#Nick carraway angst

[madsgotmadagain]

songs I think can be Nick Carraway coded

[artsyfartsypaige]

Some self indulgent Nick Carraway angst art. I imagine that he would have a few scars from his time on the front. However, I think he would try to hide them.

[donotlookatmepleaseandthankyou]

"A Heart Full of Love" but Gatsby is Marius, Daisy is Cosette, and Nick is Eponine

[radiance4rrow]

bashing my head agajnst a wall bc why did I think about Natsby kiss but its with the Ineffable husband scene

[swan-of-sunrise]

Let It Out, and Let It In

Summary: Spiraling under the immeasurable weight of his trauma, Steve desperately seeks out the company of his girlfriend and, after experiencing a panic attack in her presence, unexpectedly finds himself opening up to her about his mental health.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a detailed depiction of a panic attack and a frank discussion about Steve Rogers’ trauma

A/N: Hi guys! I've been an MCU/Steve Rogers fan for damn near a decade now, and it hasn't escaped my notice that Steve's trauma has a tendency of being overlooked and overshadowed. So today, we'll be getting a glimpse of his ongoing mental health struggles (I promise you it's not all angst!) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Let It Out, and Let It In September 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

“Should’ve called ahead, Rogers,” Steve chastised himself under his breath as he knocked three times on (Y/N)’s front door. He shoved the hood of his sweatshirt off his head and roughly combed his fingers through his hair, the poor attempt to straighten up his appearance for his girlfriend doing very little to distract from his spiraling mental state.

Like many, Steve didn’t exactly have fond memories of high school. While everyone around him seemed to struggle a little as they transitioned from awkward adolescence to mature adulthood, he always felt as though he was one massive step behind them without any hope of catching up. One aspect of high school he did appreciate, though – apart from his friendship with Bucky and his beloved art – were his English courses; he devoured each of the novels, plays and poems that they were assigned to read and thoroughly enjoyed writing themes that analyzed their deeper meanings. One of his favorite books had been The Great Gatsby and even eighty years later, he could still recall the telling exchange that Jay Gatsby shared with Nick Carraway towards the beginning of their friendship: ‘You see, I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad thing that happened to me.’

The brief line of Gatsby’s dialogue managed to stick with Steve long after he’d finished reading the book, initially because he couldn’t imagine how one’s life could become so lonely but eventually, because he’d come to understand Gatsby’s words all too well; he suffered the loss of his mother and Bucky, went into the ice in 1945 and woke up to find that nearly seventy years had passed him by, grappled with the losses of all his fellow Howling Commandos and helplessly watched as the last personified tie to his past slowly succumbed to dementia. Like Gatsby, Steve preferred the company of strangers; they made it easier for him to ignore the crippling loneliness because they never bothered to try and get to know the traumatized twenty-seven-year-old man behind the red, white and blue shield.

Things began to change for him not long after the Battle of New York. He befriended Natasha, one of his fellow Avengers, and she tried her best to acclimate him to his new life; maybe it was a result of all she’d suffered at the hands of the Red Room or because she was just incredibly adept at reading people, but Nat knew that he was struggling and in her own unique way, she did everything she could to be there for him. He met Sam and (Y/N), leaving his apartment for his usual morning run around the National Mall wearing a serious scowl but departing for his S.H.I.E.L.D. mission afterwards with a truly happy smile on his face; Sam soon became one of his best friends, the VA trauma counselor understanding his difficulties with adjusting to his new life but never treating him differently because of them, and he found himself falling in love with (Y/N), the historical-fiction novelist bursting into his life like sunshine on a cloudy day and making him feel truly seen for who he was instead of the larger-than-life mantle he carried. And with the help of (Y/N), Sam and Nat, he grew closer to his fellow Avengers, even finding himself beginning to view them as his family and accepting the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore.

But while Steve had slowly grown to love and appreciate his new life, there were still some days when the reality of his situation would weigh heavily on his mind and it was only a matter of time before he’d break down into a full-blown panic attack; he did his best to hide his struggles from his girlfriend and friends, not wanting to hurt their feelings or make them feel that they weren’t enough for him, but it was becoming harder and harder for him to pretend that everything was all right. It was one of those awful days that saw Steve impulsively asking Nat to land the Quinjet at Joint Base Andrews on their way home from a mission in Argentina; the assassin did as he asked without question, but he could feel her concerned gaze following him as he walked down the ramp and marched across the airstrip alone. Ignoring the mounting pressure in his chest, he elected to do what he’d often do before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and take a walk through the streets of D.C., following in Jay Gatsby’s footsteps and surrounding himself with strangers to avoid addressing the memories of his old life that were clawing their way to the forefront of his mind.

With the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his face and his hands shoved into its pockets, Steve trudged down North Capitol Street with his eyes downcast, prolonging his return to his dark and impersonal apartment and the panic attack that would inevitably follow. Dusk had already fallen and downtown, the city’s nightlife was beginning to ramp up; restaurants were packed with families visiting the historic city and cheerful groups of friends pulled one another into the bars and nightclubs, while couples walked arm-in-arm and took in the glimmering lights that illuminated the city’s imposing monuments. It wasn’t until Steve walked past a bookstore and caught sight of (Y/N)’s debut novel, For Queen and Country, proudly displayed in the window that he felt his mind beginning to clear and a small smile tug on his lips. In that instant, Steve was engulfed by an overwhelming need to see his girlfriend and he continued walking down the street at an increased pace, spurred on by the sunshine that might succeed in breaking through the bleak isolation he found himself consumed by.

Steve forced himself out of his musings just as the door swung open to reveal (Y/N); he was pleased to see that she was dressed for a comfortable night in, with a well-loved Lauryn Hill concert t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, but it was evident by the white strip adhered to her nose and the hair towel balanced on her head that he’d interrupted her evening. “Steve!” (Y/N), unaware of the guilt he was experiencing for interrupting her relaxing evening, smiled broadly and opened her door wider. “I’ve really got to stop listening to Sam; that lying Birdbrain told me you guys wouldn’t be back from Argentina until tomorrow.”

“The mission wrapped up a lot quicker than we’d initially anticipated, so Sam’s off the hook fir lying this time,” Steve replied with a small smile as he shoved his fidgeting hands into his pockets. “I, um, I’m really sorry that I didn’t call or text you before coming over, but I was on my way home and I…anyway, I can leave if I’m intruding-”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not intruding!” Standing the side, (Y/N) allowed him to step through the doorway and closed the door before turning to give him a sheepish smile. “After spending all day going over my book’s first draft with Greg, I treated myself to a bubble bath and I may or may not have fallen asleep in the tub; I woke up in lukewarm water and my fingers were all pruney, but it was a damn good nap.”

“You’ve been working hard on your novel, sunshine; if anyone deserves a little rest and relaxation, it’s you.” Steve slipped off his sneakers and neatly placed them near the entryway table, straightening and chuckling when his girlfriend launched herself into his arms and nuzzled her face against his chest. “Did you miss me?”

(Y/N) nodded and tightened her arms around his waist. “I always miss you whenever you’re away on a mission, sweetheart.”

Steve’s heart melted and before he knew it, one of his arms was holding her close while his hand was guiding her face upwards so that his lips could meet hers; their kiss was slow yet passionate, with each of them doing all they could to savor their rare moment of peace, but his initial reason for visiting the historical-fiction novelist made its presence known in his mind and saw him give her one last kiss before pulling away with a forced smile. “Me too, baby. I just…I really needed to see you.”

(Y/N)’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied him but to his surprise and overwhelming gratitude, she didn’t ask him what was wrong or if he was all right. Instead, she took both of his hands in hers and playfully swung their arms while giving him a coy smile. “I was about to try my luck at cooking dinner and since my culinary skills aren’t exactly up to par, I could really use the assistance of a big, strong Avenger. Do you know if any of them are brave enough to accept this dangerous mission?”

“I think I’m up for the challenge, ma’am,” Steve impishly replied and his overstated authoritative tone made (Y/N) giggle as she led him into the kitchen to prepare dinner. “Can I, um, ask what’s on your nose?”

“Oh, it’s for unclogging oil and dead skin cells from pores! It’s a little gross to remove but at the same time, kind of satisfying. Did you want to try one out for yourself?”

“…Sure, why not?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While helping his girlfriend cook dinner wasn’t quite as dangerous of a task as she’d made it out to be, Steve certainly had his hands full with making sure she didn’t over-season or burn anything in her eagerness to prove her minimal culinary skills; most importantly, however, cooking alongside (Y/N) helped to take his mind off the incapacitating loneliness that drove him to her doorstep in the first place. They sat at the dining room table to enjoy their chicken parmigiana with angel hair pasta and broccoli and (Y/N) even brought out a pricier bottle of red wine to enjoy with their food, a gift she claimed was sent by Tony and Pepper to congratulate her for winning the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Historical Fiction. Steve listened to (Y/N) talk about the last-minute touches being placed on what would soon be her second published novel with rapt attention, voicing his amazement when she revealed which of her favorite authors would be joining her at an upcoming writing convention and chuckling as she told him about the playful argument she’d gotten into with her publisher about certain spelling choices in her draft.

After they finished their meal, they cleaned up the sizable mess they’d made in the kitchen, with Steve washing the dirty dishes and (Y/N) drying and putting them away; they fell into a comfortable silence while they worked, and he found himself focusing on her soft humming as he deliberated over whether or not to open up to her about the complex emotions he was fighting to control. He loved his girlfriend with all his heart, but it was because of his love for her that he hesitated to fully open up and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why: he was not only afraid that he’d hurt her feelings if he told her that he still struggled to acclimate to the twenty-first century, but he was also afraid that the truth would only serve to drive her away. The memory-wiping device from that Will Smith alien movie Tony made me watch could solve all of my problems in the blink of an eye, he sullenly thought with a sideways glance at a blissfully unaware (Y/N) putting away their dishes, you can’t miss something that you don’t have any memories of.

With the kitchen scrubbed clean and the comforting sound of a light rainfall outside echoing throughout the cozy home, Steve and (Y/N) took to the couch to watch some television. The historical-fiction novelist dissolved into a fit of giggles after applying a cleansing strip to Steve’s nose and he happily indulged her by posing for the selfie she all but begged for his permission to take. After she took several pictures and disposed of their cleansing strips, he pulled her into his arms and soundly kissed her, finding that the dark cloud that hung over him was slowly but surely dispersing the longer she kissed him back.

“Do you feel like watching a movie?” (Y/N) breathlessly asked after they’d finally separated for air. A knowing smile was beginning to spread across her face as she realized they’d moved positions during their impromptu make-out session; the historical-fiction novelist was lying flat on her back while he held himself above her and as he deviously grinned down at her, she twirled her fingers around his sweatshirt’s drawstrings and shrugged offhandedly. “Not that I have any problem with continuing our current activities, of course-”

“Neither do I.”

His girlfriend’s smirk widened at his hasty reply. “But TCM’s been airing a really good screwball comedy marathon all day, and I was thinking that we could give it a watch. I guarantee that my world-famous Milk Duds-and-popcorn concoction pairs excellently with a glass of top shelf red wine and 1935’s Top Hat, so how ‘bout it?”

Steve’s smile instantly dropped at her otherwise innocuous statement. His lungs began to restrict, his vision blurred and it was as though someone had suddenly flipped a switch inside of his hippocampus; all at once, jarring flashes of cloudy memories flooded his mind and overtook his vision.

Bucky dragging Steve along on another double date and insisting that this one would be different than the other failed dates he’d arranged…his throat constricting as his date scowled at the sight of him…sitting in a darkened theater beside the highly displeased woman and throwing his best friend an envious look as he smoothly draped an arm over his smitten date’s shoulders…trying his damndest to enjoy the hit Astaire & Rogers musical-comedy so that his night wouldn’t be so miserable…

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Fists tightening in anger when he saw a furious-looking man dragging his date up the aisle while she begged him to calm down…staggering to his feet in the alleyway behind the theater and throwing another punch at the laughing man, only for him to easily dodge and shove him against the nearby dumpster…fighting to catch his breath as he crumpled to the grimy ground and panicking when he recognized the tell-tale signs of an oncoming asthma attack…frantically grabbing at his pockets in search of his asthma cigarettes, fully conscious of Bucky’s shouting and his date’s frightened scream but unable to stop the black dots from invading his vision…

“You’re having a panic attack, Steve, so I need you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me? C’mon, sweetheart, just breathe.”

Bucky’s hand colliding with his bruised cheek and stunning him back to consciousness long enough for his best friend to practically shove a lit asthma cigarette between his lips…inhaling the smoke and clutching his ribs as his body was wracked with a violent coughing fit…calling out for his mother the moment he regained his breath, only to break down into heaving sobs when he remembered that she’d been gone for nearly six months…

“Steve, look at me.” The sudden feel of his fingers pressed against a soft warmth finally forced Steve’s eyes open; although he was crouched in the corner of his girlfriend’s living room instead of a dingy alleyway behind Bay Ridge’s Alpine Cinema, his chest was still heaving under the strain of regaining his breath and his entire body was trembling. He focused on the blurry figure and realized in a flash of fear that it was (Y/N) kneeling on the floor before him, looking calm and composed as she held his hand against the side of her neck and gently spoke to him. “Take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, like this.” The historical-fiction novelist completed the breathing exercise and nodded in approval when he shakily copied her. “That’s it, you’re doing so well, sweetheart. What are three things you can see?”

“You,” Steve automatically replied, making his girlfriend smile as his eyes darted around in search of two more items. “Sam’s bowl of wine corks…the lamp that you found at that estate sale a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good, good, but don’t forget to keep on breathing. What’re three things you can hear?”

He took another deep breath and released it before answering. “The rain falling on the rooftop above us…the refrigerator’s ice-maker refilling itself…the ticking of the clock in the entryway.”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched his and he spotted the flicker of trepidation that briefly flashed across them while she studied his features. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Now, can you touch three things for me and tell me what you feel?”

“Y-Yeah…” Steve swallowed thickly, his stiff fingers slowly flexing against the skin of his girlfriend’s neck as he focused on all he could feel. “Your pulse. It’s strong and steady. I can feel the warmth of the blood flowing through your veins.” Emboldened by her encouraging nod, he brought his other hand up to rest flat against his chest and stretched out his fingers along the material of his sweatshirt. “My sweatshirt’s soft, and my fingers catch on its embroidered logo…” He lowered his hand to touch the living room’s hardwood floor and winced at the unpleasant sensation. “The floor’s cold. All I can think about is the moment I crashed the Valkyrie into the ice.”

The historical-fiction novelist raised her arms but suddenly halted her movements. “Are you up for a hug right now?” Instead of answering, Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace; he buried his face in her neck and squeezed his eyes shut as her arms draped around his shoulders, savoring the weight of her warm body pressed against his and practically preening when her fingers rhythmically carded through his hair. “You can talk to me, Steve. Whatever it is you have to get off your chest, I’ll listen.” He could feel her press a kiss onto his hair. “And if you want to just sit here and enjoy the silence, then I’ll be more than happy to oblige you. I…I don’t want you to be afraid of letting me in; you deserve to feel safe enough to express yourself, sweetheart, no matter what.”

Steve didn’t know how long they sat there in silence before he rested his chin on her shoulder and stared unseeingly at her cozy living room as he finally found his voice. “The first thing that people told me after coming out of the ice was how lucky I was. They told me that surviving the crash and the ice was a blessing in disguise and that I’d have a shot at living a better life – and they were all so damn pleased with themselves as they were saying it, too, like they could claim that they did their one good deed for the day by convincing Captain America that he was better off in the 21st century – and none of ‘em could understand why I wasn’t as happy as the rest of the world was. Fury arranged for me to see a therapist, but I stopped going after the first appointment because I could see that it’d be more of the same ‘be grateful for what you’ve been given’ shit; there was no one I felt that I could talk to, and then after Loki and the Battle of New York happened…well, most everyone stopped trying to get to know me after that. The lack of any genuine companionship meant it was easier for me to hide and even numb my feelings, but when I found myself bonding with you and Nat and Sam, I…I started to become afraid of driving you all away.”

Steve pulled back far enough to meet (Y/N)’s eyes, only realizing he’d started to cry when her hands delicately cradled his face and her thumbs brushed his drying tear tracks away. “Were you afraid of how we’d react if you admitted that you still think about your old life?” There was no hint of judgement in her expression or hostility in her eyes, only patience and consideration, and Steve found himself silently appreciating his girlfriend’s kindhearted nature as he nodded. “Sweetheart, I want you to listen to me very carefully: depriving yourself of emotions is to deprive yourself of humanity. You’re human, Steve, and you’re allowed to feel however you feel. The people who love you love you for who you are and while I can’t speak for Sam or Nat, I want you to know that I’ll never, ever ask you to repress your emotions for my sake.”

“(Y/N)…” Steve softly started as one of his hands moved to caress her cheek. “No matter what, I’m always gonna have these memories of my life without you in my head. I have no way of knowing when or even if I’ll be settled into my new life. Doesn’t that…doesn’t that bother you?”

His girlfriend smiled patiently and shook her head before countering his question with one of her own. “If our roles were reversed and I was the one who’d come out of the ice instead, would you still love and accept me for who I am?”

“Of course I would, sunshine,” Steve replied with conviction.

“Then believe me when I say that I’ll always love and accept you, sweetheart, no matter what.” With tears beginning to well in her own eyes, (Y/N) leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “Please, please believe me.”

Steve’s heart nearly broke at the desperation that laced her plea and he hurriedly nodded. “I believe you, baby.” He gently coaxed her to look up and into his eyes; the unabashed love that he saw emanating from her tear-filled eyes melted something deep within him, encouraging him to rest his forehead against hers and brush the pad of his thumb along her flushed cheek. “I believe you.” They stayed there for an undetermined amount of time, with their arms wrapped around one another and their eyes closed while they relished the warmth of one another’s embrace and listened to the steady patter of rain outside. When Steve felt his heartbeat slow to its usual pace and his limbs stop their trembling, he trailed his hand down from his girlfriend’s cheek to rest against her chest, in the space directly over her heart; he wasn’t sure why, but the steady beating of her heart against his palm was soothing to him. “Thank you for helping me through all of that; if I’d gone through it alone, I’d still be spiraling right about now.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, about how often do you go through a panic attack?”

Opening his eyes, Steve considered her question for several moments as he took in the consideration that was written across her face. “A couple of times a month,” He replied with a wistful smile. “They started right after I came out of the ice, but they’ve been happening a little more frequently lately.”

(Y/N) offered him a sympathetic smile. “You know, I may not be a Certified Kick-Ass Counselor like Sam is but if I learned anything from working with him down at the VA, it’s that acknowledging your feelings can be a great first step towards healing.” He hummed thoughtfully and took in her words as her fingers smoothed down his rumpled hair. “When you start to feel another panic attack coming on, you can always give me a call and I’ll do whatever I can to help you through it, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not sure how it’ll live up to this…” Steve’s arms wound back around the historical-fiction novelist’s waist and pulled her in close with a content smile on his face. “But I promise you I will.” The familiar jingle of their local ten o’clock news sounded throughout the living room, causing him to give his girlfriend an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, we’re probably missing that screwball comedy marathon you wanted to watch, aren’t we?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just head down to Barnes & Noble one of these days and buy the Blu-Rays. Besides, I think that now’s the perfect time to introduce you to one of favorite comfort movies, but only if you’re up for it.”

Steve, touched by the consideration she was continuously showing for him and his mental health, swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and pressed a chaste kiss onto her lips, pulling back after a moment with a playful grin. “I’m up for anything, so long as it’s with my best girl…and her world-famous Milk Duds-and-popcorn concoction, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” (Y/N) readily agreed as she fought the smirk of amusement that was threatening to spread across her face; after extricating herself from his embrace, she hopped to her feet and offered him her hand, lacing her fingers around his once he stood and leading him into the kitchen as she continued. “We’ll make my not-so-secret recipe, pop open another bottle of pricey wine, and then we’ll be all set to watch 1978’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!”

“That’s the Beatles, right? So, does that mean the movie’s about the album?”

“…You’ll see.”

Needless to say, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was one of the strangest movies Steve had ever seen, but it was also one of the most entertaining movie-watching experiences he’d ever had; he chuckled at all of the corny yet earnest moments, watched in admiration as his girlfriend sang along to each and every one of the Beatles songs that played and even caught himself tearing up at the few emotional moments, all while indulging in some delicious popcorn and wine. Steve’s arms were holding (Y/N) close while they lounged across the couch and it was then, as the historical-fiction novelist in his arms sang her heart out to the film’s absurd yet catchy version of ‘Get Back,’ that he realized he felt more grounded in reality than he’d felt in a long, long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, Steve was returning to his room in the Avengers Facility after a long intelligence briefing with the rest of the team when he spotted a box sitting in front of his suite’s locked door. I don’t remember ordering anything online, he thought to himself as he cautiously picked up the box and brought it inside; their mail was regularly scanned and checked for explosives and biological weapons upon arrival and while Steve was fond of bidding on used vinyl records on Ebay, he hadn’t logged into his account since well before his mission in Argentina.

“Please don’t be another ‘Over The Hill’ shirt from Tony,” He sighed under his breath, setting the package down onto his bed and retrieving his pocket knife from his dresser drawer.

Steve carefully sliced through the packing tape and pushed open the cardboard flaps, his head tilting to the side when his eyes landed on a misshapen bundle of bubble wrap inside. His interest piqued, he unfurled the piece of bubble wrap and his brows rose in surprise when a large stuffed black and white cow tumbled out onto his comforter; a small card was attached to the sky-blue bow around the stuffed animal’s neck, and he wasted no time in detaching it and reading its brief contents.

Sweetheart,

Meet Buttercup the Cow! I did a little research and found out that weighted stuffed animals can help reduce feelings of anxiety and even ground someone who’s experiencing a panic attack; whenever you begin to feel yourself spiraling or getting lost in your memories, hold Buttercup and imagine that I’m right there with you, giving you the biggest hug imaginable.

With all my love,

Your Sunshine

Steve’s eyes prickled with unshed tears as he placed the heartfelt note down on his dresser, right beside the framed sketch he’d drawn of his beautiful girlfriend long before they began to date. He picked up the stuffed cow and tested its weight in his hands before hugging it tight to his chest; he could already feel his shoulders relaxing and when he nuzzled his cheek against the soft fabric, he realized that the clever historical-fiction novelist had sprayed some of her perfume – Design by Paul Sebastian – onto the stuffed cow. Breathing in the familiar notes of tuberose and jasmine, Steve briefly closed his eyes as he smiled to himself and thought about how much he loved his girlfriend and her kind heart.

A brilliant idea suddenly came to Steve’s mind and after setting Buttercup down on his pillow, he pulled a jacket on, tucked his wallet into his back pocket and scooped up his motorcycle’s keys, hurrying out of his suite and down the hall to the common room; Sam was in the middle of making a sandwich while Wanda and Vision sat together on the sofa debating their favorite sitcoms, the counselor looking up from his half-made meal and flashing him a welcoming smile. “Hey, man, we’re gonna do a little team bonding and watch Modern Family while we eat lunch; you want a sandwich or a wrap?”

“Thanks for the offer, Sam, but I’ve gotta go run an errand,” Steve replied with an apologetic look and twirled his keys around his finger. “Do you happen to know where the nearest Barnes & Noble is?”

“Um, I think there’s one up in Kingston…?”

“1200 Ulster Avenue.” They both looked over at their android teammate as he nonchalantly continued. “According to all available data, the store sees low to moderate business around this time, and the traffic appears to be light.”

An impressed Steve gave him an appreciative nod. “Thanks, Vis.”

Their exchange caught Wanda’s attention, causing her to look up from her box set of DVD’s and arch a curious brow. “You usually detest going out on errands. Is everything all right?”

“Yep, I’ve just got some Blu-Rays I need to buy.” He flashed his befuddled teammates a grin as he brusquely headed out of the common room. “I’ll see you guys later!”

As he jogged down the steps and crossed their private parking lot towards his motorcycle, the cell phone in his pocket chimed; he swung his leg over and sat as he pulled his phone out to check his text messages, chuckling to himself after reading his friend’s brief message.

Sam: If you show up at Booksmart’s doorstep with a box set of old Cary Grant flicks, she just might ask you to marry her on the spot 😂

Glancing up towards the floor-to-ceiling window in the common room and spotting an amused Sam watching him, Steve grinned and gave the counselor a teasing salute before revving up the engine and taking off. I can’t think of a better outcome than that, he thought to himself as he sped down the road, a truly happy smile spreading across her face at the mental image of someday marrying the love of his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And there we have it! I promise, the next one-shot will be a little happier and although I haven't decided which movie/show I wanna tackle next, I'm sure that little series will be happier too! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Stumblin’ In Book II: “Age of Ultron” Masterlist

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ ​​​​​@groovy-lady @ljej95 @innersublimefury @prettysbliss

[carragayer]

hi guys so

i finished nanowrimo and had like three fics that i combined into one almost 10k word thing of pure angst that includes nick carraway having multiple psychotic breaks and delusions in succession and also him being in love with gatsby. yeah i just wanted to. talk about it bc i did it for nanowrimo and it took all of my energy so i needed to share it. here it is

[k4zushi]

i lied i don’t have a valentine’s day extra for curtain call…. but i do however have a jay gatsby/nick carraway angst oneshot!!!!!

[vessels-for-good-intent]

Not A Vessel For Your Good Intent

Daisy speaks up that hot, hot August 28th. She refuses to let Jay ruin himself over her anymore, even if it means giving him up.

Title from The Crane Wives Tongues & Teeth

Relationships: Daisy Buchanan/Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan/Tom Buchanan, Nick Carraway & Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan & Jordan Baker

Characters: Daisy Buchanan, Jay Gatsby, Tom Buchanan, Nick Carraway, Jordan Baker, Pamela Buchanan

Tags: Angst, POV First Person, Daisy has a fucking backbone, Writing Fitzgerald’s Women Better, the hotel scene, jay gatsby knows about cars, Unrequited Love, Mixed Jay Gatsby, it’s vaguely alluded to, barely applicable here but it does come up later, Gay Nick Carraway, POV Daisy Buchanan, vaguely aro daisy?, i don’t really like daisy but she needs to be heard, tongues and teeth is about her & jay’s relationship actually, Hurt No Comfort, (yet), Jay Gatsby is a Car Guy, yes i finally have a use for my knowledge

It was the hottest day I could remember, and we were having a party. A party, in heat like this! But Jay and Nick both agreed to come even in the immense heat.

Tom’s woman had called, and I watched Jay with cautious eyes. His hair, already a dark copper, had turned darker with perspiration, eyes drawing up in anger as he heard the increasingly loud conversation. Nick only swiped at his neck, the skin damp with sweat, his eyes flicking nervously between us.

“Very well, then. I won’t sell you the car at all��. I’m under no obligations at to you at all… and as for your bothering me about it at lunch time, I won’t stand that at all!” Tom spoke.

“Holding down the receiver,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, he’s not,” Nick said, trying to reassure me. “It’s a bona-fide deal. I happen to know about it.”

Tom flung open the door, offering his hand out for Jay to shake. “Mr. Gatsby! I’m glad to see you, sir… Nick.” The dislike was well-hidden, but I could notice it.

Wanting to end the growing tension, I urged him to make us a cold drink. As he left the room, I flew to him, pulling his face down to mine. “You know I love you,” I murmured, kissing him.

“You forget there’s a lady present,” Jordan interjected. I stared balefully at her.

“You kiss Nick too,” I said. At this, Nick blushed slightly.

“What a low, vulgar girl!” she said.

“I don’t care!” I cried, instinctively moving to clog the fireplace. Jordan grabbed my arm.

“It’s too hot for that, Daisy,” she said, leading me back to the couch. My daughter entered the room.

“Hello Pammy,” I said kindly. I always felt guilty for leaving her with a nurse, but it was demanded of high society ladies. The nurse let her go, and she ran to clutch at my dress.

“Pammy,” I murmured to her.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked.

“He’s getting drinks for cousin Nick and Mr. Gatsby. Say how-de-do, Pammy.”

“Hello,” Pammy said, soft.

She peaked out from behind my skirts, and Jay looked surprised. Had he not known I had a daughter?

Jay and Nick both knelt slightly, reaching to take her hand in turn. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Buchanan,” his voice hiding the shock on his face.

“I have business to get to with Nick and Mr. Gatsby, Pammy, alright? I’ll see you tonight. I love you, sweet thing,” I say, and she reluctantly turns back to her nurse. Tom enters after she leaves, carrying four gin rickeys chock-full of ice.

“They certainly look cool,” Jay says, his fingers wiping away the condensate from his glass. We grab our drinks then, taking long swallows of the cool liquid.

“I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year,” said Tom, trying to make conversation. “It seems that the earth’s going to fall into the sun—or wait a minute—it’s the opposite—the sun’s getting colder every year.” He paused for a minute, then continued, “Come outside,” he said, gesturing towards Jay. “I’d like you to have a look at this place.”

Nick and Jay followed him out to the veranda, and Jordan and I joined them. Jay pointed to his house. “I’m right across from you.”

“So you are,” he agreed.

We had luncheon in the dining room, curtains closed against the heat, though it only served to make the room hotter, I thought. The room was tense, and we drank and ate in nervous gaiety.

I had a horrid thought. “What’ll we do with ourselves this afternoon?” I cried, “and the day after that, and the next thirty years?”

“Don’t be morbid,” Jordan chastised me. “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

“It’s so hot,” I groaned, close to crying, “and everything is getting confused. Let’s all go to town!” They didn’t pay attention then, Jay wrapped up in a conversation with Tom about his conversion of our garage into a horse stable.

“Who wants to go to town?” I asked. Jay’s eyes flicked towards me, and even in his perspired state, he looked like a cool breath of air. “You look so cool,” I spoke, meeting his eyes for a single second, the thought once more flashing through my brain.

Jay was going to ruin himself in pursuit of me, and I didn’t care. He had never been meant to be forever for me, even after Tom and I’s unhappy marriage.

“Alright,” Tom broke in. “We can go to town.” I could tell he had seen something in the flick of my eyes to Jay, but didn’t know what.

“Are we just going to go?” I asked. “Just like that? Aren’t we going to let anyone smoke a cigarette?”

“Everybody smoked all through lunch,” Tom objected.

“Oh, have it your own way,” I said. “Come on, Jordan,” I said, leading her upstairs.

“What’s going on, Daisy?” she asked.

“He’s ruining himself in pursuit of me, and I don’t even love him!” I cried. “He’ll break if I leave him, and yet it’s the only way to keep him alive.”

“Tom,” she said. One short syllable that expressed everything I had missed. “He saw that you appeared to love him. That’s why he gave in so quickly.”

“I have to give him up, Jordan. I’m ruining him, and he chose that. He doesn’t realize it, but he won’t be anything without me. He’s based his entire life around me—I’m what makes him Jay Gatsby. He built his personality around me.” If only she knew how true that statement was.

She turned away. “You’d better see if Tom wants to take something to drink,” not acknowledging anything I just said. I nod, promising myself I’ll think over it on the way to town.

Calling out the window, I shout, “Shall we take anything to drink?”

Tom’s mouth moves, and he heads inside, Nick and Jay standing close together. We head downstairs, following Tom out.

“Shall we all go in my car?” Jay suggested, feeling the seat. “I should have left the car in the shade.”

“Is it standard shift?” Tom demanded.

“Yes.”

“Well, you take my coupé and let me drive your car to town,” he said. Jay’s face flashed with distaste.

“I don’t think there’s much gas,” he said.

“Plenty of gas. And if it runs out, we can stop at a drug store. You can buy anything a drugstore nowadays,” he said, and my heart sank. He knew. Or well, he thought he knew. My revelation had hit me in the face, and the shock showed on my countenance.

“Come on, Daisy,” said Tom, pressing his hand into the small of my back, his hand presenting Jay’s car. “I’ll take you in the circus wagon.”

I moved from where his hand laid. “Take Nick and Jordan. We’ll follow you in the coupé,” I said. Tom growled but consented, and Nick and Jordan followed him into the yellow car.

We clambered into the blue coupé, the familiar car seeming almost foreign with Jay in the driver’s seat. I watched Tom, Nick, and Jordan do the same, and Tom sped off, testing out each gear, Jay muttering over the waste of gas.

“He’s going to buy gas for you, you know,” I said.

“I guess,” he said, leaning over and kissing me once on the lips. I forced myself not to recoil, thoughts of his ruin via his pursuit of me still playing in my mind.

“We should go,” I said, and he laughed as he turned the car on. The car rumbled quietly as oil began pumping through the engine, and then quieted again.

“I wait until the engine quiets down after I start it,” he said, “and that’s because it helps the car last longer, if you can get the car to lubricate itself instead just taking off dry.” His words had no meaning to me, but I nodded.

“I don’t think Tom knew that,” I said. He had never waited the thirty seconds after starting the car, he just threw the car into drive and went.

“That would explain why he wants to sell this car, it’s a pile of crap now. How long have you had it?” he asked, pressing his foot to the gas and throwing the car towards the city.

“I think it was a wedding present from Tom’s parents,” I said, and he squirmed uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.

“I wish—well, you know what I wish, Daisy. You’ll tell Tom you don’t love him soon, right?”

“I—I don’t know, Jay.” The I’m going to ruin your life if we continue this pressed at my lips, but I held it back. I expected him to protest, but he apparently realized it was the best he would get.

We rode in tense silence for a few minutes before entering the ash heaps, seeing Tom making harsh gestures at the small man, who I guessed was Wilson. It was, after all, Wilson’s Garage.

“What’s he all mad about?” Jay asked.

“I’ve no clue,” I said. “Perhaps his mistress.”

His face hardened as we slowed to wait for them. “I don’t like how he treats you, Daisy. Like a play toy, abandoning you when he gets bored.”

As the coupé advanced towards Tom and the man I assumed to be Wilson, we heard the maybe-Wilson man say, “I need the money. We’re moving West soon. My wife has wanted to go west for 10 years, you know.”

“Mr. Buchanan!” Jay called.

“Gatsby,” he said. “Go on, you two. We’ll follow.”

We sped off to the highway, Jay testing each gear and the speed of the car. Tom soon followed, accelerating faster than Jay could go. Jay tried keeping up, but the engine started making angry noises, so he slowed down. Thankfully, by then Tom had glanced behind him, slowing. He glanced back every few seconds, as if afraid that he would lose me forever is he didn’t check where I was every few seconds.

When we arrived, Nick looked almost ready to fall asleep. The heat had tired us all, especially in the cars that were 20 degrees warmer than the actual temperature. I suggested we hire five bathrooms to take cold baths, but it was shot down in favor of ‘a place to have a mint julep.’ I almost felt bad for the clerk at the front desk with all of us talking over each other.

The room was stifling hot, and all five of us being there likely did not help. We opened the windows, which only blew slightly cooler air into the room. It was breathtakingly humid, and I went to fix my hair. Jordan whispered it was a swell suite, and we laughed.

“Open another window,” I said.

“There aren’t anymore,” Nick said.

“Well, we’d better telephone for an axe.”

“The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” Tom said, showing that he too was affected by the heat. “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.” He unrolled the bottle of whiskey and put it on the table.

“Let her alone, old sport,” Jay said. “You’re the one who wanted to come to town.” In a sentence, Jay had caused Nick to stutter, likely not wanting to point out that I had first suggested it. But in the end, no one mentioned it, because the telephone book slipped from its nail and crashed to the floor.

“I’ll pick it up,” Nick offered.

“I’ve got it,” Jay said, examining the string that held it to the nail. He tossed it on a chair. “String’s broken.”

“That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” Tom remarked, and we all looked at him strangely.

“What is?” Jay asked.

“All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Now see here, Tom,” I said, turning from the mirror. “If you’re going to make personal remarks I won’t stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.”

As Tom picked up the receiver, we heard the first pompous chords of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from the ballroom below us.

“Imagine marrying anyone in this heat!” Jordan cried.

“Still—I was married in the middle of June. Louisville, in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it who fainted, Tom?” I asked.

“Biloxi,” he answered.

“A man named Biloxi. ‘Blocks’ Biloxi, and he made boxes—that’s a fact—and he was from Biloxi, Tennessee,” I said.

“They carried him into my house,” added Jordan, “because we lived just two doors from the church. And he stayed three weeks, until Daddy told him he had to leave. The day after he left Daddy died.” She paused. “There wasn’t any connection.”

“I used to know a Bill Biloxi from Memphis,” Nick stated.

“That was his cousin. I knew his whole family history before he left. He gave me an aluminum putter I still use today.”

The march had ended, and cheers floated through the open window. The dancing began in a burst of jazz. “We’re getting old,” I said. “If we were young we’d rise and dance.”

“Remember Biloxi,” Jordan warned. “Where’d you know him, Tom?”

“Biloxi?” he asked, thinking. “I didn’t know him. He was a friend of Daisy’s.”

“He was not. I’d never seen him before. He came down in the private car, remember?”

“Well, he said he knew you. He said he was raised in Louisville. Asa Bird brought him around at the last minute and asked if we had room for him,” Jordan said, smiling. “He was probably bumming his way home. He told me he was president of your class at Yale.

Tom and Nick looked at each other. “Biloxi?” Nick asked.

“First place, we didn’t have any president—“ Tom said, eying Jay’s foot, which was tapping restlessly.

“By the way, Mr. Gatsby, I understand you’re an Oxford man.”

“Not exactly,” Jay replied.

“Oh, yes, I understand you went to Oxford.”

“Yes—I went there,” Jay paused. Jordan, Nick, and I start awkwardly, looking between the two men.

Tom spoke again, his voice disbelieving. “You must have gone there about the time Biloxi went to New Haven.”

A waiter knocked on the door, and we all jumped. “Come in!” I called. The waiter did so, leaving the block of ice and mint leaves on the table.

“Thank you,” the man muttered, closing the door.

“I told you I went there—to Oxford,” said Jay.

“I heard you, but I’d like to know when,” demanded Tom.

“It was in nineteen-nineteen. I only stayed five months. That’s why I can’t really call myself an Oxford man.” He paused, and Tom glanced at us to see if we mirrored his disbelief. We didn’t, and Jay continued, “It was an opportunity they gave some to some of the officers after the armistice. We could go to any of the universities in England or France.”

Nick’s hand jerked, as though he wanted to reassure Jay with a hand on his shoulder. Hoping to diffuse the tensions, I spoke, “Open the whiskey, Tom. I’ll make you a mint julep. Then you won’t seem so stupid to yourself… Look at the mint!”

“Wait a minute,” demanded Tom. “I want to ask Mr. Gatsby one more question.”

“Go ahead,” said Jay, smiling.

“What kind of a row are you trying to cause in my house anyhow?”

“He isn’t causing a row,” I interjected. “You’re causing a row, Tom, please have a little self-control.”

“Self-control!” Tom roared. “I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife! Well, if that’s the idea you can count me out… Nowadays people begin by sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.”

“We’re all white here,” muttered Jordan, and I saw Jay’s cheeks flush.

“I know I’m not very popular,” Tom said. I don’t give give big parties. I suppose you’ve got to make your house into a pigsty in order to have any friends—in the modern world.”

Nick looked annoyed at Tom’s words, and I think everyone felt the same. It was too hot to not be annoyed.

“I’ve got something to tell you, old sport—“ Jay began. I guessed at his intentions, and raised my hand to silence him.

“Not now, Jay,” I said. “Let’s all go home anyways, it’s hotter than it was back home.”

“That’s a good idea,” Nick said. “Come on, Tom. Nobody wants a drink.”

“I want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me,” Tom said, and my heart sank. I would have to tell Jay that I didn’t love him, that he would come to ruin if this continued, that his pursuit of me was stripping him of all it meant to be Jay Gatsby.

“Your wife doesn’t love you,” said Jay. “She’s never loved you. She loves me,” he said. I stood up, meaning to object to his claim, but Jay waved me back down.

“Listen to me, Jay!” I said, the exact same time that Tom said something.

“You must be crazy!” Tom cried.

Jay sprang to his feet then. “She never loved you, do you hear?” and well, that was true. I had married Tom out of obligation to my parents, not out of love.

Continuing, Jay said, “She only married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved anyone except me!” His voice was desperate, waiting for me to confirm his words.

Nick and Jordan stood, pleading their excuses, but Tom and Jay both insisted they stay. The two of them wanted all of us to see who would win the fight over me.

At that point, I stood up. Tom blinked at me.

“Daisy, what are you doing?” Jay asked.

“Telling the truth of the matter, as I see it,” I said. They waited for me to go on.

I took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Jordan and Nick watched me curiously. I addressed Tom first.

“Jay is right. Not about all of it, but parts of it. I don’t love you, but I don’t love him. I married you because my parents—because I felt I owed that much to my parents—they deserved to see me married. I’m sorry, Tom.” Jordan nodded at me. She had found me after I had gotten drunk the night before our wedding. I watched Tom’s face for a reaction. His face hardened, but he nodded stiffly.

“And Jay,” I said, pausing to keep my sobs in my throat. I didn’t want to break him, but he needed to hear this.

“Jay, if you keep pursuing me, you will ruin yourself. You’re already stripping yourself of everything that makes you Jay Gatsby.” Or James Gatz, I thought. “You are ruining yourself in pursuit of a woman who does not love you. I know this hurts you to hear, but I can’t let you choose to ruin yourself. Your whole personality is modeled after what you think I am. I’m not the same girl you knew in Louisville, Jay.” His head jerked up at his name, though his face was shiny with sweat and tears. He had curled into himself upon the couch.

“Daisy—“ he gasped out. I stood up.

“I’m leaving,” Tom said. “Daisy, Jordan, Nick?” he asked. Though his face was stricken, he was much more composed than Jay.

“I’m staying. Leave Gatsby’s car, please,” Nick said. “I’ll get him home.”

“Of course, Nick.”

“I’ll go home,” I said. “I really am sorry, Tom.”

“It’s alright, Daisy. We’ll talk when we’re back at home. Jordan?” he asked.

“I’ll come with you two,” she agreed.

“Goodbye,” Nick said politely, though his voice was cold in a strong contrast to the heat.

The three of us walked from the room, watching Nick slowly approach Jay.

[cubeispog]

Gives this to you and runs

"Do you ever wonder who we were in a past life?" (1423 words) by Cubeispog Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Great Gatsby (2013), The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (1949) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby Characters: Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan Additional Tags: Angst, Smut, Gay Sex, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Newsies References, (Try and find it), The Green Light (The Great Gatsby), Whos the green light? you decied, Gay Nick Carraway, Nick Carraway Loves Jay Gatsby, POV Nick Carraway, Bottom Nick Carraway Series: Part 1 of Who we were to eachother

[sewer-seance]

can u provide some Angsty Natsby drawings literally just any subject just Destroy Me

“How much do you miss him?”

“More than I should”

(Click for better resolution)

[artsyfartsypaige]

“Ricorderai”

Who doesn’t love a angsty Gatsby animatic??? I sure do

[ask-the-great-gatsby]

Gatsby Screencap Songquotes

[in-love-with-morgana-pendragon]

It’s time for The Greater Gatsby (orphan_account)

The Great Gatsby's copyright expires January 1, 2021 and I for one am quite looking forward to the inevitable publication of Nick/Gatsby fanfiction.

[lol-jackles]

I understand liking Jensen better because Dean delivered moments (angry, sad, funny or angst) almost every episode while Sam's moments required built ups most of the time.

Saying that, Dean emotional scenes almost blended together at the end because they were so common (the single one tear) while Sam's were always special.

Yup. While watching an episode I am more drawn to Dean because he's more fun or interesting to watch. The next day I remember the episode through Sam's actions and interactions. Some readers shared with me that they were surprised that they seem to “forget” Dean when they recall specific storylines, I said that’s supposed to happen with the support-protagonist.  Do any of you remember what John Watson did in the classic Sherlock Holmes?  Or what impact Nick Carraway had in The Great Gatsby?   No, because they all disappeared into the lead-protagonist’s story. People don't remember the 4th Pirates of the Caribbean Jack Sparrow-centric movie because there was no Will Turner, the protagonist of the previous 3 movies. The only thing they vaguely remember was there were mermaids. The studio tried to save the franchise by bringing Will Turner's son into the 5th movie.

This is why every story needs a protagonist, they are the personification of a character whose actions are important in mobilizing the story and stands out in readers’ or audiences’ minds.  Dean needs Sam and Jack Sparrow needs Will Turner in order for the audience to even remember them because they’re part of the protagonist’s story.  It’s why I keep saying Supernatural is Sam’s story, his Hero’s Journey.  

[fanfic-corner]

Natsby

There aren’t many of these, I’m afraid, but I’ve been studying The Great Gatsby for my english class (who hasn’t) and as soon as we got into the conversation about Nick’s sexuality... let me just tell you right now, that man was NOT straight. Anyway, here’s a couple of wonderful fics I read where Nick is categorically not straight!

Boats Against the Current by patentpending on AO3. (7,961 words).

Tags: Time Loop, Alternate Ending, Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Internalized Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character(s) of Color, Jay Gatsby Lives, Canon Temporary Character Death.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Cicadas are hissing outside of his window. Nick wakes before dawn. It's the day Gatsby is shot. Cicadas are hissing outside of his window. Nick wakes before dawn. It's the same day.

Notes: This was amazing - I love time loop stories, and this was beautifully done!

litany in which everything is crossed out by lyricsandhearts on AO3. (1,395 words).

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place — well then, game over.

Notes: This was heartbreaking, but some of the best writing I have ever read.

Unsent Letters from a Heart-Broken Bondsperson by imbeccable on AO3. (2,183 words).

Tags: Canonical Character Death, Heartache, Yearning, Love Letters, Loneliness, POV First Person, Internalized Homophobia.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: A series of unsent letters dictating the true feelings of one Nick Carraway, with a single unwitting response from the one who owned his heart.

Notes: These were so gorgeous, especially the last one!

Behind Us, Reflected by irisbleufic on AO3. (4,140 words).

Tags: Fix-It, Alternate Ending, Historical Accuracy, Ambiguous Ending, Happy Ending, Bootlegging, Illegal Activities, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, PTSD, Neurodiversity, Disability.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Other echoes inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?

Notes: This was so sweet and I can totally imagine Nick and Gatsby being literal partners in crime.

I hope enjoyed these! Thank you to everyone who recommended some over on my side blog, @linaraiscorner. 

[our-fic-archive]

Chapters: 5/12 Fandom: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013), The Great Gatsby (1974) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan/Jay Gatsby, Daisy Buchanan/Tom Buchanan, Tom Buchanan/Myrtle Wilson, Jordan Baker & Nick Carraway, Jordan Baker/Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 1920s, Wealth, Self-Worth Issues, Unrequited Love, Loneliness, Angst and Romance, Falling In Love, Gatsby isn't used to someone actually giving a damn about him, Slow Burn, Period Typical Attitudes, Domestic, and the fact that he doesn't need to buy Nick's love throws him for a loop too, My English teacher straight up admitted that these two should've ended up together Summary:

"I can buy you the whole damn city, old sport; anything you can possibly dream of," Gatsby whispers feverishly into Nick's ear, pressing a kiss to the other man's temple. "The New Amsterdam Theatre, Central Park Zoo, even....hell, even Lady Liberty, baby."

Nick laughs and shakes his head, the liquor still warm in his throat and causing the world around him to spin too fast. If it weren't for Gatsby's arms around his waist, he'd surely be laying in a heap on the ground.

"You don't need to buy me anything, Jay," he insists softly, feeling as if he's said such a thing too many times to count now.

"But I could. I could buy-"

Nick shakes his head again, turning around in Gatsby's arms and silencing him with a a lopsided smile and a sloppy kiss.

"You could, yes, but you don't have to. In fact...in fact you could sell this grand palace of yours, Jay, and....and lose all of your damned money in the stock market, and I'd still want you."

Gatsby doesn't respond, looking torn between disbelief and tears.