions, and gold star) you are not currently signed under would you rather be an artist in?

“none of the other two. i’ve said it time and time again that i’m loyal to bc — i might complain about it, sure. but in hindsight, i don’t see myself being in any other music company. now, if you had asked me in terms of acting? then, we’d have a different story between namoo, artist and vast.”

25. what is your least favorite part of being an idol?

“there’s no breaks, not for age. there’s little opportunity to cease the past, and continue on a new future. instead, i’m always tethered to the role of an idol, and despite how much i try — they still reel me back in each time for another comeback. on top of that, some songs don’t age well with time — decipher has a few of those. yet, because they’re fan favorites, i have no choice but to dance and sing along as if it’s 2009 again.”

26. what is your favorite part of being an idol?

“ironic, but there’s a lot of opportunities to try new things. i wouldn’t have thought of cf modeling or acting, if it weren’t for the opportunities presented to me. as a result, i’ve found a new enjoyment in an acting career due to the idol life. plus, along the way i meet different people to give me new insight — suppose it keeps me young again.”

27. would you rather be incredibly famous with a terrible reputation and hated by most or be fairly unknown with a good reputation and adored by those who know of you? why?

“i don’t know how to answer this one because being incredibly famous with a terrible reputation is just a cheapened output of your career you’ve built thus far. that would simply become a life unenjoyable, so by default i suppose i’d rather have the latter. fairy unknown with a good reputation because that way, you have a basis to build yourself up.”

28. what moment in your career are you proudest of so far?

“i’d either attribute it to parasite, which did win a lot of accolades not only in the country but out or i’d give it to the recent baeksang nomination for the dramas i was in. i don’t think i’d ever predict the success of stories i had a pleasure of working on. in retrospect, it was nice that so many people were able to relate and get along with the characters i was given the honor of portraying.”

29. what have you learned about yourself and/or society since becoming a celebrity?

“i’m no longer an extrovert. in fact, i’m more of an introvert. i used to think i was an extrovert, and one time i was when i was busy running around getting assimilated to those new faces. however, over the years, my circle’s only run short and i’ve been given little things here and there that make me want to preserve my small circle of people i’ve gotten to know along the way. i don’t like going out and partying, and much rather have a night in with dubu in peace.”

30. what would you like to change about how society views or treats idols?

“it’d be nice to be given more freedom — but isn’t that what everyone wants? i’m talking about stepping into something without facing backlash, or how we’re seen as approachable because we’re public figures. it’d be nice to sit down and have a meal without the thought of dispatch finding who i’m with, or scrutinizing any of my friendships. there should be some level of normalcy given, and i think that’s the least anyone could ask for.”

#fmdmeme001 #thanks to everyone that sent in!! :)#fmdkiana #fmdtaeyong #fmdjihoon #fmdsunghee #fmdjoosung #jiwonfmd #fmdting

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chaossmagic · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: 11 please for your prompts. Thanks.

(I fucked up how it posted in the orignal ask so...whoops. Here it is instead.)

Reunion 3.0/post-prison angst, fluff and hurt/comfort.

11. I don’t love you because I need you; I need you because I love you.

“Aaron, love, you need to think about this-”

“There’s nothing to think about, Mum, alright? You’ve seen the way he is. He needs support, he needs his family.”

“And you’re that for him, are ya? Because last time I checked, a divorce doesn’t exactly make a family, now, does it?”

“That’s done with now, it’s in the past. It was a blip, nothing more, it’s - it doesn’t mean anything Mum, not to me and not to Robert either, we’ve never cared about the legal stuff, we just want to be together.”

“I can’t let you run yourself to the ground playing babysitter for your self-pitying ex-husband!”

“Oh, so we’re doing this now, are we? Right now? When you have no idea what Robert’s been through-”

“You love him, Aaron, or at least you think you do, but he is using you as a crutch, you must see that, he’s clawing his way in again and - taking advantage of you knowin’ that you’ll keep coming back!”

“Shut up.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said SHUT UP!”

---

Robert was sitting on the sofa in the back room when Aaron walked in, sipping at a mug of steaming tea. He went over to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, fleeting and tender, before shrugging off his coat and sinking into the cushions next to him. “You alright?”

A noncommittal shrug. Robert’s shoulders were a tense line; Aaron could feel it, radiating off of him.

Aaron reached to cover Robert’s hand where it was wrapped around his mug with his own, sliding their fingers together, locked tight. “Hey,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Why are you with me, Aaron?”

The question took him by surprise; he frowned, searching Robert’s face for any hint of meaning, any reason why he’d be asking this now. He found none. Robert’s face was impassive and smooth as stone.

“Because I love you,” Aaron replied, as if it were obvious - it should be obvious. Shouldn’t it? “I love you, Robert, so - so much. Where’s this come from?”

“And I’m - I’m enough, for you?” he asked cautiously, eyes wide. “Even when I’m - the way that I am? Even when I have these?” He dug into the bag Aaron suddenly noticed he had on the floor by his feet, full of his keys and wallet and an old takeaway coffee cup, a packet of chewing gum gathering fur at the bottom. He pulled out a fistful of little bottles, showed them to him on his open palm.

Olanzapine. Sertraline. Temazepam. Aaron knew them all, had become familiar with them the minute he’d found out what they were.

Antipsychotics. Anti-anxiety and antidepressants. Sleeping pills.

The cocktail of drugs Robert was on to keep him from self-destructing while he recovered from the impact of prison life.

They were what were keeping him alive.

“I don’t want to become a burden to you, Aaron,” Robert said quietly. “I don’t want to become another Jackson.”

Aaron felt like the wind had been kicked out of his gut; he almost doubled over with it, his hand on Robert’s the only thing stopping him from falling off the sofa sideways in his shock.

“Robert,” he whispered, tears burning his eyes and throat, “why would you even say that? This is completely different from back then, surely you know that?”

He half-shrugged, a sad, wry smile on his face. “Do I?”

A memory came back to Aaron; earlier that day, shouting at his Mum, defending his love for the one man he wanted in his life above all others.

“I can’t let you run yourself to the ground playing babysitter for your self-pitying ex-husband!”

“My mum,” Aaron said hoarsely, realization dawning on him, “you heard her.”

“I used to live here, remember? I know how thin the walls are in this place,” Robert said.

If Aaron wasn’t less of a live wire as he used to be, he would have wanted to hunt his Mum down right now wherever she was and slap her across the face.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron began, stumbling over his words, “God, Robert, I’m so sorry-”

“She’s right,” Robert cut across him. “You don’t - I can’t expect you to - you’ve already done too much-”

“Robert,” Aaron said, slowly and deliberately, using the fingers of his free hand to tip Robert’s face up to his, fingertips light on the underside of his jaw and he could feel his erratic pulse beneath the skin. “You are everything to me. Do you understand that? And I will be here, as long as it takes, until you’re better again and we can - we can start a new life, yeah? We’ll start over. We’ll take Seb and we’ll start all over again and it’ll be amazin’.”

“I don’t want you to say you love me just because you think I need you,” Robert replied. “Not in that way.”

“I don’t. Robert, you’re never going to be a - charity case, or whatever, to me. You’re my husband. You’re the only one I’m ever going to want to be with and I’m not with you because I think you need me, or because I need you. I do need you, but it’s because I love you, you muppet, not the other way around.”

“You got older and wiser while I was in prison,” Robert commented lightly, eyes wet and shining.

“Yeah, you just got old,” Aaron snorted back.

Robert laughed, breaking the tense atmosphere; and Aaron laughed back with him, wheezing with it, Robert leaning into his shoulder and Aaron tucking his chin on top of Robert’s head, both of them shaking with mirth, and just like that it was them again, Aaron and Robert. Mr. Dingle and Mr. Sugden. Two pieces of a puzzle that had been lost and then suddenly found again, slotting together into place the way they had always been designed to.

#lorna's writing #robron #robron fic

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

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ONE HUNDRED FIFTY TWO - PETER (3)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

FULL STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING THREE MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 2,120ish

Summary: Bailey tries to reach out to Peter.

~~~

Four months later…

Bucky and I were still going strong. Everyone was extremely supportive of our relationship and Bucky and I actively worked to gather to help each other cope with our pasts. Morgan was the most supportive about our relationship, at least vocally. Her and Bucky were constantly up to no good. Steve and I’s friendship still wasn’t where either of us wanted it to be, but we kept trying. I had basically given up on trying to get Peter to open up to me, believing that he’d come to me in time.

The new Avengers Facility had finished construction about a month ago, though the world didn’t know that yet. We wanted to do a dedication ceremony. I insisted that we wait until we had formed a team before we did so. Bucky and I were the first residents of the facility, sharing a bedroom. We immersed ourselves in the Initiative, first on putting the world back together and then recruiting. I also immersed myself in Stark Industries. I was so busy that I barely had time to check in with anyone.

One day, while I was busy working on paperwork, I received a call from May Parker. She asked me to support her fundraiser and told me that Peter would be there as Spider-Man to boost moral. She told me that it was later that night and that she’d love to see me there, hanging up before I could respond. I leaned forward, nervously biting my thumb nail and bouncing my leg. Footsteps were heard coming from behind me, but I didn’t care. Strong hands came in contact with my shoulders and began massaging them.

“Why all the nervous energy?” Bucky wondered.

I leaned back into the man as he continued to massage. “May Parker just called.”

“And?”

“And I’m a disappointment to my father… I haven’t been keeping tabs on the kid like I should be.”

“You’ve had a lot on your plate. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“He’s basically my brother, Buck. Dad was the closest thing he’s had to a father in a long time. He’s been mourning his death too, and I haven’t been there for him.”

“What does this have to do exactly with May calling?”

“There’s a fundraiser tonight for those who’ve been displaced because of the blip. She asked if Stark Industries would donate and I attend. Peter’s going to be there as Spider-Man.”

“You should go.”

I looked up at him. “You think so?”

“I do.” He bent down and pecked my lips. “And, May apparently called Pepper first, who then called me to help get you there.”

“Those little she-devils,” I grumbled.

Bucky chuckled as he pecked my hairline. “I have an outfit laid out for you on our bed and a car waiting for you out front.”

I stood up, turning around and dropping my arms over his neck. “What would I do without you?”

“Never actually make a decision.”

“You’re probably right.” I shrugged.

He pecked my lips again. “Go get changed and see the kid. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turned me around and gave my butt a little smack. “Now go.”

I laughed as I walked away. My favorite outfit was waiting for me me, laid out on my bed as promised. I slowly got changed and ready, nervous the whole time. I just hoped that Peter didn’t hate me. In taking care of myself, Pepper, and Morgan, I had completely forgotten about my brother. There was a driver waiting for me in the car but I told him that I wanted to drive myself. I hopped in the driver’s seat, rolled down all the windows, and sped out of there. I took the long way into the city, trying to clear my head. I ended up being there thirty minutes late. I took a deep breath before exiting the car. I was looking down, putting the keys in my bag when I bumped into someone.

“Opps, sorry,” the man apologized.

I quickly looked up. There stood Happy, holding a giant check with Pepper’s signature on it. “Happy? What are you doing here?”

“Pepper couldn’t make it and asked me to deliver this.” He held the check up.

“She knew I was coming. Why didn’t she just ask me?”

“Uhh… Well… you see… She didn’t--“

“Oh,” I nodded in realization. “I get it, Happy.” I patted his shoulder, giving him a knowing smirk. “You’re here to see May.”

“I don’t know wha—“

“Don’t worry.” I winked as I began to walk inside backwards. “I’ll keep your little secret.” I turned around.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Bailey!”

“You can’t hide anything from me, Hap! I’m a mind reader, remember?”

I entered the ballroom just in time to see Spider-Man awkwardly giving the audience a thumbs-up. They were all clapping and cheering for him.

“Thank you Spider-Man,” May said as she went up to the mic. “He’ll be right back out to take photos and videos, thank you!”

The two headed backstage. I wandered over to the stage and found my to the back. By the time I got there, Happy was already making awkward small-talk with May and Peter was very confused while watching the interaction.

“Anyway, the reason I’m late is because this was misplaced,” Happy stated. It was a stupid excuse and I didn’t have to read his mind to tell it wasn’t true. “Can you believe it? Because it’s enormous. Not the amount, the size. The amount and the size.”

“Oh,” May laughed.

“The very generous Pepper Potts, said—“

“Thank you.”

“—she’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“But she did send me in her place,” I interrupted. The three of them quickly turned to look at me. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Bailey,” May came up and engulfed me in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too May.” She pulled away and I faced Peter. “Hey Pete.”

“Hey B,” he quietly responded.

“I think I’m going to go change the stereo under the vegan lasagna,” May stated as she took the check from Happy and turned to Peter. “Spider-Man, go shake hands.”

“Will do,” Peter responded as May left. He nervously hugged me. I inhaled his scent as he did the same with me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” We pulled away but my hands found his shoulders. “I’m sorry for failing to be there for you.”

“I’m fine.” I raised a questioning brow at him. “Really, B. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” I was unconvinced.

“Heads up,” Happy cut in. “Nick Fury is calling you.”

“Nick Fury’s going to call me?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Peter and I asked at the same time.

“Why? Because he probably has some hero stuff for you to do. You’re a superhero. He calls superheroes.”

“Well, I mean if it was really that important, he’d probably call someone else. Like Bailey. Not me.” Peter’s phone began ringing.

“Apparently not.” Happy said as Peter pulled his phone out from the bag. The three of us looked down at the phone. “No caller ID. That’s him.”

“I don’t really want to talk to Nick Fury.”

“Answer the phone,” Happy demanded.

“Why?’

“Because if you don’t talk to him, then I have to talk, and I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to him?”

“Because he’s scared,” I answered.

“Just answer the phone,” Happy said as he glared at me. Peter held up his phone and declined the call.

“You sent Nick Fury to voicemail?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t send Nick Fury to voicemail!”

“Did you hear that? They’re calling me. I got to go.” Peter started to back away. “I got to go.”

“You got to talk to him.”

“I’m going to call him. I promise you. I’m going to call him. I will.”

“You do not ghost Nick Fury!”

“I promise you, I’ll call him.” And then Peter was gone.

I sighed, very confused. “Why would Fury call you and Peter but not me?” I wondered. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t understand the way that man thinks,” Happy replied.

I made my way out to see how things were going with Peter. He was standing just off the stage, surrounded by people bombarding him with questions.

“What is it like to take over for Tony Stark,” a heard someone ask. I froze and could feel Peter’s anxiety grow. “Those are some big shoes to fill.”

“I’m, uh…” Peter was at a loss for words. “I’m gonna go. Thanks so much everyone, for coming.”

He quickly left out an open window. I rushed out of the building after him. I couldn’t find him from where I was standing. I sulked back to my car, trying to think of anything in there that I could use to find him. Ever since Tony died, I’d stopped wearing the nanotech suit. I hadn’t put it on since that day. I had even made myself a new one, but never had the nerve to try it out. I threw my head back when I sat down in the drivers seat. I went to start the car when I noticed a post-it note on the glove box. It simply said, ‘open it’. I opened it to find another post-it note on top of my new bracelet.

I read the note out loud to myself, “I thought you might need this. You got this. Love, Bucky.” I chuckled. “You just think of everything don’t you?”

I slipped on the bracelet as I exited the car. I got out my phone and quickly texted one of my in city assistants to pick up my car. After slipping my phone into my pocket, I pressed the button and activated my suit.

“Good evening, Miss Stark,” FRIDAY greeted.

“Good evening, FRI. Locate Peter for me will you?”

“He’s a few buildings down, on the roof.”

“Let’s go talk to him then.”

I flew up and FRIDAY took me to him. I silently came up behind him. He was crouched down, mask off, staring at the Iron Man mural on the building over.

I landed, making my suit disappear. I could feel the sadness rolling of off him. He wasn’t okay, and I became determined that he wouldn’t have to go through these feelings alone anymore.

“I only heard the last question,” I spoke up, “and I’m sorry. They shouldn’t have asked that.” No response. “The responsibility of being the next Iron Man does not fall on you. It doesn’t need to fall upon anyone. We both know that there’s only one Iron Man.”

Peter stood up and turned around. His eyes were red and puffy. My heart broke a bit at the sight. Peter was the reason Tony choose to fight to bring everyone back. I couldn’t let Peter know that but I needed to be better at doing what my father would want.

“Oh, Peter,” I took some steps forward. “I’m so sorry that I haven’t been there for you. I’ve only been concerned about myself that I forgot that Morgan and I weren’t his only kids.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” he rushed out his lie. “You have a lot on your plate.”

“And you should be one of those things. So from now on, I’m going to be better. How about you come stay a few days at the Facility once summer starts? Bucky and I would love to have you.”

“I would lov—“ He quickly shook his head when he fully took in what I had said. “Wait a minute— Did you say you and Bucky? As in like Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier?”

“Yes… um… yeah, him and I are kind of dating.” I could feel a tinge of hurt from him. He was sad that I had time for a new relationship but not for him. “Peter, I—“ I reached out for him.

“Thanks for the offer, Bailey. But I’m going on a school trip to Europe this summer.” He slipped on his mask. “I’ve got to go.” A web shot out and he swung away.

My head fell back as an unsteady sigh left my lips. I knew that going after him right now wouldn’t fix anything so I formed my suit around me and flew home. When I landed outside the facility, I could feel that Bucky was in our bedroom. I didn’t want to talk about Peter just yet, so I went straight to the lab and began working on fixing my suit.

next >

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quu-kii · 4 years

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Jake Gyllenhaal Filmography Ranking

My personal ranking of all Jake Gyllenhaal movies from October Sky onwards with some brief thoughts on each of the movies. Honestly the exact number ranking of these movies is probably not super accurate and could be liable to changes, but I tried my best with the ordering.

Amazing Tier (My favorites)

1. Brokeback Mountain - This is such an emotional and heartbreaking movie. I knew it was going to have a sad ending going into it, but still I was not prepared for how strongly it hit me in the feels. And it’s not just the ending that is sad; you can tell that the love between the two leads is doomed from less than the midpoint of the movie, and it keeps going downhill from there. Overall, I think the movie is a perfect tragic love story. As well, there’s this very subtle and natural feeling to the whole movie that is difficult to describe but works really well. There’s just something truly special about this movie that makes me want to place it as the #1 best of Jake’s movies.

2. Nightcrawler - A highly suspenseful movie with an amazing lead performance by Jake as the sociopathic lead character Lou Bloom. Jake is really a big part of what makes the movie great, as he is such a strong focus of it. Lou acts so off, but it’s just impossible to take your eyes off him, and he is so interesting to watch since you keep wondering what he will do next. The other part of what makes this movie great is the writing and dialogue. There are just so many memorable and great lines, especially for Lou. Along with these factors, the subject matter of the movie, that of the career of selling violent news footage to news stations, is pretty unique, and there are some interesting ideas and themes in the movie as well relating to success and the news media. Overall I really love this movie. If there’s one thing I would say I might not like about the movie, it is the music. It can have an uplifting and hopeful vibe in dark scenes, which lessens the tense mood of some scenes. But I understand that the music was made to reflect Lou’s mood in the scene, which is a very interesting decision in itself and helps add to Lou’s character, since you can notice the contrast between how disturbing the scenarios he is in are and how Lou himself feels in such scenarios. So I at least admire the music for this aspect.

3. Enemy - A tense and psychological movie. I really love the heavy and surreal atmosphere of this movie, added to by the yellowish filter which is present throughout the whole movie as well as the score, which is ominous and used to amazing effect in the movie to enhance the dark mood. Also, I think this movie is both enjoyable when taken in at face value, being about a man who finds that there is a doppelganger of himself, and when looking deeper at what the “real” story is, taking into account the symbolism and various small details placed throughout the movie. It’s an interesting movie to think about due to its openness to interpretation. And lastly, Jake does a great job playing the two lead characters in the movie; despite the characters looking the same, they give off quite a very different vibe.

4. Spider-Man: Far from Home - My favorite MCU movie. I love so many things about this movie: how it deals with the aftermath of the Blip in a light way, how it deals with Peter Parker’s character after Endgame and his desire to just be able to have a normal life, the overall story, the setting being Europe and having this fresh vacation feeling, the fight scenes, and of course Mysterio. Along with this, it has great music (especially Mysterio’s theme) and probably the best mid credits and post credits scenes in the MCU due to their plot relevance. All of the characters are very likeable too, from Peter and all his classmates and teachers to others like Nick Fury and Mysterio, which is important to me since likable characters is one of the most important aspects to me in any kind of story. This movie was such a pleasant surprise after Endgame, which was a great disappointment to me. Also, this movie is special to me because it’s how I discovered the awesomeness of Jake and thus indirectly the reason why I watched all his movies and made this list in the first place. I’m not sure if a future MCU movie can top this for me, but who knows.

Great Tier

5. Nocturnal Animals - A harsh movie with an interesting structure of having two main stories, with one of the stories being a story within the main story (I will call this story the 2nd story for brevity). I think the 2nd story is where the movie really shines. This story was so tense and much more interesting to follow compared to the main story, and Jake portrayed the emotions of anguish and despair so well in it. It’s also interesting to think about how the 2nd story links with the main story, which gives more depth to the overall story of the movie. I find this and Brokeback Mountain to be the most emotionally harrowing of Jake’s movies, which is definitely a compliment since I admire when a work is able to make me feel so strongly. Also, I have to note that I disliked that there was a random jumpscare in the middle of the movie. It doesn’t lower my opinion of the movie, but I really don’t like jumpscares and did not expect one in this movie.

6. Source Code - A really solid sci-fi movie about Jake’s character repeating through a time loop. It is the only Jake movie to make me cry due to me being a sucker for tragic scenarios involving time loops/parallel worlds. It was just a very engaging movie to watch due to the intriguing premise and the very good execution of said premise.

7. Zodiac - I didn’t know that this movie was based off true events until almost the end of it. So the whole time, I was expecting there to be a conclusive ending when there was no way this would be the case, since the Zodiac killer case to this day hasn’t been solved. Because of this, I felt initially disappointed about this movie from a story perspective, since all the clues from the movie seemed to lead to nothing. This is my biggest “flaw” about the movie (and it’s not really the movie’s fault), but this factor aside I really liked this movie. Jake, RDJ, and Mark Ruffalo are all great in it, and I love murder mysteries so much, so the story had me hooked on this alone. It’s so interesting to watch the characters piece together clues for the case and try to unravel the mystery, as well as seeing how the case progresses (or well, doesn’t progress at times) over the years. Also, this movie just feels really good to watch; as in, the scenes and shots flow together so well. It’s a great movie overall I think.

8. The Sisters Brothers - A western with a kind of laid back feel to it. Also supposedly it is a comedy, but I found it not funny at all. It’s not that I see the movie attempting jokes and find that they don’t work; it’s more like I don’t see the attempt at humor at all, unless maybe it’s kind of a weird dark humor thing. Anyways, I really like this movie, and it’s mostly because I really like the main four characters and their dynamics with each other. Jake does a great job playing his character John Morris and has an accent which is pleasant to my ears, though I was sad that he (as well as Riz Ahmed) wasn’t in the movie more. Even though I was watching the movie for Jake, I found myself liking John C. Reilly’s and Joaquin Phoenix’s characters, the two leads, a lot as well. It’s a movie that shines because of the characters for me.

Very Good Tier

9. Donnie Darko - A pretty unique coming of age story with sci-fi elements. I’m still not sure what to think of this movie, though I think I liked it. Some of my favorite scenes are where Donnie goes off on these rants about what he believes to be the truth. These scenes are amazing to me.

10. Prisoners - I actually find the story of this movie to be not that great. However, what elevates the movie is Hugh Jackman and Jake and their amazing performances. Funnily enough, I found myself siding with Hugh’s character and against Jake’s as they both simultaneously tried to solve the case. Also, this movie is just really exciting and engaging to watch and is maybe one of the easiest to recommend movies on this list due to these factors.

11. The Day After Tomorrow - This isn’t a very deep movie or anything, but it’s a really solid disaster flick in my opinion. I love the visuals, and Jake is such a cutie in this movie, a factor that really elevates it for me.

12. The Good Girl - It looked like a comedy or something from the outside, but actually this is a rather bleak movie. It’s one of the duology of the Jake-being-into-older-married-women movies (and the much better of the two for me). I find this movie pretty underrated.

13. October Sky - It’s an uplifting and inspiring movie, and I love how Homer’s relationship with his father is portrayed here.

14. Okja - I love the stylized vibe of this movie. Jake isn’t in the movie that much, but I really like every time he shows up. He goes full wacky here and it’s fun to watch.

15. Brothers - Tobey Maguire is the real star here. I think he was great in the movie and I could really feel the emotions of his character, especially after he comes back from the war and is in a troubled state of mind.

16. Stronger - A good based on real life movie about a survivor of the Boston Marathon Bombing. Jake does a great job as usual, and I think the emotions of the story came through well.

17. Wildlife - A really simple and subdued story about a family, but I think it works well in the movie. It has a very quiet and natural feeling to it.

Ok Tier

18. Demolition - A quirky feeling movie about a guy trying to deal with the death of his wife. The scene with Jake dancing in the city is my favorite part. Also I thought Jake’s friendship with the kid in the movie was a highlight.

19. Bubble Boy - It's kind of a dumb movie with some maybe offensive humor, but I thought it was pretty enjoyable regardless. Jake is so adorable as the main character Jimmy, and it was fun to follow his journey across the country and seeing all the interesting characters he meets.

20. Proof - I thought it was pretty good, but then the movie ended just when I thought it was starting to ramp up the story to the conclusion. This factor brought the movie down for me.

21. Life - The monster design for this movie was pretty cool, and I liked the ending and the general space horror vibe. However, I didn’t feel much for any of the characters.

22. Everest - It was ok, but I wasn’t really into any of the characters here.

23. Southpaw - I think this movie is very impressive for Jake’s resume, considering how he trained a lot and learned boxing for it. However as a movie itself, I didn’t really feel much for it and felt like it wasn’t doing much special in the story department. I liked some of the parts in the earlier half though.

24. End of Watch - I just wasn’t feeling this movie. Maybe it was the found footage style or something. I feel a bit sad about not digging this movie since I see it is generally one of the more well liked ones in Jake’s filmography.

25. Jarhead - I really don’t like the vulgar tone throughout this movie, but I do like the general story and message. Also the movie looks really good.

Not That Great Tier

26. Velvet Buzzsaw - I love Jake’s character Morf so much as well as the general premise. However the movie itself wasn’t too great: I found most of the characters besides Jake’s to be unlikable, and also the movie felt cheap. It’s very disappointing since the concept for the movie (horror in an art gallery) seems so promising.

27. Prince of Persia - This was the first Jake movie I saw back in the day around the time of its theater release. I have to say I find this to be Jake’s weakest acting performance out of all his movies. For me, good acting is when the actor feels very natural as the character and is somehow magnetizing to watch. But for some reason I did not get a very natural vibe from Jake as Dastan in this movie. I do think he looks very beautiful in this movie though with his long hair, so that’s a big plus. The story of this movie feels pretty cliché and kind of lifeless in a way, but I still liked it alright.

28. Highway - I don’t really like the sleazy tone of this movie. However, I think Jake is very adorable in this movie and has this pure wide-eyed vibe about him (despite him being a drug dealer and sleeping with prostitutes and such).

29. Rendition - I found this movie to be aggressively boring for the most part. There’s this subplot which I was unsure why I should even care about until a reveal near the end of the movie, when it was too late to start caring at all. However Jake in a bloody shirt towards the beginning of the movie makes for some good screencaps and gifs, and I learned about the term extraordinary rendition through searching about it after the movie.

30. Moonlight Mile - I guess this movie might be considered technically good because it tells the story it sets out to do fairly well, but I just found it very boring. There is a part towards the end with Jake’s character being very emotional which I really liked.

31. Lovely & Amazing - It's actually decent, but really not my type of movie. It’s the 2nd of the duology of the Jake-being-into-older-married-women movies.

Just No Tier

32. Accidental Love - I actually enjoyed the beginning parts of this movie (though what’s with the constant dutch angles in the earlier parts?), and ironically it is around the point of the introduction of Jake’s character where I felt like it started to nosedive. I felt my soul slipping away and my IQ dropping by the end of the movie.

33. Love & Other Drugs – I really, really don’t like this kind of raunchy sex comedy movie. That’s all.

#jake gyllenhaal #text #brokeback mountain #nightcrawler #enemy #spiderman far from home #nocturnal animals #source code #zodiac #the sisters brothers #donnie darko #prisoners

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years

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One “Wrong” Turn | Peter Parker & Stephen Strange

Pairing: none, just the spiderling and the sorcerer bonding ^_^

Style: One Shot (might write more later??)

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: mention of a very sad death :((((

Summary: @lifeonthesideoftheangels said: “Ok but now that Tony’s gone, until it’s proven otherwise its cannon to me that Peter just casually hangs out at the sanctorum after class and Strange pretends to be annoyed at first but secretly enjoys having him around and starts teaching him everything he knows. #also Wong constantly comes in to Peter just hanging upside down from the rafters reading one of the ancient books and Strange levitating and is like “yo I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?”” - og post

A/N: so this took longer than expected but also i love this duo and i might write more later but im not sure yet. hope you enjoy ^_^

if you want to be tagged in future fics, please send an ask ^_^

| My Masterlist |

Peter never intended to take a wrong turn, or a right depending on how you see it. That first time, he just walked with that lump in his gut that had been lingering for forever. He walked, choked up because it had been his first day back to school and all everyone could talk about was the blip (seriously why is it called that?). And all Peter could do was try not to choke up, try not to let the tears run as he heard Tony’s name.

When the bell rang and they were free to go, Peter didn’t hesitate to get out of there. But instead of the usual survey of the neighborhood and trying to find a way to impress… well, the person he wanted to impress wasn’t there anymore.

So, he wandered. First, he went the usual way home, but he took a turn sometime before the apartment and wandered straight. Exactly why he walked so long, he didn’t know. Where he ended was in no way on the way home, and checking his clock, he had walked longer than he thought.

The building he stood in front of was big, three floors tall. Windows lined the orange brick walls, but they were impossible to see through. And the only reason he knew he was at the right place was the giant circular window at the top of the building. Brown lines in the glass created something that hinted to an H but with two strikes through the bottom. Peter wasn’t sure what exactly the symbol was for, but he hadn’t talked much with Mr. Strange to know either.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Or, he tried to knock, but instead the door opened and he kind of stumbled in trying to regain his balance. The first thing he saw was a set of stairs, and down those stairs, levitated Mr. Strange. Peter gulped at the sight, seeing as the man probably did not want him there.

“Mr. Parker,” he said, “what may I help you with?”

Peter shook his head. “Uhh, Mr. Strange, I―”

“Doctor Strange.”

Peter frowned and the sorcerer gestured for him to continue. “Uh, I just walked, like real far, and I’m not sure why I came here but I… I don’t want to go home.”

“And therefore you came here?” The man raised a brow, but Peter still couldn’t read more of his expression. “I guess this is a hard time for you. May I offer something to drink?”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to intrude, but…”

Doctor Strange shook his head. “Today, only.” He turned around. “Follow me.”

Peter happily obliged.

At the top of the stairs, Strange took a right and Peter followed after as fast as he could. The hallway ended in a kind of common room area, where Peter stopped, unsure of what to do. And only sat down as Strange told him to.

“I’m not gonna be a therapist, I’m more of a surgeon actually, but do you need to talk to someone?”

Something cool to the touch appeared in Peter’s hands. He looked down to find a coke in his hands, and he glanced weirdly up at Strange.

“Would you like something else?” the man asked.

Peter shook his head. “No, no, this is nice. Thank you.” He took a sip, only to down the entire bottle as he underestimated how dry his throat really was. In fact, he should’ve drank water, but he didn’t want to say anything. As he put down the bottle, it refilled and his eyes drifted wide-eyed between the bottle and the Sorcerer in front of him.

The sorcerer clapped his hands. “Now, please feel free to do homework here, and leave me to do my own work.”

“I don’t have any homework yet. It was the first day of school today.”

Strange sighed and shook his head. “Well, you can still leave me to do my own work.” And then the male disappeared.

---

How long Peter sat there, bored and staring into nothingness, he wasn’t sure, but eventually, he decided to explore a little. He found that the floor he was on was mainly living room space. There were bedrooms, more than one kitchen, or there might only be one but he got confused, and the common area he had been in. At some point, he found a set of stairs that took him into the third floor.

It was here his curiosity spiked. Everywhere around him, there were bookcases filled to the rim with books. Most didn’t really gain his attention as they were all rather dusty and old, but he figured they were probably all interesting if you wanted to learn. He walked around, and a lot of the things there did not look like magical artifacts, but he suspected they were.

Most looked like everyday things, like the radio that got his attention. It looked rather old, but maybe it worked. He was about to put his finger to it, when a voice echoed in the room, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Peter whipped around to find Strange levitating a few meters away, a book in his hand and a quick glance up at Peter. “Does it work?” asked Peter.

“Well, if by work you mean it will kill you after one touch, yes. If you mean that it works like a radio, no.”

Eyes wide, Peter turned back to it once more. “Really, it kills at one touch?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t try if I were you, but yes, it should.” Strange let out a chuckle behind him.

Peter nodded. His feet padded over to the next thing that caught his attention; The massive circular window with the double striked H. He turned to look at Strange. “What does this mean?”

The man levitated over to where he stood. “It is called the Seal of the Vishanti,” he replied, “or the ‘Window of the Worlds’. I wouldn’t expect you to know, but the Vishanti are three god-like Principalities who each exist in their own realm. The Omnipotent Oshtur, Hoary Hogarth and Agamotto the All-Seeing. Together they act as one to empower the magical spells of sorcerers, throughout realities and dimensions, who invoke them. It also protects the Sanctum from a series of threats.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” said Peter and studied the Seal further. “Are there other cool things here?”

Doctor Strange smiled fondly. “Plenty.”

---

The Sanctum bathes in sunlight that filters in through the windows. Silence has taken over the room, only broken when a page turns or a sigh can be heard.

Peter hangs from the rafters, sticking to them upside down and turning the pages of one of the books Strange allowed him to touch. He doesn’t understand half of the words he sees, but the pictures are fascinating and he wishes he did.

He would ask, if it weren’t for the fact that the sorcerer with the answers is levitating across the room, eyes closed and doing something that looks like meditation. As Strange gotten cozy as that, he’d given Peter a very sure stare of ‘do-not-disturb’. Of course, the man had also said to be left alone for at least an hour.

However, that hour isn’t up yet and Peter has been going through the same book for so long he’s getting kind of bored. He closes the book again, as carefully as he can, and drops down a little to place it on the table underneath him. The thud it makes as it hits the table has him glance to the levitating man, but it elicits no reaction.

With a sigh of relief, Peter moves around. He knows not to touch anything (or he knows he might die if he does), so he only studies them from afar. But nothing fascinates him long enough to keep his attention, and there are only so many artifacts in the room. Nor does it help that none of them have a description plaque as they do in museum.

Peter slings around a little more, careful to not use big movements and accidentally knocking something down. Though the thought does cross his mind as the minutes tick by increasingly slower.

His hazel eyes skim the titles of the books. Nearly every title reads as Book of something. Book of Fire, Book of Demonicus, Book of Shataki, Book of the Vishanti. He finds the fact there there exists something called the Necronomicon (which he thinks has to do about necromancy) highly interesting. Also, The Scroll of Eternity sounds like something he would like to read, though he has no idea exactly how to.

In the end, as Peter gets to impatient, he gingerly―with a glance to the sorcerer whose eyes are still closed―takes the Book of the Vishanti from the bookcase. After hearing more about the three deities behind the Seal, he wants to know more. Surely, Strange can’t find his interest bad, maybe annoying, maybe a little concerning, but definitely not bad.

Back in the rafters, Peter lets his fingers run along the edge of the book. It feels ancient; rough binding that’s probably only so because it’s old; worn back; papers half sticking out, darkened by the years it’s existed. The cover has the Seal of the Vishanti on the front. It pokes out, feels metallic and cold under Peter’s fingers.

Opened, the book seems to grow in size, heavier under Peter’s touch. The pages of the book aren’t as worn as they looked before he opened it. A light brown, resembling a coffee stain, creeps its way in from the edges, and the paper itself is a darker, less white shade. On the front page, the Seal of Vishanti greets him again, almost weighing him down.

Peter placed the book into the middle of his left palm, making sure it’s balanced well so he doesn’t lose it―that would be catastrophical. With his right hand, he turns the pages. Nothing interesting at the first few, much like the usual books he reads.

Turning the pages, he doesn’t actually seem to understand anything of this book either. He notes some of the words, tries his best to understand them together, but the context makes no sense. To him, it’s just a bundle of words.

But he does find it entertaining. Making no sense, the book itself just become some lame joke. And Peter laughs, in a way he sees as ‘quietly’.

Understandably, it is not that quiet. Strange, where he levitates―his hour has to be up soon, right?―peeks open an eye and glances at the smiling spiderling hanging upside down on the ceiling. Peter’s senses tingle to the onlooking eye and he turns to look at the sorcerer.

“Which book?” comes the deep voice from across the room.

Peter holds a finger where he is and shows Strange the cover. The Seal being easily recognizable, Strange smiles slightly, which has Peter frown.

“Good choice,” the doctor says, “but you have no idea what it means, do you?”

He shakes his head. “No, uhh, it’s funny, though.”

Strange nods, and―Peter is not sure how because the movement doesn’t really exist―levitates to where Peter hangs. “I believe that.” He takes the book from Peter’s hands. With slender fingers, he files through the pages and lands on one in the far back―did the book just gain pages?

“Here, this should amuse you.” Strange hands Peter he book, a finger pointing to one of the passages.

Peter takes it. His eyes land where Strange’s finger points. The lines look rather blurry, the pages far more worn here than at the start―odd. He reads one sentence, a smile on his face, and then the next.

But he only gets halfway through before footsteps are heard. Both Peter and Strange shoot their heads up and look at Wong as he enters the Sanctum. The man raises a brow at the two, both high up in the ceiling instead of the many chairs they could have taken.

The bewilderment doesn’t last long. “Yo, I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?” Wong asks, his eyes glancing between Peter and Strange.

Peter’s eyes widen and he nods frantically, nearly dropping the book―thank god for quick reflexes. “Yeah, I’m starving,” he replies, “what’re you getting?”

“Thinking pizza, just to make it easy.”

Water fills Peter’s mouth as he thinks about the many good pizzas it’s possible to eat in New York city. He nods, even more frantically than before. “I would like three, thank you,” he says.

Both Strange and Wong frown at him. “Three slices?” they ask.

Peter shakes his head. “Three pizzas.”

Despite that being a lot of food for one person, the two sorcerers only shrug and nod. Wong looks to Strange, “and you?”

The man takes a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

Now it’s Peter’s and Wong’s turn to stare quizzically at Strange, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Wong shakes his head and rolls his eyes in Peter’s direction, making the teenager try to hide a smile.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Peter wishes it’ll be here now. There are two sorcerers in this building, can’t they just magic the pizza?

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

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