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halothenthehorns · 7 months

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Chapter 20: THE COUNCIL GETS CLOVEN

Nico read the new chapter title with a faint smile. It was a silly descriptor, as these usually were, for a serious topic about a whole concept, a whole way of life for the satyrs up to this point being disbanded.

"Sounds like a kick-ass time," Alex laughed in delight.

A lot of things had changed about camp that day, and a not so small part of Nico regretted not staying. Working out how to keep Percy alive in the coming war with him instead of for him while the other kids adjusted to all this.

The larger, more pessimistic part of him was still more convinced it wouldn't work out. That the death kid wouldn't be allowed in anybody's cabin after what had just happened.

He'd probably have been kept with the other prisoners. Surely not every enemy had been defeated, though what Chiron would have done with them he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Taking away their dessert privilege or putting them in timeout didn't seem the appropriate response here...the best outcome had probably been offering abdication of Luke to stay or escorting them back out of Camp on the bus to...?

How many unclaimed children had died over the course of this battle? How many had the gods even noticed, let alone cared of both sides? He didn't agree with Luke's methods, but he'd have liked to have ever met him in moments like this. Luke wasn't around to care anymore, but whose to say he even would have been more kind to the returning, losing forces than Kronos would be.

Nico had been sitting around to long chewing on his thoughts, as if he could change the past no matter the outcome. He even knew what he was really arguing with himself about too, as Will's arm stayed around his shoulders now and his hand rested in place on his arm. This camp was Will's home, and while Nico had a cabin there it still never felt like someplace he could stay.

But there was a soft throat clearing, and this was a question he could still avoid for a time longer as he tried what he hadn't in the past and kept moving forward rather than sitting around in his past.

There had been no jokes, no snide comments while he'd collected himself. Nico's hesitance, Will's drawn penance, and Percy's tightly controlled anger made an obvious display of how this was going to go before it even started, which was of some comfort to Nico it wasn't entirely his fault for once.

There were too many good-byes.

That night was the first time I actually saw camp burial shrouds used on bodies, and it was not something I wanted to see again.

Will's hand was already starting to shake slightly. Nico didn't want to ask how many times he had seen it before, how many of those deaths were accidental and how many were monsters. Not because he could have asked the ghosts themselves at camp if they so lingered, but because if Will wanted him to know he'd volunteer it. He had yet been the kind of person to hide a single thing.

Among the dead, Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin had been downed by a giant's club. He was wrapped in a golden shroud without any decoration.

Will didn't really think anybody would want to hear his war stories, his graphic memories, his gruesome details added into this. They dealt with the worst of their life every day hearing through Percy's memory, it hadn't really crossed his mind before now anybody would even ask.

And yet Thalia turned to him, her eyes vivid with worry as she asked, "do you need a minute?"

"No," Will promised calmly. "I've had time since then to adjust."

There must have been something in his voice though. A longing, a weighted cadence that meant it really was still going to get worse.

"You guys probably don't want to hear this," he tried to caution anyways when the silence lingered and he hadn't meant it to.

"Lee would probably want us to," Percy frowned. He hadn't known him that well. This war had long since been in progress before he showed up whether he'd lived to see this day or not. A part of him still felt responsible for every shroud that day, every person he'd known for years and still only knew where they slept and nothing more.

There was a kind of relief to Will's voice, how he didn't get the chance enough to talk about his brothers he hadn't known long enough. "I'd been tending to a boy, with Katie, we were trying to see if his leg needed to be amputated or we should try some nectar when I heard Lee, he was shouting at us to move," Will's eyes were far away.

This obviously was not the first time he'd told this story. To his own siblings later. To Chiron. To any curious new siblings of his who wondered about past campers. "I looked up and there was a, a sword, sticking out of his gut, cut right through his armor like nothing...He fell, and a Dracanea just slithered right over him towards us. I jumped up, ran towards him, but then Clarisse and one of her brothers tackled me to the ground and got rid of them. She didn't even have a weapon she just...it was really unbelivable unless you were there, but it took, time. He was, gone, by the time I," his blood soaked hands clenched over nothing now.

Some part of him had hated her for saving his life that day for far to long. He'd said some truly loathsome things to her before going off to the Battle of Manhattan he'd soon regretted. "We cried. Then we, we talked, and sang, and laughed a little more until we cried again."

Nico moved without thinking, reaching up his hand to Will's where it rested on his shoulder and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Just the tips, just enough slight pressure he'd feel it but could easily pull away.

Will smiled at him like it was the kindest thing in the world he could have done. The exhaustion in his eyes was vivid, like he could have rested his head right there on Nico's shoulder and passed out without a second thought, but his smile was still as bright as ever.

"He loved this um, this weird green alien, god I can't believe I forgot his name! From those Bugs Bunny cartoons, he always swore he was going to get a tattoo of him-"

"Marvin the Martin?" Nico asked.

"That was it!"

Will looked deliriously surprised Nico knew such a thing. Causing him to blush and needlessly explain, "I, um, vaguely remember reading old comics. Bugs Bunny went on the first rocket to the moon," he still said it with a bit of awe in his voice like that was as strange a concept as a talking rabbit would still be to them.

"The greatest cartoons alive in my humble opinion, we'd steal the TV and watch them all the time, everybody in our cabin has a favorite. H-had." Will was nodding along and looked seconds away from sharing every individual detail of those days. The peanut butter snacks, yelling at whoever decided to do chores and vacuum or clean right in front of the TV and practicing their accuracy, who could beat up whose character often ending up in wrestling matches. Memories that suddenly made him feel old, as long as it had been since any of that happened.

Nico would have loved to sit and hear of nothing more, but Will wasn't the only one who had losses that day. Percy's deeply troubled expression about all those campers' funerals he'd attended, the ones that wouldn't miraculously show up at like he had his own, still needed to be heard.

The son of Dionysus who'd gone down fighting an enemy half-blood was wrapped in a deep purple shroud embroidered with grapevines. His name was Castor. I was ashamed that I'd seen him around camp for three years and never even bothered to learn his name. He'd been seventeen years old.

"That's not your fault-"

Percy was already shaking his head, giving a sad, but grateful smile to Thalia. "Yeah, I know. I don't go around thinking everything needs a fault." He wasn't going to be like Zeus and decide someone should be blamed and punished for this...even if the main man himself and several others came to mind who really should be.

It had just felt, bad.

His twin brother, Pollux, tried to say a few words, but he choked up and just took the torch.

Castor and Pollux had never been the most popular kids at camp, Will alone could reflect. While nobody outright hated them, they were to quiet and laid back for any real malice, quite a few kids resented them for their dad being a miserable git. Half the time they sat out of capture the flag, most often they were seen sneaking into the kitchens or throwing bread at the harpies.

Now that there was only one son of Dionysus, everybody knew Pollux. There had been a distinct, suspicious smell of fermented strawberries coming from an old shed he'd sneak off to until his dad had made it vanish. It hadn't solved all of his problems. Will had since seen him befriending every satyr there, he could tell you five generations back of all of them better than anyone.

The horrible prospects of going from an unknown kid most didn't think twice of to being one of the most well-known because you were the last one standing was a nightmare Will could barely wrap his head around.

He lit the funeral pyre in the middle of the amphitheater, and within seconds the row of shrouds was engulfed in fire, sending smoke and sparks up to the stars.

Nobody had mentioned if Dinoysus had been in attendance, and Jason sat frowning if he wanted to know. The god of wine sat in a unique position among his brethren in that he was forced to be there, had no excuses of why he wouldn't have been, but that didn't change the fact that he was a god. That his 'excuse' if one would call it that was in his nature of being able to have a dozen more kids when he could leave same as the others. This judging sense of mortality he often saw the others giving the gods for not acting like them was the opposite of what a god was...so whether the boys father had been there for not would give him a splitting headache and he didn't ask.

We spent the next day treating the wounded, which was almost everybody.

"Some were better patients than others I'm sure," Will grumbled with a side-eyed look at Nico. Admittedly he'd been busy up to his hair, but he didn't once recall seeing Nico in there, let alone anyone mentioning the odd death kid might need some special attention for having passed out for a chunk of the battle!

Nico looked over so innocently, even giving a charming smile like he had no clue why Will was giving him a withering glare. Will just narrowed his eyes further, he knew Nico knew what he was thinking. Yet Nico did not plan on sharing the fact he'd simply eaten enough to get by and slept in trees, his only spare thought being ahead and the occasional relief no dryad ever popped out to yell at him until he could find a convenient moment to vanish again. Will never seemed to like how hard life had been on him, and pointing out he wouldn't have been welcomed in there never seemed to do any good.

The satyrs and dryads worked to repair the damage to the woods.

"I bet that floating apple trick really came in handy when they had to move whole trees with roots out to be replanted," Magnus shivered at the idea of such loss and hurt in that earth.

"Grover's Hilary Duff song was probably played nonstop and everyone cheered," Alex grinned. "Now if only he'd play a good rainmaking song to mix it up."

"And cause national flooding. I think the beavers would revolt," Percy chuckled.

At noon, the Council of Cloven Elders held an emergency meeting in their sacred grove. The three senior satyrs were there, along with Chiron, who was in wheelchair form. His broken horse leg was still mending, so he would be confined to the chair for a few months, until the leg was strong enough to take his weight. The grove was filled with satyrs and dryads and naiads up from the water—hundreds of them, anxious to hear what would happen.

Juniper, Annabeth, and I stood by Grover's side.

"Where was Tyson?" Jason asked in surprise, with the confidence of knowing one who would have been there if not for some grievous accident.

"He scared them to much, Annabeth and I had to lie and convince him to stay back and help the Camp with repairs because he intimated those stupid old goats," Percy sighed.

Silenus wanted to exile Grover immediately, but Chiron persuaded him to at least hear evidence first, so we told everyone what had happened in the crystal cavern, and what Pan had said. Then several eyewitnesses from the battle described the weird sound Grover had made, which drove the Titan's army back underground.

"It was panic," insisted Juniper. "Grover summoned the power of the wild god."

"Panic?" I asked.

"Aren't pain and panic Hades's thing?" Magnus asked with full knowledge he was probably talking out of his ass, only remembering vague details from old cartoons.

"The gods domains often overlap with each other," Nico shrugged. "Like Athena being the goddess of battle strategies but Ares getting the whole dominion. Animals are known for panicking, it's like their thing right? Fight or flight when confronted with something new. It occurs a lot in humans death too, hence why it can be associated with him, though his name is Phobos and he's actually a child of Ares."

As was usual with these explanations, Magnus didn't seem to grasp any of this much better. He just nodded meekly and hoped this kept going before he had to think of this much longer.

"Percy," Chiron explained,

"Why you got to say it like that?" Percy sighed, not really offended, but feeling a little grain of annoyance all the same. "I can't be the only person there who had no clue what Grover just did."

"You're just special like that Perce," Thalia said, even ruffling up his hair, a rather dangerous thing to do, Alex grinned in admiration, when Percy scowled at her and could have taken her hand off without even drawing his sword down here. He could have just wielded the water like an extension of himself and done it without a thought. He just wouldn't.

"during the first war of the gods and the Titans, Lord Pan let forth a horrible cry that scared away the enemy armies. It is—it was his greatest power—a massive wave of fear that helped the gods win the day. The word panic is named after Pan, you see. And Grover used that power, calling it forth from within himself."

"Which came first?" Jason was more than happy not to let this go as he grinned in surprise. "Phobos or Pan? Did Ares name one of his kids after a nature god? Because if so, he got a little more interesting just now."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Percy rolled his eyes.

"We weren't exactly there to confirm, but it is pretty funny either way," Thalia snickered in agreement.

"Preposterous!" Silenus bellowed. "Sacrilege! Perhaps the wild god favored us with a blessing. Or perhaps Grover's music was so awful it scared the enemy away!"

"That wasn't it, sir," Grover said. He sounded a lot calmer than I would have if I'd been insulted like that. "He let his spirit pass into all of us. We must act. Each of us must work to renew the wild, to protect what's left of it. We must spread the word. Pan is dead. There is no one but us."

"After two thousand years of searching, this is what you would have us believe?" Silenus cried. "Never! We must continue the search! Exile the traitor!"

A distastefully hateful feeling tugged tight in Magnus's stomach at hearing that. He'd never been religious, had a quite low opinion of most random people from living on the streets, and this statement put so blatantly pretty well summed up why. Those in power always wanted somebody else to come around and clean up their mess.

And yet, a part of him envied their blind faith. To believe wholeheartedly that there was someone out there who cared about them and could think of to not feel alone. He didn't share that feeling in the slightest, but some days he wished he did.

Some of the older satyrs muttered assent.

"A vote!" Silenus demanded. "Who would believe this ridiculous young satyr, anyway?"

"I would," said a familiar voice.

Everyone turned. Striding into the grove was Dionysus.

"Nico said what?" Percy yelped, mock cleaning out his ears to make sure.

"You were there," Thalia frowned at him.

"Yeah, and I didn't quite believe my eyes either," Percy's frown only continued.

He wore a formal black suit, so I almost didn't recognize him, a deep purple tie and violet dress shirt, his curly dark hair carefully combed. His eyes were bloodshot as usual, and his pudgy face was flushed, but he looked like he was suffering from grief more than wine-withdrawal.

Will had been in attendance of this. He'd had to get out of his cabin and get some air while they were packing up Lee's things to put in the attic. Seeing Mr. D show up like that had been enough of a shock to his system that going back to that empty bunk had almost, almost, been less of a hurt and more of a dull ache on his brain on how everything changes.

The satyrs all stood respectfully and bowed as he approached. Dionysus waved his hand, and a new chair grew out of the ground next to Silenus's—a throne made of grapevines.

Dionysus sat down and crossed his legs. He snapped his fingers and a satyr hurried forward with a plate of cheese and crackers and a Diet Coke.

The god of wine looked around at the assembled crowd. "Miss me?"

"Would he know if I lied?" Percy raised a brow, but it had a tinge of sadness more than mocking for once.

"I don't get the feeling he would, but you'd be the person I trust most to test that theory," Alex told him with pride.

Jason chuckled at the pair just like everybody, but he shook his head at his fleeting thought as he revised his headache. So they hadn't waited until Bacchus/ Dionysus had come back, to give him the unique qualm of whether to attend his child's pyre. He would have liked to have been a fly on the wall of the Big House when he and Chiron discussed this later though, even if he was blasted to bits for it.

The satyrs fell over themselves nodding and bowing. "Oh, yes, very much, sire!"

"Well, I did not miss this place!" Dionysus snapped. "I bear bad news, my friends. Evil news. The minor gods are changing sides. Morpheus has gone over to the enemy. Hecate, Janus, and Nemesis, as well. Zeus knows how many more."

The fact that Dionysus not only knew about Janus, but also conferred his whereabouts and loyalties wasn't much of a blip on them nowadays after their mostly unspoken company of the past few days.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Strike that," Dionysus said. "Even Zeus doesn't know.

Even while living the outcome of that war, Thalia still squirmed with a bit of distress of this along with everyone else. It truly had felt back then like everything was against them when Artemis had reported much similar dissatisfying news. If things hadn't gone exactly the way they had, if Percy hadn't chosen himself to be the Prophecy child, it most certainly would have all had a very different ending.

Now, I want to hear Grover's story. Again, from the top."

"But, my lord," Silenus protested. "It's just nonsense!"

"I cannot believe such a spineless creature said that to this god," Alex said with begrudging admiration.

"He's got a lot of guts, remember," Magnus snorted.

Dionysus's eyes flared with purple fire. "I have just learned that my son Castor is dead, Silenus.

Nico's voice was so gentle as he read that. A lot of things that happened in Percy's life were absurd and could be played off for laughs even while the worst was happening. This wasn't even close to one of those times.

I am not in a good mood. You would do well to humor me."

Silenus gulped, and waved at Grover to start again.

When Grover was done, Mr. D nodded. "It sounds like just the sort of thing Pan would do. Grover is right. The search is tiresome. You must start thinking for yourselves." He turned to a satyr. "Bring me some peeled grapes, right away!"

"Yes, sire!" The satyr scampered off.

"About how to sum up these Greek guys," Jason muttered. They seemed a lot more, spirited, than his impression of them kept telling him they should be. And a lot more volatile to boot.

"We must exile the traitor!" Silenus insisted.

"I say no," Dionysus countered. "That is my vote."

"I vote no as well," Chiron put in.

Silenus set his jaw stubbornly. "All in favor of the exile?"

He and the two other old satyrs raised their hands.

"How brave, and or stupid, is it to vote against a god?" Will asked. He'd been personally surprised they hadn't been smited.

"Probably a minor annoyance that causes hurricanes if a god votes against a god," Percy offered from personal experience. He'd seen a lot of side eyeing going on in that throne room.

"Depends on the god otherwise," Thalia murmured gently. She was a bit surprised as well Dionysus didn't turn him into a bag of grain, but as bad a mood as he was in, it was grief, not anger. Even he seemed to have decided there had been enough violence for one day to go through with it.

"Three to two," Silenus said.

"Ah, yes," Dionysus said. "But unfortunately for you, a god's vote counts twice. And as I voted against, we are tied."

Silenus stood, indignant. "This is an outrage! The council cannot stand at an impasse."

"Then let it be dissolved!" Mr. D said. "I don't care."

Silenus bowed stiffly, along with his two friends, and they left the grove.

"What a hill to die on," Alex said. They were a bunch of idiots hanging onto a ledge by their hooves, but goats were the best at that and likely would not get down until they decided to. It was a stubborn trait she could understand, even if that meant she didn't have to like it in this case.

"They need leadership," Jason said gently, but with clear concern. "Those old billy-wigs might have been stubborn and too resistant, but the rest of the satyr's are going to need someone else now for guidance, something everybody could use."

"I have a feeling they'll find it easily enough," Percy said with a surprisingly confident smile.

About twenty satyrs went with them. The rest stood around murmuring uncomfortably.

"Don't worry," Grover told them. "We don't need the council to tell us what to do. We can figure it out ourselves."

He told them again the words of Pan—how they must save the wild a little at a time. He started dividing the satyrs into groups—which ones would go to the national parks, which ones would search out the last wild places, which ones would defend the parks in the big cities.

"Well," Annabeth said to me, "Grover seems to be growing up."

"He had to finish puberty eventually, it was about time!" Alex said with lamented pain for him.

"I figured that back when he basically got married and divorced in one day," but Percy's old joke only held light laughter in here.

Will had stood on the edge of that clearing smiling for the first time all day to have seen it. Percy and Annabeth talking and smiling, the satyrs planning for their future with absolute resilience in the face of everything that had gone wrong. It had been a calming feeling, the kindling of hope as Mr. D vanished with a hint of grape. He liked to think it was off to find Pollux, but most likely it was back to the Big House. The fact that he hadn't stuck around, but in fact Chiron had wheeled himself off alone had said enough of what company was wanted.

Later that afternoon I found Tyson at the beach, talking to Briares. Briares was building a sand castle with about fifty of his hands. He wasn't really paying attention to it, but his hands had constructed a three-story compound with fortified walls, a moat, and a drawbridge.

"Has anybody ever tried to build a life sized model of a sand castle to live in?" Alex asked with immediate interest. "Is that what Poseidon was going to offer Sally? Because I think we could get Briares on this stat!"

"I think that's to much power for one person to wield, they'd rule the world from that spot," Percy said with the tone of regret of one who had already considered this idea and been forced to dismiss it.

Tyson was drawing a map in the sand.

"Go left at the reef," he told Briares. "Straight down when you see the sunken ship. Then about one mile east, past the mermaid graveyard, you will start to see fires burning."

"No diss on Tyson, but that sounds like the worst scavenger hunt of my life," Magnus shivered. All three of those landmarks should be avoided by anyone with a grain of intelligence, let alone what was waiting at the end!

"You clearly haven't spent enough time listening to my life then," Percy scoffed. "All of that sounds like the best dream come true!"

"To be fair, I think we could drop Percy into anywhere in the ocean and he'd just think it was the coolest thing. Not entirely the same," Thalia was on Magnus's side, she sure hoped she'd never have to be on the look out for a graveyard full of mermaids.

"You're giving him directions to the forges?" I asked.

Alex applauded Percy figuring that out so quickly and Percy showed her the bird.

Tyson nodded. "Briares wants to help. He will teach Cyclopes ways we have forgotten, how to make better weapons and armor."

"I want to see Cyclopes," Briares agreed. "I don't want to be lonely anymore."

"I doubt you'll be lonely down there," I said a little wistfully, because I'd never even been in Poseidon's kingdom.

They hadn't needed Nico to read that out loud to get the idea, it was in plain view now as he glanced at the decimated space. Somehow, even being trapped down here, he felt purposely barred from his father's realm and shoved off into the closet or something.

"They're going to keep you really busy."

Briares's face morphed to a happy expression. "Busy sounds good! I only wish Tyson could go, too."

Tyson blushed. "I need to stay here with my brother.

Percy cheered considerably along with the others though upon confirming the news Tyson was sticking around for a while longer. There was just something about him that made the feeling keep going they could get through another miserable page of this if there was Percy's little brother at the end waiting to hug them all at once.

You will do fine, Briares. Thank you."

The Hundred-Handed One shook my hand about a hundred times. "We will meet again, Percy. I know it!"

Then he gave Tyson a big octopus hug and waded out into the ocean.

"I've seen Aliens are Real blogs by citing octopi as the source," Alex said in her usual out of nowhere style. "Their blood is blue, they're weirdly super smart. I have this feeling they accidentally saw pictures of this guy and just went wild with it."

"It would not be the strangest theory that has some kind of confirmation," Nico nodded.

We watched until his enormous head disappeared under the waves.

I clapped Tyson on the back. "You helped him a lot."

"I only talked to him."

"You believed in him. Without Briares, we never would've taken down Kampê."

Tyson grinned. "He throws good rocks!"

"I have found the secret weapon to become Tyson's favorite person," Jason grinned, rubbing his hands together in a diabolical gesture.

"Bet I'll still win first by giving him a peanut butter sandwich," Alex sniffed.

"Amateurs," Percy rolled his eyes at the two.

I laughed. "Yeah. He throws really good rocks. Come on, big guy. Let's have dinner."

It felt good to have a regular dinner at camp. Tyson sat with me at the Poseidon table. The sunset over Long Island Sound was beautiful. Things weren't back to normal by a long shot, but when I went up to the brazier and scraped part of my meal into the flames as an offering to Poseidon, I felt like I really did have a lot to be grateful for.

Will struggled for a moment to swallow at that. He hadn't given an offering that night, something he could count on one hand. He hadn't resented his dad so much as not appearing during the actual battle, but afterwords while pushing food around on his plate, it had been more of a lingering feeling of loneliness. Surrounded by his siblings, his thoughts had been racing ahead. None of the gods had shown, it wasn't fair to just be mad at Apollo, and yet, all he'd been able to think about that night was what it would take to make him appear? If a whole cabin had been decimated, would that have finally earned a godly intervention?

My friends and I were alive.

Will had to grit his teeth against snapping at Percy for that. He'd suffered no major losses. From his point of view, that was true, and it's not like he'd stood up at the front and tried to make them all smile about this fact.

The camp was safe. Kronos had suffered a setback, at least for a while.

The only thing that bothered me was Nico, hanging in the shadows at the edge of the pavilion. He'd been offered a place at the Hermes table, and even at the head table with Chiron, but he had refused.

Will certainly hadn't noticed that, to busy with his own misery, and he felt a fresh wave of guilt for his old ignorance. Nico didn't sound resentful or upset while reading that though. Just calm, as casual as ever, this was his normal.

Which only made Will feel worse. That shouldn't be normal to anyone! Even if Nico wanted to remain a wall flower his whole life and never chose to sit with another person, he should still sound slightly tired at having stood through a meal, maybe a little uncomfortable at not fitting in at that moment. He didn't know how to wrap his head around Nico sometimes. Will was trying his best to accept Nico's differences, but a part of him was also hoping Nico wouldn't accept them so readily himself. The Son of Hades should still want to be able to be among his peers, even in the back, just like every Greek kid.

Nico was shifting his weight around, his hands fidgeting around the spine of the book. Classic signs by now something was either bothering him or about to bother him no matter how modulated his tone was. Will squeezed his shoulder without a second thought, then left his hand hovering there, as clear an invitation as he could he would back off and give him some space. Nico made a little noise in the back of his throat, like a scoff but to gentle, and settled back into a comfortable position to keep going so Will put his arm back across his shoulders as gently as ever.

After dinner, the campers headed toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin promised an awesome sing-along to pick up our spirits, but Nico turned and disappeared into the woods. I decided I'd better follow him.

Percy knew he wasn't the best friend Nico could have. He'd failed him one to many times already and was kind of creeped out by him and had kept making really stupid mistakes with no idea how to fix them.

And yet he still leaned forward in his seat. He still wanted to help with no clue how. He'd been that kid in every other group of peers except this one place and he wished he knew how to make this better as Nico paused and cleared his throat and didn't look up at Percy before continuing. Percy had probably disappointed him again, or made him angry and he wasn't acting on it or something else. Percy wished he could say something to make it right, he just couldn't think what.

As I passed under the shadows of the trees, I realized how dark it was getting. I'd never been scared in the forest before, though I knew there were plenty of monsters. Still, I thought about yesterday's battle, and I wondered if I'd ever be able to walk in those woods again without remembering the horror of so much fighting.

I couldn't see Nico, but after a few minutes of walking I saw a glow up ahead. At first I thought Nico had lit a torch. As I got closer, I realized the glow was a ghost. The shimmering form of Bianca di Angelo stood in the clearing, smiling at her brother. She said something to him and touched his face—or tried to. Then her image faded.

She'd said she was proud of him, a moment Nico intended to take to his grave. Since he'd finally stopped pestering her to appear she'd made one last chance to come see him herself and promised he was now on the right path, and she was proud of him.

He wondered if she still would be, knowing he'd been slipping backwards and looking for her again. If she knew he was now thinking about going into Tartarus alone. If she'd wanted him to stay at Camp but couldn't hold onto her ghostly form long enough to share more than a few words with him. None of it ever felt like enough.

Nico turned and saw me, but he didn't look mad.

"Saying good-bye," he said hoarsely.

Nico deserved that so much, for not getting something so precious and often rare enough in the mundane world. Not even the first time when her ghost had appeared to him on that ranch with only advice and a warning.

Nico should have been able to say everything he wanted to her before she departed again, but there was something in his haunted face that not a one of them could speak to when they'd all suffered their own loss. There was just something about the hitch in Nico's voice that promised this was still an ongoing problem for him he wanted nobody's input on.

"We missed you at dinner," I said. "You could've sat with me."

"No."

"What an interesting dynamic you two have," Thalia said with a faint smile. "You'll kill for each other but can't stand to share a meal."

Percy nodded like this made absolute sense while Nico looked at her with a strange, almost offended expression because he couldn't deny it but didn't exactly want it to be true.

"Nico, you can't miss every meal.

"Not for lack of trying," Will muttered under his breath. Nico gracefully ignored that.

If you don't want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the Big House. They've got plenty of rooms."

"I'm not staying, Percy."

Percy had somehow known this the moment he'd seen him standing off in those shadows. He didn't even know where he'd been all day or what he was doing after the battle. That was kind of the problem. He couldn't begin to guess where Nico could fit in there. He just wanted to try and make it work.

"But...you can't just leave. It's too dangerous out there for a lone halfblood. You need to train."

"I train with the dead," he said flatly. "This camp isn't for me. There's a reason they didn't put a cabin to Hades here, Percy. He's not welcome, any more than he is on Olympus. I don't belong. I have to go."

"You haven't always felt welcomed there either Percy," Alex said.

He winced at how true that was and couldn't argue, but she pressed in anyways.

She sounded just as Nico did, and nobody found it hard to believe she skirted the world of what everybody thought normal was. "You should trust him when he says that and find some other way, not yours."

Percy didn't like that answer any better than Nico's. The problem ran deeper than just where he slept though. It started with the gods, what Nico said was true. The kids would never fully accept him, they followed their parent's will, and in a way it's why there were still Campers left who hadn't all defected to Luke. Nico, as always, was left somewhere in the middle.

I wanted to argue, but part of me knew he was right. I didn't like it, but Nico would have to find his own, dark way.

Percy had spent so long looking for this kid, it still felt like a failure to admit this. He didn't have a problem with Nico being gay, with him finding more comfort with the dead than the living, for his strange nerdy tendencies. He just struggled to grasp it all at once, that Nico Di Angelo was truly someone he seemed to have nothing in common with and didn't know how to help in the slightest.

He had Will and Alex now though, Percy tried to relax into his seat with a smile. At least Percy didn't have to try and look out for this kid on his own anymore.

I remembered in Pan's cave, how the wild god had addressed each one of us individually...except Nico.

Will startled like a long tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. His eyes darted to Nico's, who were suddenly averted and studying his ring deeply. Had that been what Nico was so afraid of him hearing?

"Hope you're not to upset Nico," Will offered giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze again, "we all want the gods to single us out, and then they do, and well," he used his other hand to wave at Percy to emphasize his point.

"I'm tired of being the exception," Nico murmured, watching Will for a reaction he couldn't guess. "I don't want to just be the death kid."

"Pan will be sorry he's missing that," Will grinned, "but death is a part of nature. He connected with you the only way he knew how, just like the others." He'd spoken to Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson about the future and the prophecy, familiar and vague enough territory for any god. He'd spoken to Rachel of her rich dad that had no care of the environment, which she'd clearly hated as much as Nico had.

Will was right, Nico nodded to himself in answer. The gods rarely left their domain or bothered with much outside it, and he wasn't going to stick to one bubble even if they couldn't grasp that.

Nico was the one reading, so it's not like it was subtle they were over here having their own whispered conversation. Nobody was sure what it was about, but as Nico kept reading with a slight smile that made a rare dimple appear, and Will left his arm in place on his shoulders, it wasn't exactly a huge mystery either.

"When will you go?" I asked.

"Right away. I've got tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I need to find out."

Will wished he could ask how that worked out for him, but there were more reasons why he shouldn't. If Nico would tell him if he wanted, if Percy somehow helped Nico sometime over the course of their battle as he was apt to do, if it was private and perhaps he'd like to keep it that way. He'd like to know though, or offer to help if it was even hinted he could.

"Makes sense," I admitted. "But I hope we don't have to be enemies."

He lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry I was a brat. I should've listened to you about Bianca."

"Brat is a strong word reserved for some people," Jason said with a significant look at Percy who gave him a very obvious confused stare. "You were upset and younger back then. If you don't look back on yourself a few years ago and cringe at how awkward you were, you haven't grown enough since then." Not that he'd know anything about that, he had all of those same questions about himself and more, but he was confident enough about the sentiment.

"Thanks," Nico managed with a mild laugh. He felt like he was still wobbling between that line of looking back and moving forward with the confidence of having taken advice from Dionysus, but it was getting easier with practice.

"By the way..." I fished something out of my pocket. "Tyson found this while we were cleaning the cabin. Thought you might want it." I held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico had abandoned when he fled camp last winter.

Nico hesitated. "I don't play that game anymore. It's for kids."

"It's got four thousand attack power," I coaxed.

"Five thousand," Nico corrected. "But only if your opponent attacks first."

It was the kind of info Nico felt was ingrained into his brain. He probably had dreams about Mythomagic when he couldn't remember but woke up feeling happy and confident about the day. The sort of easy topic he could strike up a conversation with anybody about.

And Percy, of all people, had just encouraged that. The same guy who still thought of him as a pesky child, had been actively convincing him that was okay to be. He liked to think that wasn't the sole reason he'd kept it all these years, it was a combination of him and Bianca he was also still working on separating, but it had been the nicest feeling he'd had in a long while. Months probably. It was a memory, for once, he found himself happy looking back on.

I smiled. "Maybe it's okay to still be a kid once in a while." I tossed him the statue.

Nico studied it in his palm for a few seconds, then slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks."

I put out my hand. He shook reluctantly. His hand was as cold as ice.

Will had noticed that repeatedly, that Nico ran colder than most. Yet, after they'd eaten a meal, or he got into one of his excited phases, his skin radiated warmth. There was an icy cold feeling in Will's gut Nico only got cold as a corpse when he'd been using his powers to much, when he was anxious, when he felt that internal need to push away.

He felt perfectly warm under Will's arm now.

"I've got a lot of things to investigate," he said. "Some of them...Well, if I learn anything useful, I'll let you know."

Percy wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. It sounded ominous, and his skin twitched like he felt threatened again, though his mind told his gut to shut up and this was a good parting. As good as could be expected after all that.

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I nodded. "Keep in touch, Nico."

He turned and trudged off into the woods. The shadows seemed to bend toward him as he walked, like they were reaching out for his attention.

Because he'd shadow traveled away, Nico recalled with interest. He'd spent maybe an hour in those woods, tops, before he finally managed his disastrous first attempt and ended up in China, only waking up a week later in a field of dead bamboo.

A voice right behind me said, "There goes a very troubled young man."

Nico had to pause and compose himself before he could make himself read who had said that about him. The worst person by far would be Annabeth, he would have been much happier in ignorance one of his few good memories so far hadn't been watched by her. Chiron would just feel like a blow to his face, that the protector of that camp hadn't felt the need to tell him to stay either because he really did know better. He couldn't imagine any camper there besides Will knowing enough about him to speak up, let alone bother to wait until he left to say that behind his back.

I turned and found Dionysus standing there, still in his black suit.

It was the cool wine dude god though, Nico smiled in surprise to see. Possibly the most real thing any god had said about him.

Thalia's heart gripped her tight and raced into her throat as the unprompted image of Zeus came to mind. If he'd mourned Jason's death, if he'd cared at all. The idea of Mr. D giving a rats ass about any kid in that camp dying was common knowledge among them all, so for him to still be in mourning more than twenty minutes after the news of his son's death must have been as much a shock to all them as much as her.

"Walk with me," he said.

"Where to?" I asked suspiciously.

"Never change Percy," Alex told him proudly.

"I get suspicious of a cookie that's been in one place to long, trust me, I won't," Percy nodded seriously.

"Just to the campfire," he said. "I was beginning to feel better, so I thought I would talk with you a bit. You always manage to annoy me."

"Everyone has their own natural talents?" Will tried to say like that was a good thing.

"Now we just have to decide how this ranks among his other skills, like saving the world and eating three meals in one," Thalia nodded.

Percy couldn't help but notice nobody in here had jumped to deny it.

"Uh, thanks."

We walked through the woods in silence. I noticed that Dionysus was treading on air, his polished black shoes hovering an inch off the ground. I guess he didn't want to get dirty.

Magnus clutched his coat a little tighter to him and averted his eyes to the ground. Perhaps Percy had never felt the stain in one's own feet of being somewhere you were forced into with no other choice. He wasn't sure about Dionysus, if he'd had a choice if he would be there for once, the place where his loan son was. Or if he, like the other gods, would be avoiding this place if only his punishment would allow him that grace. Like a park with grass and leaves you had no other choice but to sleep in because everywhere else had turned you away. The very concrete of suburbia under his boots had felt unwelcome some days.

"We have had many betrayals," he said. "Things are not looking good for Olympus. Yet you and Annabeth saved this camp.

A surge of affection Percy had never quite felt for Mr. D before washed over him. Not when he'd saved his and Thalia's life, not even when he got his own name right, but now. When he finally said Annabeth's name right so much later.

I'm not sure I should thank you for that."

"It was a group effort."

"The only group project in history where all participants strived to be equal," Will said with a lackluster kind of charm, because there had still been those who were let down by their best efforts.

He shrugged. "Regardless, I suppose it was mildly competent, what you two did. I thought you should know—it wasn't a total loss."

We reached the amphitheater, and Dionysus pointed toward the campfire.

Clarisse was sitting shoulder to shoulder with a big Hispanic kid who was telling her a joke. It was Chris Rodriguez, the half-blood who'd gone insane in the Labyrinth.

"Woah!" Alex yipped with the determination of stopping a horse dead in its tracks.

Nico had needed no such instructions. He was just as surprised as them. He'd really never known anything about Chris, he'd never been around camp long enough to even pick him out of a crowd before this.

"What kind of life altering quest did Clarisse go on to get him to do that?" Jason asked, squinting like the sun was in his eyes.

"Nothing at all I'm sure," Will reminded, his sad blue eyes on Thalia and Percy. Just because he didn't go around advertising it didn't mean this was the first time Mr. D had done something so kind out of the blue. Will probably would have hugged him if he didn't think he'd get turned into a grapevine for it.

I turned to Dionysus. "You cured him?"

"Madness is my specialty. It was quite simple."

"But...you did something nice. Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I am nice! I simply ooze niceness, Perry Johansson. Haven't you noticed?"

"That one was barely recognizable," Magnus was trying his best not to laugh and failing.

"He once called me Walker Scobell," Will shrugged. "He gets real creative with it sometimes, we just kind of roll with it."

"Uh—"

"Perhaps I felt grieved by my son's death. Perhaps I thought this Chris boy deserved a second chance. At any rate, it seems to have improved Clarisse's mood."

"Do we have bets on how long that lasts?" Percy asked, his lips tugging up in a smile.

"Nah, we just hope it lasts," Thalia said with a grateful heart somebody out there got their happy ending even for one brief moment.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're the prophecy child and everything has to happen to you," Magnus told him in sympathy.

"Because it would just be awkward if he pulled Grover aside and told him to tell you, and he's nothing if not direct," Alex snickered.

Percy rolled his eyes at the pair, but he didn't think Dionysus was going to give him a better answer either.

The wine god sighed. "Oh, Hades if I know.

Or, no answer at all. Yeah, that seemed on par.

But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword. As a mortal, I was never a great fighter or athlete or poet. I only made wine. The people in my village laughed at me. They said I would never amount to anything. Look at me now. Sometimes small things can become very large indeed."

"This guy apparently is just oozing niceness," Magnus scratched at the back of his neck with a happy smile. He was like a grumpy old man who kept scowling while feeding the homeless his would-be-throw-away food knowing he could get a ticket for it. If all the gods went out of their way to show some lackluster decency, just giving one person every day some small miracle, who knew how much better the world would be.

He left me alone to think about that. And as I watched Clarisse and Chris singing a stupid campfire song together, holding hands in the darkness, where they thought nobody could see them, I had to smile.

"Oh," Alex said with a surprised, and yet delighted tone for her. Clarisse's sudden bedside manner from before suddenly brought in a whole new light. Her stomach quivered as she all to easily pictured how Clarisse's situation would have progressed- and yet smiled with relief it was just a horrible sense of deja vu she'd lived on the streets instead of something one person had avoided.

Nico's voice held a wayward gentleness to it not usually present. He'd been passed out in countries unknown right now, alone and sucking up life from every living thing around him. If he'd asked Percy to come, he never would have said yes...right? But it would never have changed anything, of that he knew.

Now as he found himself handing the book to Will, he was absently studying Will's hand that took the book. His deep tan skin, his long fingers, his sun-withered grip always so confident and steady. He remembered his time in the Casino like a hazy dream, but he'd been so sure he held a boy's hand in there, an innocent childlike gesture of not getting lost in the crowd of Mythomagic players as they ran around laughing with their fingers intertwined. It most likely hadn't even been real. Will's palm had been hovering in his presence for days now without flinching away. It sounded like a nice feeling he might have without the Mist one day soon.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Thalia Grace #nico di angelo #Will Solace #solangelo #Jason Grace #alex fierro #Magnus Chase #fierrochase #percabeth

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ilaiyayaya · 9 months

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I Am So Mad rn frfr

I hate that my mental health always takes a massive drop around this time of the year. The worst part is like, it's not even like normal seasonal depression, I like fall and winter and like as soon as Christmas is done I'm fine again for the rest of the winter months. But god I fucking can't take having to see my family like once every week or 2 for a full 3 months from the start of October to the end of December because there's always either a holiday or one of their birthday's. At least I narrowly avoided one of the 2 worst days, Thanksgiving, because I had work as an excuse 🎉🎉🎉 unfortunately I don't have work on Christmas and because I avoided them for Thanksgiving I am going to be hearing shit over that on top of the normal things that make me want to die. I am actually at my fucking limit of dealing with these people, the last time I saw them I got extremely close to having a meltdown and fighting my uncle. If I hear a single fucking thing this time about my fucking hair, or my ear-piercing, or my job, or the way I fucking walk, or if one of them say I look like a [REDACTED] because of any of those things I'm gonna fucking lose it. I fucking hate my entire dad's side of my family and I can't fucking escape them in my current situation and yet my mom's side of my family is mostly great and I don't have a problem with a majority of them, unfortunately I haven't been able to talk to any of them in several years and trying to get in contact with any of them would give an easy way for my mother to find me which would potentially put my life in danger so yea that's cool.

At least after Christmas I'll be done with them for a while so just 1 more week and it'll all be over, and as long as I'm out of my father's house by this time next year, which there's no reason why I shouldn't be aside from my own incompetence (which is a really big obstacle, I can't do shit right), I won't have to see any of them ever again. Just 1 more week 1 more week only 1 more I can do it I'll live no more holidays after that I can survive 1 week surely I won't go on a psychotic rampage within that little amount of time.

AND last night someone I haven't talked to in like 6 months randomly messaged me on Discord minutes before I was about to go to sleep wanting to call, and I regrettably said sure. This was like 5 hours before I was supposed to go to work too and the entire like 2 hours he had me trapped in the call I was just desperately trying to find an excuse out (even tho I literally had a very valid excuse of having work the next morning) and of course I did not get a single moment of sleep afterwards because it was too late by the time I got out and was tired af the entire day (I have still not slept since then because I am very smart and take very good care of myself and always get sufficient sleep and I have work again in 6 hours).

The call itself was completely fucking miserable too, there is a reason I haven't talked to this person in 6 months and absolutely should not have agreed to talk but I suck and can't say no to anything ever. Immediately like 1 minute in they start telling me about how they think some girl at a bookstore they go to is flirting with them, which like, on it's own, if it was actually happening, like that's fine, whatever, cool, but then the snowball really starts when he mentions her age as "probably in her early 20s" (he's like, at least 35 (which again, normally I don't care, fine on it's own)), and I blanked out really fucking hard for 90% of that call so I don't even remember everything he said about her after that, but I do remember him progressively changing her age as he kept talking to "probably 20" then "at least 18" and then after that kinda implying but not outright stating that she's possibly not even 18. This entire time I was pretty much not saying a word except like "yea" and "uh-huh" and like other completely meaningless responses, so it just felt like he was having an internal debate with himself over whether he should try to go after this potentially underaged retail worker except instead of it being internal it was out loud, to me. What's fucking worse is the conclusion he came to was that like, he "doesn't really care about how others perceive him at this point" in reference to trying to hit on this probably underage retail worker. I feel really bad for that bookstore clerk she probably literally was just trying to do a job that she has to do and now this creep thinks she's into him. AAAAAAAAAA AND I'M THE FUCKING WORST BECAUSE THE ENTIRE TIME THE MOST I SAID WAS LIKE "yea I probably wouldn't do that, but like it's your life I can't stop you" INSTEAD OF TAKING A HARD STANCE AND JUST SAYING OUTRIGHT TO FUCK OFF AND DIE.

After they finally finished being the biggest creep I have had to talk to in months they just started talking about a bunch of random games they'd been playing, and they got really hung up on Baldur's Gate 3 specifically, they fuckin' hate it. I should preface this part with, I have mentioned to this person once in the past that I am nonbinary and trans and they were kinda weird about it then and I just didn't ever bring it up after that, but they still definitely knew unless they just forgot. So like, idk anything about Baldur's Gate, or D&D as a whole, but I've heard 3 is good, and so when he first brought it up I said "I haven't played it but I have literally only heard good things about it" big mistake, this instantly led to him listing off every issue he had with the game, specifically it's writing, and how much he hates that they added the ability to choose your pronouns because it's a classic fantasy game and pronoun choice doesn't make sense in a D&D-style fantasy world (even though I thought like the entire point of D&D was making your own character whatever the fuck you want it to be). He also really didn't like that you can be in a polyamorous relationship in 3 and brought up an example of like, some character in 2 would never be in a poly relationship, and if you chose them as your partner they would probably kill you if you tried going out with anyone else, but like, that character isn't in 3 as far as I'm aware, and also like, just because it wasn't in 2 doesn't mean they can't add it in 3, actually that was like the crux of most of his points he just really didn't like anything that was even slightly different than Baldur's Gate 2. Also side note but that character he brought up from 2 I do not remember the name of at all and every single time he brought her up he was like "surely you know her, you've definitely seen her there's tons of rule 34 of her" sorry but no I haven't seen the porn of a random character that I didn't even know existed and I don't know why you assume I have. Anyways now I have a reason to play Baldur's Gate 3 and never touch Baldur's Gate 1 or 2 entirely out of spite.

I don't know why the fuck he just randomly wanted to talk to me and have these specific fucking conversations with me of all people but now I've had to spend the last 20 hours thinking about how much that call pissed me off so that's fun. God I fucking wish I had some basic fucking social ability to tell someone to fuck off without worrying about, literally nothing, just completely nebulous anxiety, I had literally no reason not to just leave the call and tell him not to message me again as soon as he started being weird BECAUSE I DON'T ACTUALLY FUCKING GIVE A SHIT HOW SOMEONE WHO IS THAT MUCH OF A PIECE OF SHIT REACTS TO ME TELLING THEM TO SHUT UP WHY THE FUCK AM I LIKE THIS AAAAAAAAA I'M JUST FUCKING BLOCKING HIM NOW LIKE I SHOULD HAVE LAST NIGHT AAAAAAAAA. At least in this case I can just easily block him and be done with it, I'm not friends with anyone he knows anymore and I already hadn't been talking to him but like, ugh.

#let's go only 4 more hours until I have to be up for work again let's see how long I can keep the no sleep train going #no I don't need therapy or meds all I need is jerma house flipper streams #if judge makes “handgina” -10 points #god i can't wait for january so i can hopefully not constantly feel like shit anymore and also actually enjoy winter #I'm so mad I'm so mad #I'm huffing and puffing im stomping and puffing i'm so mad #oh im so infuriated im so mad im stomping #oh ive never been so mad ohhhhh ive never been so enraged #girlboss moment #gamer moment

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jodilin65 · 7 months

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Going to make this entry about my appointment and write about other stuff in another entry. I may not feel good for a couple of days and therefore not up to writing much because of the shingles vaccination I had, but we’ll see.

It’s a chilly and windy day out there so it’s a good thing I didn’t wear a tank top.

I could faintly hear Ray’s TV when we stepped outside. As long as we don’t hear it inside our place. His house also has its original windows which are crappy single-pane windows that let sound pass through easily.

I hate starting over with new docs, even though this is technically a nurse! This is the third time since being here and we haven’t even been in Florida for 3 years. However, while I didn’t like the waiting time, I liked Rhonda, the nurse I saw. She knew and understood everything I told her except for the sleep disorder.

She managed to save me an appointment by giving me a list of what I should eat and how much of each thing. Going to try having 1200 calories a day. So no need to see a nutritionist, at least at this time. I’ll see her in 4 months and we’ll discuss my lab results and see if I’ve lost weight then. She doesn’t think I should go under 150 lbs given my age and reminded me that your height doesn’t automatically determine what your weight should be. Your age and muscularity is a factor as well. I’ve got a lot of years and a lot of muscle on me. Even 12 lbs would make a difference at my height. No one thought I looked fat at that weight and even I’ll admit that while I certainly wasn’t skinny at 150, I wasn’t that big either. It was still both weird and nice to hear her say, “You don’t have that much to lose,” even though I’m not doing this for looks.

She shocked the shit out of me by telling me she dropped from something like 255 to 130. She was very skinny. So much so that I would think it was in her genetics to be that way. She says she works hard every day to keep her weight down and that it took her about a year to get most of the weight off.

To start from the beginning - we found the place easily and arrived early. The waiting room was dead and the TV and music were at a reasonable volume even though I still prefer nothing at all. My phone or journal is enough to entertain me while I wait.

After 20 minutes of waiting a guy came and got me. He took my vitals and input my medications. Another 10 minutes or so and Rhonda came in.

She knew right away what I was talking about when I told her that the thyroid medication can cause anxiety. I also told her I couldn’t stand to get my TSH in the normal range. Before I could point out that doctors told me as long as I was under 10, I was okay, she mentioned that. So it’s good that she was understanding and not any kind of a denier. Based on my current weight and energy levels, I shouldn’t be over 10 now.

As I’ve had to do at times, she mentioned that others have to sometimes cut a bit of time off as well before food and drink after taking levothyroxine or even skip a day or two but I want to do all I can to avoid skipping altogether because that can make me more anxious. She said I would need my dose decreased if I hit 150. I don’t know if I can sustain a diet of 1200 calories a day, but I’m going to try my best. Maybe knowing I’ll be seeing her again in 4 months will motivate me because she’s going to check my progress then. I’m going to have three 300-calorie meals, and the rest of my calories will be snacks and coffee. So my portion sizes are going to have to go way down, and it’s going to take time to adapt if I ever can. I can only have 3 ounces of meat per meal, 25 to 35 carbs per meal, and 10 carbs per snack. I’m going to look up keto recipes for various meal ideas and she gave me some suggestions too.

She gave me a referral to the ENT and I showed her my fingernail that keeps splitting. She said she once had a nail that kept splitting and her manicurist put some kind of an acrylic overlay on it that allowed it to grow out past the split.

She listened well and didn’t make me feel rushed or anything like that and said to just message her over the portal when I’m ready for refills on medications.

I hope I’m not going to regret the shingles shot. It’s a two-shot dose. The second shot I’ll get when I see her in 4 months. It was rough on Tom for a couple of days after he got his because he felt like he had the flu with symptoms of fatigue, muscle aches, and chills. Rhonda said the second shot is typically rougher and Tom agreed. They both insist it’s worth it as having the shingles is no fun at all. My mother had the shingles but I don’t think the vaccine existed then. It’s recommended to everyone over 50.

I updated her on all the cardiac testing I had and told her I have high cholesterol and why I’m not on statins.

She confirmed that my mammogram and GYN check-ups were up to date.

Labs will be the week before I see her again.

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lilacastar · 7 months

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KDA 18: Familiar patterns

Small pricks in the back of his neck reminded Kalrick he didn't shower after cutting his hair.

He sat up, dizzy and needing food, but lighter. His phone read 3:06, and hundreds of unopened messages. God it'd been so long since he was able to check his phone in the morning. The top message was from a new group chat Randal and 5K started that morning. He replied back he was fine, and would keep them updated.

Everything else was pretty old. A lot of people asking where he was, how he was doing, if he was alright. All of them unanswered. Eventually people had completely stopped trying to contact him it seemed. There were more messages at the bottom, and the fresher the date, the less frequency.

Until he reached January, two years ago.

Jan 12

Haven: Awesome! I've booked you for next week. Do you have the design you want inked?

You: image.png

Haven: Looks good, I can definitely do that :)

Jan 15

Haven: What you up to?

Jan 19

Haven: Wanna come over?

Jan 20

Haven: Right. no one talks to you, you come to me or something emo

Kalrick starred at the image he sent. The same sigil on his body. He didn't remember sending this at all or even who Haven was. But it had to be him, since the demonic didn't use his phone at all. There must've been a period of time right before the possession that would make things clearer.

Anyone with mild information about occult knew better than to tattoo a demons sigil on themself. Just as bad if not worse than getting your boyfriend's name on your arm, and he still didn't know who was on his body.

A quick flip through his grimoire didn't show previous signs of working with that demon. He'd worked with Azazel, Vassago, Dantalion, and Astaroth. He didn't have the patience for Lucifer or anyone like that, but it didn't matter. He'd never work with someone enough to tattoo their sigil on himself.

But this was progress. He had someone to find, a name even. A quick internet search could probably even find this tattoo artist. Now he needed to confront his mom.

Down the hall, he stepped into the living room where she peered through her cateye glasses onto her phone.

"You were out late." She said without looking up.

"I was." He replied.

"What time did you get back?"

"Late. I wanted to spend the night but I'm not ready."

"I don't remember saying that was ok."

"Well, mom, I'm also 26 and still am on the lease to the apartment under my name, so there's that."

"Oh, well excuse me for caring."

"Mom, that's not what I wanted talk about." He sighed. "I know you're into Jesus, but did we used to go to church when I was a kid?"

Her attention broke from her phone, immediately facing him.

"Oh-" her voice cracked. "You're hair!" Her hands fluttered and motioned, but she didn't touch it.

"Yeah, I cut it. But did you take me to church when I was little?"

Her hands finally found a place over her mouth, attempting to quiet her instant tears.

"Your hair," She cried and shook her hair. "It was so beautiful."

"It wasn't for you." he said flattly.

"You used to have it like that as a child, it was so pretty and I just got you back," She whined.

"And I also cut it as a child."

His words only made her cry harder, and she removed her glasses to wipe the tears away.

"Did I go to therapy as a kid?"

"Your hair... I had my baby back and- you seemed happy again. I just-"

She mumbled something Kalrick couldn't make out.

"It's not about you." He said softly. But her reaction didn't get worse or better. She probably didn't hear.

"I don't want to lose you again," She sniffed.

The guilt that had kept him calm all 5 minutes evaporated in the same sentence. Making her cry was never his intention, he didn't cut his hair to make her sad or get back or anything. It made him feel sorry for asking anything relating to the past at all.

But the match of anger struck back.

"Why are you afraid of losing me?" He snapped and she flinched at the sudden change of volume. "You didn't even notice anything was wrong!"

He stormed out of the house, chest and fists burning. The bright sun only reinforced the heat that flushed to his cheeks, blazing into his walking ritual.

Why did she deserve to miss him when she didn't even notice he was gone all that time? Why did she get any opinion on his body when the only times she liked the way he looked, he was at his worst? It wasn't her hair, it was his, and everyone felt entitled to him.

He completed the ritual, and immediately felt the desired calming effect. The sickness from last night retreated from high tide, and embraced the wave of peace.

Back to the house, he showered away the stray hairs, completed the ritual once more, and closed his bedroom behind him. He browsed through the grimoire, refreshing his memory on visualization and protection. He needed it now more than ever.

His mom knocked softly three times on the other side of the door. He paused, refusing to speak and she knocked another set of three.

"Kalrick?" She called gently. "You know I love you, and I always will. "

He said nothing, but instead put the book inside his bag and texted the chat he'd be on his way to the apartment.

"I didn't mean to upset you," She continued. "And I'm sorry..."

He held his position, waiting to zip up the other half of the bag.

"I'm so sorry I made you feel like I don't."

He resumed the motion, and visualized a barrier of protection along with the same sensation of falling. Falling like he did off the roof, falling through the motion of leaving the gate out front. He concentrated on drawing the same energy, and visualized the sigil crisp and vibrant.

The energy pooled, and like surface tension breaking, overflowed and burst out. The room around him folded like oragami and with a pop inside his ears, the pressure changed and tore through. His knees gave out and the rest of him crashed against his apartment door.

He tumbled through, backpack weighing him down stomach first on the carpet.

"What the fuck!" 5K Shouted, dropping the blunt he was about to light and nearly falling off the couch. His face was so gaunt, he'd probably seen less scarry roaches.

Something ticked from the back of Kalrick's skull into his sense of direction, and his orientation loaded in all at once. The coordinates locked and instantaneously became aware exactly which way everything was faced. He knew exactly how and where to do the ritual from his position.

"I'll be right back," Kalrick shoved himself up and walked right out the door without closing it.

His mind screamed for sleep, but he knew better now to trust his body's instinct. It was the ritual that gave him energy, the ritual he couldn't function without. And using magick to teleport actually helped him reorientate. It was just like his spells in his grimoire, all he needed was to practice a little and it sparked right back.

Just like at his mom's home, his body knew exactly what to do and followed its instinct around the apartment complex.

"Get back here, fucker!" 5K shouted after him. "Where you going?" He panted, catching up to him.

Kalick continued the ritual, completely ignoring his roommate. 5K tugged at his arm, hoping to grab his attention but instead all he got were strange looks from the passersby. He didn't have the capacity to care what people thought of the two strange kids- grown men stumbling around the apartment. His choppy hair and strange walking pattern, his friend chasing him down in his socks.

He looped, circled and followed the correct way until landing back at his door, letting out a sigh of replenishment. He blinked, becoming able to concentrate on more than the need to balance himself.

5K stared at him.

"I'm good now." Kalrick nodded.

"What the fuck was that?" 5K said.

"Don't worry about it," He entered the building and let 5K catch the door after him.

"How did you get here?"

"Teleported. I don't know how soon Randal will get here, but I sent it in the chat I'm ready to bounce as soon as we're all here."

"Where are we going?"

"Tattoo shops." He gestured to his wrists, where the disrupted sigils marked his skin. "Let's find out who gave me this shit."

"Ok, but I need to smoke first." He nodded.

That was an oddly instant agreement. Kalrick's memory of the past was distant and foggy, but he doubted 5K being like this before. It's not that they were especially close or anything, but he was certain this wasn't the same. Nothing was the same, but his character and mannerisms had slid in a direction he couldn't see.

"Make yourself at home," 5K said. "Fuck- this is your home. Uh, you know what I mine. Mean."

"It probably didn't feel like it, since you said I wasn't here most of the time. I feel bad that you got the shit end of the stick in all this."

"Nah, you're good, honest." He shook his head. "I'll get you some water."

He took out a red solo cup from a stack, and next the pitcher from the fridge. Kalrick watched curiously, as he placed the plastic cup in the sink before pouring the water. He gripped the pitcher with both hands, but they still shook unsteadily. Roughly one-third of the glass worth missed, draining into the sink.

Once full, he refilled the pitcher, returning it to the fridge and stiffly gave Kalrick the cup.

"Um, thanks." Kalrick responded, both taking a seat on the couch.

The skinny, tattooed friend finally picked up the blunt he'd dropped.

Kalrick sipped the water, pretending as if he weren't eagerly waiting to see how 5K would light up. The previous night his fingers weren't able to unwrap the newspaper well, and just a moment ago he couldn't pour water normal. How would he be able to flick a lighter?

5K brought out his lighter but did not snap his wrist or flick the mechanism. But instead pressed down a button and the flame awoke. He drew a long breath, settling into the indent on the couch.

The smell brought back fond memories and unwinding anxiety, when his friend extended his arm. It was shottily stick'n poked in several places, and spots near his wrist were burned from ciggerets.

He accepted the offering, inhaled, then passed it back. Two years of a T break was going to feel so good. Within a few minutes of passing it between each other, Kalrick's fear of social inadiquacy subsided. 5K was a chill guy, he'd understand his curiousity.

"Hey," Kalrick started.

His friend nodded in agckowlagment.

"I know my body went through a hell of a lot of things without me recently. And right now I'm trying to make sense of all that. But..."

5K looked up at the ceiling and exhaled more smoke, displaying his large adams apple. Had his nose always been crooked? It seemed to have been broken and rehealed wrong.

"But?" His grey eyes glanced at Kalrick's dark ones.

"But what happened to you? I'm not trying to be rude, but you're not the same."

"Yeah," He sighed. "I havn't been completly honest with you."

#KDA #KDA 18

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ssthirdlife · 2 years

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20: 54 - jeon wonwoo genre: smut. minors dni.

This was the last time.

This was going to be the last time you’re gonna let him into your place and devour you in a way he only knew.

But that’s what you told yourself last week.

All of your rational thoughts–about how dangerous the game you're playing with him–was thrown out of the window the minute he walked into your place and pressed wet, intoxicating kisses on your exposed shoulder, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop tightly.

Just as usual, things escalated quickly. At first, he's busy pressing kisses on every inch of skin that he can reach–your shoulders, your neck, your jaw–with his hands roaming around your body, eliciting goosebumps when they inched closer and closer to one of your most sensitive spots.

It made you feel dirty, doing this in the kitchen, but you didn’t want to be a hypocrite because you still found this very hot, and the dampening spot in between your legs was progressively getting wetter.

"Thought last week was the last time, hmm?" He teased, eliciting goosebumps through your whole body when you felt him dropping a soft kiss on that sensitive spot under your right ear. His fingers danced around on your body, making the journey south until they reached the hem of your–his–shirt and bunched up the shirt on his hand.

The thing about Wonwoo was that he never wasted a moment. The moment his hand cupped you through your panties and felt the fabric dampens, he let out a chuckle and pulled the fabric to the side.

"But I guess you're getting addicted to me, aren't you? Haven't done anything but you're drenched already." The squelching sound of his fingers pumping inside of you weakened your knees. Shutting your eyes, your head was thrown back, leaning on his shoulder. The pleasure of having his fingers inside of you was overwhelmingly good.

You had been thinking about this. You had been thinking about having him all over you since your lunch break. You had thought about how you just didn’t want to think, how you wanted to be railed until your head was empty. And whenever you thought about this way of relieving stress, it's always his face and his name that ever crossed your brain.

It had been a particularly long day for you–it felt like the week had gone by way too slowly for your liking–and there was nothing more that could make it all better than spending the rest of your week with him playing you in the way he only could.

"What do you want?" Your response to his question was a loud moan, his fingers pressing that sensitive spot inside of you. "Want me to ruin you? Want me to break you 'till you can't think anymore?"

"Won– ah– Wonwoo, please." It felt nice to only focus on what’s happening at the moment, to feel the way Wonwoo pleasured you in the way you imagined all day.

The way he held you in his arms and kept whispering the things he planned to do to you with his fingers sent you over the edge for the first time tonight.

He kept his promise. Done with his fingers, he turned you around and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the countertop. This was the first time you see his face again after last week–after he left you in the morning after numerous intense rounds of fucking the night before–and you couldn’t believe you had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were behind the thin-rimmed glasses he’s sporting.

Catching his breath, he took off his glasses and put them aside before leaning in to capture your lips in his. You loved feeling his lips on yours, loved having them pressed on your skin too, loved having your unmarked skin as his blank canvas.

He shushed you as he shoved his length inside you slowly, the action eliciting a loud gasp. "Deep breaths, baby, deep breaths. I know you can take it.” You knew you could take him, but there was something about tonight that made him feel bigger and the stretch that you felt made you lose your mind. Your shaky hands found purchase on his shoulders, a drawn-out moan pushing out of your mouth when he finally fit it all inside of you.

“There she is, my pretty little doll. You take me in so well.” He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him.

The moment after that, he made it his mission to push you over the edge for the second time. This time, his fingers didn’t go anywhere close to your clit. You knew what he wanted to do, he really was trying to get you high with his cock only–trying to really make you lose your mind and your brain empty. Which he succeeded as he always did.

It didn’t stop there. After the first round, he carefully lifted you up in his arms and took you to the living room, telling you to wait on the couch while he went to the bathroom to prepare the bath. He didn’t leave you there without leaving a kiss on your forehead and a ‘wait for me, babe’.

You loved how he always took such good care of you after every round of sex. It felt like a routine, and he knew where you put everything that he needs to use. He knew where you put your spare towels, the bath bombs that you liked so much, and he knew how you liked being taken care of.

Silence enveloped the room as you sat on the bathtub and leaned back, leaning your body on his chest. You were still catching your breath, but Wonwoo decided to play once more–his fingers playing with your nipples and his other hand making its way down, shoving two fingers inside of you and massaging that one spot that made you clench around him.

“Ah, Won– Wonwoo, please no.” You couldn’t stop writhing under his hold, the action causing water to ripple and topple over out of the bathtub.

“Shh, it’s okay, babe. One more, okay? One more, I know you can.” And really, you could, although this one was a bit weaker and it left you feeling boneless and breathless. Not to mention the feeling of Wonwoo’s lips on your ear, the way he kept giving you praises could lull you to sleep.

It was a blur how he managed to clean you thoroughly, dressed you in your warm pajamas, and left you on your bed while he showered. You couldn’t really remember everything he did after the both of you were done, but you could perfectly memorize the way he took over the empty spot next to you and slung his arm over your waist as you drifted deeply to the dreamland.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios

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oscopelabs · 3 years

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Isn’t Everything Autobiographical?: Ethan Hawke In Nine Films And A Novel by Marya Gates

When asked during his first ever on-camera interview if he’d like to continue acting, a young Ethan Hawke replied, “I don’t know if it’s going to be there, but I’d like to do it.” He then gives a guileless shrug of relief as the interview ends, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. The simultaneous fusion of his nervous energy and poised body language will be familiar to those who’ve seen later interviews with the actor. The practicality and wisdom he exudes at such a young age would prove to be a through-line of his nearly 40-year career. In an interview many decades later, he told Ideas Tap that many children get into acting because they’re seeking attention, but those who find their calling in the craft discover that a “desire to communicate and to share and to be a part of something bigger than yourself takes over, a certain craftsmanship—and that will bring you a lot of pleasure.”

Through Hawke’s dedication to his craft, we’ve also seen his maturation as a person unfold on screen. Though none of his roles are traditionally what we think of when we think of autobiography, many of Hawke’s roles, as well as his work as a writer, suggest a sort of fictional autobiographical lineage. While these highlights in his career are not strictly autofiction, one can trace Hawke’s Künstlerromanesque trajectory from his childhood ambitions to his life now as a man dedicated to art, not greatness.

Hawke’s first two films, Joe Dante’s sci-fi fantasy Explorers with River Phoenix and Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society with Robin Williams, set the tone for a diverse filmography filled with popcorn fare and indie cinema in equal measure, but they also served as touchstones in his development as person drawn to self-expression through art. In an interview with Rolling Stone’s David Fear, Hawke spoke about the impact of these two films on him as an actor. When River Phoenix, his friend and co-star in Explorers, had his life cut short by a drug overdose, it hit Hawke personally. He saw from the inside what Hollywood was capable of doing to young people with talent. Hawke never attempted to break out, to become a star. He did the work he loved and kept the wild Hollywood lifestyle mostly at arm’s length.

Like any good film of this genre, Dead Poets Society is not just a film about characters coming of age, but a film that guides the viewer as well, if they are open to its message. Hawke’s performance as repressed schoolboy Todd in the film is mostly internal, all reactions and penetrating glances, rather than grandiose movements or speeches. Through his nervy body language and searching gaze, you can feel both how closed off to the world Todd is, and yet how willing he is to let change in. Hawke has said working on this film taught him that art has a real power, that it can affect people deeply. This ethos permeates many of the characters Hawke has inhabited in his career.

In Dead Poets Society, Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) tells the boys that we read and write poetry because the human race is full of passion. He insists, “poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.” Hawke gave a 2020 TEDTalk entitled Give Yourself Permission To Be Creative, in which he explored what it means to be creative, pushing viewers to ask themselves if they think human creativity matters. In response to his own question, he said “Most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about poetry, right? They have a life to live and they’re not really that concerned with Allen Ginsberg’s poems, or anybody’s poems, until their father dies, they go to a funeral, you lose a child, somebody breaks your heart, they don’t love you anymore, and all of the sudden you’re desperate for making sense out of this life and ‘has anyone ever felt this bad before? How did they come out of this cloud?’ Or the inverse, something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes. You love them so much, you can’t even see straight, you know, you’re dizzy. ‘Did anybody feel like this before? What is happening to me?’ And that’s when art is not a luxury. It’s actually sustenance. We need it.”

Throughout many of his roles post-Dead Poets Society, Hawke explores the nature of creativity through his embodiment of writers and musicians. Often these characters are searching for a greater purpose through art, while ultimately finding that human connection is the key. Without that human connection, their art is nothing.

We see the first germ of this attraction to portray creative people on screen with his performance as Troy Dyer in Reality Bites. As Troy Dyer, a philosophy-spouting college dropout turned grunge-band frontman in Reality Bites, Hawke was posited as a Gen-X hero. His inability to keep a job and his musician lifestyle were held in stark contrast to Ben Stiller’s yuppie TV exec Michael Grates. However in true slacker spirit, he isn’t actually committed to the art of music, often missing rehearsals, as Lelaina points out. Troy even uses his music at one point to humiliate Lelaina, dedicating a rendition of “Add It Up” by Violent Femmes to her. The lyrics add insult to injury as earlier that day he snuck out of her room after the two had sex for the first time. Troy’s lack of commitment to his music matches his inability to commit to those relationships in his life that mean the most to him.

Reality Bites is also where he first positioned himself as one of the great orators of modern cinema.” Take this early monologue, in which he outlines his beliefs to Winona Ryder’s would-be documentarian Lelaina Pierce: “There’s no point to any of this. It’s all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know, a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle, and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.”

Hawke brings the same intense gaze to this performance as he did to Dead Poets Society, as if his eyes could swallow the world whole. But where Todd’s body language was walled-off, Troy’s is loud and boisterous. He’s quick to see the faults of those around him, but also the good things the world has to offer. It’s a pretty honest depiction of how self-centered your early-20s tend to be, where riding your own melt seems like the best option. As the film progresses, Troy lets others in, saying to Lelaina, “This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You, me and five bucks.”

Like the character, Hawke was in his early twenties and as he would continue to philosophize through other characters, they would age along with him and so would their takes on the world. If you only engage with anyone at one phase in their life, you do a disservice to the arc of human existence. We have the ability to grow and change as we learn who we are and become less self-centered. In Hawke’s career, there’s no better example of this than his multi-film turn as Jesse in the Before Trilogy. While the creation of Jesse and Celine are credited to writer-director Richard Linklater and his writing partner Kim Krizan, much of what made it to the screen even as early as the first film were filtered through the life experiences of Hawke and his co-star Julie Delpy.

In a Q&A with Jess Walter promoting his most recent novel A Bright Ray of Darkness, Hawke said that Jesse from the Before Trilogy is like an alt-universe version of himself, and through them we can see the self-awareness and curiosity present in the early ET interview grow into the the kind of man Keating from Dead Poets Society urged his students to become.

In Before Sunrise, Hawke’s Jesse is roughly the same age as Troy in Reality Bites, and as such is still in a narcissistic phase of his life. After spending several romantic hours with Celine in Vienna, the two share their thoughts about relationships. Celine says she wants to be her own person, but that she also desperately wants to love and be loved. Jesse shares this monologue, “Sometimes I dream about being a good father and a good husband. And sometimes it feels really close. But then other times it seems silly, like it would ruin my whole life. And it’s not just a fear of commitment or that I’m incapable of caring or loving because. . . I can. It’s just that, if I’m totally honest with myself, I think I’d rather die knowing that I was really good at something. That I had excelled in some way than that I’d just been in a nice, caring relationship.”

The film ends without the audience knowing if Jesse and Celine ever see each other again. That initial shock is unfortunately now not quite as impactful if you are aware of the sequels. But I think it is an astute look at two people who meet when they are still discovering who they are. Still growing. Jesse, at least, is definitely not ready for any kind of commitment. Then of course, we find out in Before Sunset that he’s fumbled his way into marriage and fatherhood, and while he’s excelling at the latter, he’s failing at the former.

As in Reality Bites, Hawke explores the dynamics of band life again in Before Sunset, when Jesse recalls to Celine how he was in a band, but they were too obsessed with getting a deal to truly enjoy the process of making music. He says to her, “You know, it's all we talked about, it was all we thought about, getting bigger shows, and everything was just...focused on the future, all the time. And now, the band doesn't even exist anymore, right? And looking back at the... at the shows we did play, even rehearsing... You know, it was just so much fun! Now I'd be able to enjoy every minute of it.”

The filming of Before Sunset happened to coincide with the dissolution of Hawke’s first marriage. And while these films are not autobiographical, everyone involved have stated that they’ve added personal elements to their characters. They even poke fun at it in the opening scene when a journalist asks how autobiographical Jesse’s novel is. True to form, he responds with a monologue, “Well, I mean, isn’t everything autobiographical? I mean, we all see the world through our own tiny keyhole, right? I mean, I always think of Thomas Wolfe, you know. Have you ever seen that little one page note to reader in the front of Look Homeward, Angel, right? You know what I'm talking about? Anyway, he says that we are the sum of all the moments of our lives, and that, anybody who sits down to write is gonna use the clay of their own life, that you can’t avoid that.”

While Before Sunset was shot in 2003, released in 2004 and this monologue refers to the fictional book within the trilogy entitled This Time, Hawke would take this same approach more than a decade later with his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness.

In the novel, Hawke crafts a quasi-autobiographical story, using his experience in theater to work through the perspective he now has on his failed marriage to Uma Thurman. Much like Jesse in Before Sunset, Hawke is reluctant to call the book autobiographical, but the parallels to his own divorce are evident. And as Jesse paraphrased Wolfe, isn’t everything we do autobiographical? In the book, movie star William Harding has blown up his seemingly picture-perfect marriage with a pop star by having an affair while filming on location in South Africa. The book, structured in scenes and acts like a play, follows the aftermath as he navigates his impending divorce, his relationship with his small children, and his performance as Hotspur in a production of Henry IV on Broadway.

Throughout much of the novel, William looks back at the mistakes he made that led to the breakup of his marriage. He’s now in his 30s and has the clarity to see how selfish he was in his 20s. Hawke, however, was in his forties while writing the book. Through the layers of hindsight, you can feel how Hawke has processed not just the painful emotional growth spurt of his 20s, but also the way he can now mine the wisdom that comes from true reflection. Still, as steeped as the novel is in self-reflection, it does not claim to have all the answers. In fact, it offers William, as well as the readers, more questions to contemplate than it does answers.

The wisdom to know that you will never quite understand everything is broached by Hawke early in the third film in the Before Trilogy, 2013’s Before Midnight. At this point in their love story, Jesse’s marriage has ended and he and Celine are parents to twin girls. Jesse has released two more books: That Time, which recounts the events of the previous film, and Temporary Cast Members of a Long-Running But Little Seen Production of a Play Called Fleeting. Before Midnight breaks the bewitching spell of the first two films by adding more cast members and showing the friction that comes with an attempt to grow old with someone. When discussing his three books, a young man says the title of his third is too long, Jesse says it wasn’t as well loved, and an older professor friend says it’s his best book because it’s more ambitious. It seems Linklater and company already knew how the departure of this third film might be regarded by fans. But it is this very departure that shows their commitment to honestly showing the passage of time and our relationship to it.

About halfway through the film Jesse and Celine depart the Greek villa where they have been spending the summer, and we finally get a one-on-one conversation like we’re used to with these films. In one exchange, I feel they summarize the point of the entire trilogy, and possibly Hawke’s entire ethos:

Jesse: Every year, I just seem to get a little bit more humbled and more overwhelmed about all the things I’m never going to know or understand.

Celine: That’s what I keep telling you. You know nothing!

Jesse: I know, I know! I'm coming around!

[Celine and Jesse laugh.]

Celine: But not knowing is not so bad. I mean, the point is to be looking, searching. To stay hungry, right?

Throughout the series, Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke explore what they call the “transient nature of everything.” Jesse says his books are less about time and more about perception. It’s the rare person who can assess themselves or the world around them acutely in the present. For most of us, it takes time and self-reflection to come to any sort of understanding about our own nature. Before Midnight asks us to look back at the first two films with honesty, to remove the romantic lens with which they first appeared to us. It asks us to reevaluate what romance even truly is.

Hawke explores this same concept again in the 2018 romantic comedy Juliet, Naked. In this adaptation of the 2009 Nick Hornby novel, Hawke plays a washed-up singer-songwriter named Tucker Crowe. He had a big hit album, Juliet, in the early ‘90s and then disappeared into obscurity. Rose Bryne plays a woman named Annie whose longtime boyfriend Duncan is obsessed with the singer and the album, stuck on the way the bummer songs about a bad breakup make him feel. As the film begins, Annie reveals that she thinks she’s wasted 15 years of her life with this schmuck. This being a rom-com, we know that Hawke and Byrne’s characters will eventually meet-cute. What’s so revelatory about the film is its raw depiction of how hard it is for many to reassess who they really are later in life.

Duncan is stuck as the self-obsessed, self-pitying person he likely was when Annie first met him, but she reveals he was so unlike anyone else in her remote town that she looked the other way for far too long. Now it’s almost too late. By chance, she connects with Crowe and finds a different kind of man.

See, when Crowe wrote Juliet, he also was a navel-gazing twentysomething whose emotional development had not yet reached the point of being able to see both sides in a romantic entanglement. He worked through his heartbreak through art, and though it spoke to other people, he didn’t think about the woman or her feelings on the subject. In a way, Crowe’s music sounds a bit like what Reality Bites’s Troy Dyer may have written, if he ever had the drive to actually work at his music. Eventually, it’s revealed that Crowe walked away from it all when Julie, the woman who broke his heart, confronted him with their child—something he was well aware of, but from which he had been running away. Faced with the harsh reality of his actions and the ramifications they had on the world beyond his own feelings, he ran even farther away from responsibility. In telling the story to Annie, he says, “I couldn’t play any of those songs anymore, you know? After that, I just... I couldn’t play these insipid, self-pitying songs about Julie breaking my heart. You know, they were a joke. And before I know it, a couple of decades have gone by and some doctor hands me... hands me Jackson. I hold him, you know, and I look at him. And I know that this boy. . . is my last chance.”

When we first meet Crowe, he’s now dedicated his life to raising his youngest son, having at this point messed up with four previous children. The many facets of parenthood is something that shows up in Hawke’s later body of work many times, in projects as wholly different as Brooklyn’s Finest, Before Midnight, Boyhood, Maggie’s Plan, First Reformed, and even his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness. In each of these projects, decisions made by Hawke’s characters have a big impact on their children’s lives. These films explore the financial pressures of parenthood, the quirks of blended families, the impact of absent fathers, and even the tragedy of a father’s wishes acquiesced without question. Hawke’s take on parenthood is that of flawed men always striving to overcome the worst of themselves for the betterment of the next generation, often with mixed results.

Where Juliet, Naked showed a potential arc of redemption for a father gone astray, First Reformed paints a bleaker portrait. Hawke plays Pastor Toller, a man of the cloth struggling with his own faith who attempts to counsel an environmental activist whose impending fatherhood has driven him to suicidal despair. Toller himself is struggling under the weight of fatherhood, believing he sent his own son to die a needless death in a morally bankrupt war. Sharing the story, he says “My father taught at VMI. I encouraged my son to enlist. It was the family tradition. Like his father, his grandfather. Patriotic tradition. My wife was very opposed. But he enlisted against her wishes. . . . Six months later he was killed in Iraq. There was no moral justification for this conflict. My wife could not live with me after that. Who could blame her? I left the military. Reverend Jeffers at Abundant Life Church heard about my situation. They offered me a position at First Reformed. And here I am.” How do we carry the weight of actions that affect lives that are not even our own?

If Peter Weir set the father figure template in Dead Poets Society, and Paul Schrader explored the consequences of direct parental influence on their children’s lives, director Richard Linklater subverts the idea of a mentor-guide in Boyhood, showing both parents are as lost as the kid himself. When young Mason (Ellar Coltrane) asks his dad (Hawke) what’s the point of everything, his reply is “I sure as shit don’t know. Nobody does. We’re all just winging it.” As the film ends, Mason sits atop a mountain with a new friend he’s made in the dorms discussing time. She says that everyone is always talking about seize the moment—carpe diem!—but she thinks it’s the other way around. That the moments seize us. In Reality Bites, Troy gets annoyed at Lelaina’s constant need to “memorex” everything with her camcorder, yet Boyhood is a film about capturing a life over a 12-year period. The Before Trilogy checks in on Jesse and Celine every nine years. Hawke’s entire career. in fact, has captured his growth from an awkward teen to a prolific artist and devoted father, a master of his craft and philosopher at heart.

#ethan hawke #boyhood #before trilogy #before midnight #before sunset #before sunrise #reality bites #first reformed #dead poets society #a bright ray of darkness #film writing #film essay #musings #oscilloscope laboratories

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saintobio · 4 years

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love, always.

↳ oikawa tooru x f!reader

(setting — post time skip. may contain spoilers.)

description: 3 years since the accident and you’ve regained most of your memories back, but there’s still one missing puzzle piece that only your boyfriend’s best friend can complete. the question is, will you let him?

genre: angst, past lovers, amnesia

a/n: my tooru mini-fic is here yay! hope u guys enjoy this one as much as remember, forever.

masterlist

It’s you and me...

Just the two us...

Your fingers flicked as you heard those words from the back your mind. The soft, manly voice came from someone you haven’t heard before and it left you puzzled. You just couldn’t pinpoint whose voice it was from.

Your breathing was slow and deep as you searched through your faded memories.

“Try not to move please,” your doctor spoke through the intercom while you kept your eyes shut. “Stay still so we can finish the CT scan.”

Right. Well, being inside the scanner made you anxious. Lying completely still during an MRI was important but you really couldn’t keep yourself from moving even just a little. All the buzzing and whirring noises felt uncomfortable to your ears—it was like a constant state of being inside a kaleidoscope of nothingness.

You tried to relax your mind and body as the scan went on for the next 20 minutes or so.

It has been 3 years since the accident and you’ve managed to recover through a series of physical and occupational therapy, lots of hypnosis and monthly evaluations. It was a long journey.

As for your memories, they were still there. The doctor said that you may temporarily lose your memories, but not your skills. You did your best to diligently follow all the therapies and sessions that you had to go through just so you could return back to your normal self.

Everything was stored in your head gradually, but it left one piece missing from the puzzle and you couldn’t figure out what it was.

You and me...

“Hold your breath for ten seconds, please.” You once again heard the doctor’s voice from the intercom and did as followed.

You sighed. You wanted nothing but for this to be over with.

———————————————————————

“How are you feeling?” was the first thing Dr. Maeda asked the moment you sat on the chair.

You responded with a brief smile. “I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Any headaches?” he inquired. “Or any sharp pain on the back of your head?”

“None so far,” you answered, recalling the past few days.

The doctor nodded his head in relief. “Okay. Based from your MRI, it seems that you’re showing signs of improvement,” he spoke. “Most patients with retrograde amnesia take years to fully recover, but in severe cases they don’t, so we’re very lucky to see progress in your case.”

You swallowed, looking hopeful. “But I’ll still get my full memories back, right? If I keep trying... I’ll get them back, right?”

“What’s important is we don’t force them out of you,” the doctor explained. “The way the brain recalls memories is dynamic. When people remember an event, they reconstruct it, pulling bits from different places in the brain. No memory, traumatic or otherwise, is ever frozen and immune from reconstruction over time.”

You let out a sigh and accepted that your memories really wouldn’t come back overnight. That was what therapies were made for, anyway. You were already happy with your life now and everyone around you were saying that you’ve gotten so much better for the past 3 years.

Most of your memories have returned and they all told you that the remaining empty pieces weren’t really important to remember.

But, somehow, it just felt like a huge part of you was still incomplete.

———————————————————————

After your visit to the doctor, you were very keen to see your boyfriend again since you stayed at your parent’s house for the weekend. That was why you took the initiative to visit him at the training center where he worked at.

You felt nothing but excitement as soon as you saw him at the hallway while he was talking to another man.

Just the mere sight of him made your heart jump in joy.

“Baby!” you called, happily running to your boyfriend.

He looked surprised, almost stunned, but managed to catch you in his arms for a warm hug. “Woah there! You didn’t say you were coming?”

You grinned and gave him a quick peck. “I wanted to surprise you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, beautiful,” Iwaizumi told you before placing another kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away, you noticed the handsome man standing next to him and you couldn’t recall the guy being part of the national team.

He was tall with tousled brown hair and a gentle face that looked like an angel. Thin lips, chiseled jaws, stunning brown eyes. This was the first time you have seen him but your heart was thumping loud for some reason.

He looked at you with eyes full of messages that you couldn’t discern. Was he about to cry? Was he glad to see you? You couldn’t read his mind, but the only thing you knew was that he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of you.

He blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and froze on his spot. He looked confused and in pain simultaneously which you didn’t understand why.

“Uh, hey,” you spoke, offering your hand out of courtesy. “I’m—”

“I know you,” he cut off, swallowing hard. He took your hand and touched it as if he didn’t want to let go. “I’m Tooru Oikawa.”

Tooru Oikawa.

You stared at his eyes and felt a rush of electricity running through your veins. His name sounded familiar but you had no idea where you’ve heard it before.

You didn’t even realize that the two of you shared the longest gaze on each other until Iwaizumi cleared his throat.

You pulled your hand away and moved closer to your boyfriend. “Nice to meet you.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi glanced at each other for a moment. You noticed that there was some kind of tension suddenly filling the air.

Did you do something wrong?

“Babe, he’s, uh, the guy I told you about,” your boyfriend introduced, holding your waist protectively. “The one who moved to Argentina.”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, your childhood best friend?” You beamed at the guy again. “So nice to see you here, Tooru.”

Oikawa seemed to have felt a million things after you said his name and you wondered if you also shared memories with this person. But the thing was, if he was really important to you then Iwaizumi would have told you by now.

“Nice to see you, too,” he responded, forcing a smile.

Before the conversation could continue, you saw Kiyoomi Sakusa peeking from the gymnasium’s entrance as he called for their trainer. “We’re done with the drills,” he informed Iwaizumi.

Hajime nodded his head before turning to you. “I have to go. I’ll see you after an hour?”

“Sure.” You nodded understandingly, kissing him one last time. “I’ll head to the cafe and wait for you there.”

Your boyfriend patted Oikawa’s back and gave him a certain wary look that only the two of them could understand before he finally went back inside the gymnasium.

Just then, you were left alone with a stranger you barely knew but it somehow didn’t feel uncomfortable. You felt safe being next to this person despite not really knowing him.

“Do you...” he trailed, looking nervous. “Do you wanna grab some coffee?”

You smiled at his offer. “I’d love to.”

———————————————————————

From what you’ve heard, Oikawa was a fun, outgoing guy. Your boyfriend told you before that the guy was very loud and more often flippant and flirtatious. That had been his personality since they were kids—he was always the center of attention in and out of the court.

However, the Oikawa in front of you now was the complete opposite. He seemed too quiet and timid, like he felt awkward.

When he came back to your table after picking up your order, he carefully placed your favorite coffee on your table.

He asked you earlier if there was any specific coffee you liked because it was his treat, but since you felt shy, you told him anything would do.

And you were incredibly surprised that he was able to get you your favorite coffee.

Not even Iwaizumi could have guessed it.

“How’d you know I like Vanilla Sweet Cream?” you asked, watching him settle on his seat. “Cold Brew at that.”

Although a smile was displayed on his lips, he wasn’t looking into your eyes. “Just a lucky guess.”

“Well, thanks for the coffee.” You simply smiled in appreciation and didn’t say anything else.

Rain started pouring as you turned to stare outside. Despite the sudden bad weather, it was actually perfect for the ambiance of the cafe. Soft, jazz music was playing from the background and the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted your nose.

It felt like you’ve been in this exact situation before. Like déjà vu.

“What made you return to Japan?” you asked, looking back at Tooru in attempt to start a conversation.

His fingers tapped the mug with a reserved expression.

You noticed that he had milk bread in front of him, but wasn’t keen to eat it. “SA League’s over so I plan to stay here for a couple of months before I leave again.”

“That’s nice.” You nodded and took a sip from your coffee. “You probably miss Japan so much.”

His eyes met yours again, but this time he looked like he was holding his emotions together. “How’s... How’s everything for you?”

You didn’t really know what specific details he knew about you so you had no idea where to start. Even more, something about this encounter just felt nostalgic and you were getting antsy about it.

You decided to tell the basic story that everyone knew. “I got into a car accident three years ago and lost some of my memories, but it seems like most of it has returned now. I’ve been told that my recovery is going very smoothly.”

Oikawa held his breath and seemed like he wanted to say something but chose not to.

As a result, you two averted your gaze and drank from your own cups. Heck, the awkward air was killing you.

“You’re dating Iwa-chan, huh?” he asked, as if he hasn’t heard about it before. It was odd because he should’ve known that his best friend was dating you.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling fondly. “He’s the best boyfriend I could ever wish for.”

His adam’s apple rose briefly.

“A-Are you happy with him?” he suddenly asked, causing you to look up at him in curiosity.

You nodded without hesitation. “Very. He’s been there for me since I woke up from the accident. He helped me get better every single day and then, one day we just fell in love.”

Oikawa’s eyes shined as he stared at you. “I’m glad.”

You kept your gaze locked with his and felt your heartbeat falling out of its normal rhythm. Even though he smiled at you, why did it look empty?

“Tooru...”

“Mm?”

“Have we met before?”

The expression on his face told you he would have said yes and that he would have said how and where you two have first met, but his only reply was,

“No.”

Maybe you just really felt like you knew him because he was Iwa’s best friend after all. Maybe there wasn’t anything special to remember about Oikawa because, as he said, you two have never met prior to this.

You didn’t share any significant memories with him.

You were just two strangers sitting at a cafe making new memories of each other.

Nothing more, nothing less.

#tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa angst #hq oikawa #oikawa fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic

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hyunjilicious · 4 years

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what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips.

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated.

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it.

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did.

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy.

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-"

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer.

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat.

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass.

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today.

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C."

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive.

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue.

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed.

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room.

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep.

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him.

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this.

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before.

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles.

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going.

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower.

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't.

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight.

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face.

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you.

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle.

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit.

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back.

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features.

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch.

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears.

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again.

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him.

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?"

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?"

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end.

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left.

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes.

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck"

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you.

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known.

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy.

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you.

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

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sour--disposition · 4 years

Text

Promise

Part One, Part Two

callum airey x fem!reader

Once the last box was finally emptied, you flopped back onto your bed with a sigh. With starting a new job and moving house in the same week, it took longer than you’d have liked to unpack the small amount of stuff you had, but your attention was constantly being diverted elsewhere.

Speaking of. “Hi”, you smiled when you answered the FaceTime call from Cal.

“Hey, angel”, he beamed. “Have you finished unpacking yet?”, he asked.

“Yep, just got the last box emptied and folded up ready to go to the recycling”, you told him happily.

You and Cal FaceTimed every night, if not more. He had been a godsend, helping you move out of Freya and Josh’s and get the stuff that you had moved into storage when you moved out of student housing. The conversation that you’d had with Josh and Freya kept playing on your mind, especially when you realised that you and Cal had developed a sort of routine to speak to each other as often as possible.

“What are you thinking about?”, Cal asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Nothing”, you hummed, already feeling the blush creeping up your face to betray you.

“That’s not a ‘nothing’ blush, missy”, Cal chastised cheekily. You rolled your eyes at him, sending him a playful glare. There was no doubt in your mind that Cal had at least some idea as to what you were thinking about, he was just insistent on making you blush and splutter. “What’s up?”, he asked, voice soft but serious this time.

“Does it make me a bad person that I’m already thinking about someone else?”, you asked him.

“No”, he said bluntly. “There’s no strict time scale on that sort of thing, love. None of us are gonna think any less of you for anything that you do, as long as you are doing it because it makes you happy”.

The conversation went silent for a moment as you thought over what he had just said. “Who’s the lucky guy, then?”, Cal asked. You rolled your eyes at him again.

“I don’t know if you know him”.

Cal quite quickly changed the direction of the conversation after that. You were on FaceTime with him for another hour or so before you hung up, both needing to go and eat something for dinner.

You had a shower and changed into some comfier clothes before heading for the kitchen to have a rummage around in the cupboards to see what you could make. Just as you’d put some pasta on to boil, there was a knock at your door.

“Cal?”, you asked, surprised to see the tall boy outside your front door. You turned around to walk back into the kitchen and living area, indicating for him to follow you. “What are you doing here?”.

“Is it me?”, he asked, blurted out at you. He looked like he’d been running his hands through his hair ever since you finished your call, strands sticking up at weird angles compared to the smooth look it had just an hour ago. “I just - Is it me, Y/N?”, he all but pleaded this time.

You looked at him and he looked at you. You could feel and hear the blood rushing through your body, pounding around your ears in panic. Saying the wrong thing, either way, could ruin everything. You couldn’t lose Cal, not for anything.

“Yes”.

Cal’s face finally relaxed into a soft smile. He came over to you, engulfing you in his arms and holding you tight. You buried your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”, you asked, voice muffled by the tight space of Cal’s chest and the bunched up fabric of his jumper.

“I’d love to”, he whispered into your hair, dropping a kiss there shortly after.

That night, after you’d eaten, you and Cal sat snuggled up on the sofa. His arm was draped around your back, resting on your ribcage, and your head was pillowed on his shoulder. “I know it might be stupid to say”, Cal started, voice low, “But I won’t do what he did”. He felt you tense up and, in return, held you a little bit closer and a little bit tighter.

“I need this to go at my pace at the moment, is that okay?”, you asked, voice soft and slightly watery.

“I’ve liked you since I first met you, Y/N. I’ll do anything if it means I get to do this”, he hummed. You lifted your head to face Cal properly, your eyes darting to his lips and his to yours. You nodded your head softly, letting him know it was okay.

Cal leaned forward, using his free hand to move a piece of hair behind your ear, leaving his hand on the side of your face. The kiss was soft, gentle and said everything that both of you needed to say but couldn’t find the words for. When he pulled back slightly, Cal rested his forehead against yours, a large grin breaking across his face. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, letting your head drop down to his shoulder.

Two weeks later, you were finally getting ready for the night that you had planned back when you were still living with Freya and Josh. You were a bit apprehensive about the night, because it had ended up being hosted at Harry and Cal’s place and Harry couldn’t not be invited to a party in his own house. It was inevitable that you were going to see him, but you just had to focus on seeing Cal and your friends and having fun after a tricky couple of months moving and an even harder few months before that.

You had about 20 minutes before everyone would be arriving at the party and you still had to find something to wear. You were stood in front of your wardrobe looking at the dresses you had hung up, but none of them were right. You rifled through them, hoping something, anything, would come to you.

Your hands landed on a black, v-necked mini dress with puffy sleeves. You pulled it off the hanger, smiling when you remembered Cal pulling it out of the box and sticking it on a hanger, making a comment about how good he bet you looked in it.

You wiggled it on, pairing it with some metallic gold heels and gold jewellery. By the time you’d given the floor a quick tidy and stuffed the belongings into your black clutch, you knew you would be at least 5 minutes late.

You ordered an Uber as you walked towards the lift, firing a text off to Cal to apologise and letting him know when to expect you. You were only waiting outside for a minute or so before the silver car pulled up in front of you. You spent the short the trip replying to texts in the girls group-chat and scrolling through your various social medias.

“Thank you so much”, you smiled to the driver before sliding out of the back of the car and walking into the main reception of the apartment building. You hit the button for Cal’s floor, pulling out your phone again to let him know you were almost there.

You could hear the music all the way from the lift, the low bass filled the hallway and indiscernible lyrics bounced from the walls. The thought of knocking on the door briefly crossed your mind, before you realised how stupid it would be. You’d be surprised if people could hear each other speak in there, let alone a knock on the door.

There were already quite a few people there, despite you only being 5 or 10 minutes late. You spotted Cal with his side facing your direction, talking to a group of the guys. You walked over, a smile settling itself on your face as you approached him. Cal looked shocked when he felt you position yourself under his arm, but he quickly relaxed once he realised it was you.

“It’s the dress”, he smiled, leaning back slightly to take in your whole appearance. “You look beautiful”, he told you, shifting his arm to sit on your hip and leaning over to drop a sweet peck to your temple. You blushed, looking around at Simon, Josh and Ethan. None of them looked surprised at what they saw.

“I’m happy for you”, Josh smiled. Conversation quickly recommenced, though, Cal eager not to put too much focus on you.

You dipped away shortly after to get a drink and find the girls. You were chatting happily with them, sipping on your drink when Cal came up to you. Freya wiggled her eyebrows at you in the least subtle way possible. You rolled your eyes playfully, turning to face Cal. Before you could ask what he wanted, he took his hand in yours. “Come dance with me?”, he asked. You smiled and nodded, knocking back the rest of your drink so that you could leave your cup on the side and go and dance with Cal.

Cal held you close against his body and moved the two of you slowly side to side, neither of you not really knowing how to dance properly. You were giggling at the stupidity that Cal was whispering into you ear as his breath tickled your neck. You reached up on your tip-toes, even though that still didn’t bridge the gap between the two of you. Cal took pity on your struggle and dipped his head to press his lips to yours. Before anything could even think about progressing further, you were interrupted by a sharp shout.

“What the fuck!?”.

Harry was livid. He’d turned around from the makeshift bar to go and return to his friends when he was greeted with the sight of one of his best friends all over his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.

You turned around in Cal’s arms to face an angry Harry. If you weren’t wrong, he was angrier now than the night that you broke up. It was written all over his face, burned into his eyes. You reached for Cal’s hand, taking a couple of steps backwards, behind Cal’s looming frame.

“Harry”, Cal warned, voice low, as he reached out behind his back to find you.

“Don’t Harry me”, he spat. “I bet you just couldn’t wait to jump into her bed, huh?”, he accused. “And you, telling me you didn’t cheat”, he scoffed. It ignited a flame inside of you, burning raw with anger.

“Outside. Now”, you instructed. You wiggled your hand out of Cal’s, despite him and the girls trying to hold you back. “Let me go, I’ll be okay”, you promised him, voice much softer.

The harsh wind ruffled the sleeves of your dress as you waited on the balcony for Harry. You noticed that the music had been turned off and even though you had left the living area, the attention was still turned to you through the glass doors of the balcony.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”, you asked Harry the minute he’d stepped outside. “Who on Earth gave you the right to comment on my life anymore?”.

“You were kissing my best friend right in front of my face!”, Harry snapped.

“And!? I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Harry!”, you exclaimed.

“Did you have to do it in front of my face? No. You chose to, selfish bitch”, he muttered. If looks could kill, Harry would be little more than dust blowing away in the wind about now.

“No, you’re the selfish bitch. I’m done taking your shit, I was done taking your shit the minute you decided we were through!”.

“You’re the one that left me, remember? Or did you forget that when you started fucking my best friend?”, Harry accused. You rolled your eyes, not bothered to correct him on his inaccuracies about you and Cal.

“No, Harry. I left, but you decided we were through when you went behind my back, shagged God knows how many other girls and then had the fucking audacity to blame me for it”, you exclaimed, voice rising with anger. You watched as Harry tried to process what you said and tried to find the words to bite back with something just as angry and just as hurtful.

“I feel like shit for what I did, Y/N”, Harry sighed, finally losing the attitude and anger. He took a step towards you, hand reaching out. “I was hoping to see you tonight, to see if we could try and make this work. I know what you said... but I was hoping you might’ve changed your mind now that you’ve had time to think about it”, Harry said, voice low but hopeful.

“Harry, I spent 3 months locked away in one of your best friends’ spare rooms because I couldn’t function on my own. You broke me. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. If it wasn’t for Josh and Freya and the girls, I don’t think I’d have seen the other side of those 3 months. I didn’t move to London so we could try this again”, you said, gesturing between the two of you. “I moved to London because some of my best friends live here. I have a job and my own flat and I’m happy now. Can you please, please try, not to ruin this? Because I won’t let you, not again”.

“But... Freezy?”, Harry asked, voice weighed down with defeat.

“I don’t owe you an explanation”, you told him firmly. “Whatever Cal wants to tell you as his best friend is between you and Cal, but...”, you trailed off. “I’ll be civil as long as you are, you know I will, but that’s the most you’re ever going to get from me, which is a hell of a lot more than you deserve”, you said, voice holding a sense of finality that Harry was sensible enough to pick up on and respect.

You heard the doors slide open and closed as Harry left you alone. You walked over to the edge of the terrace, leaning your arms against the railings as you let out a long, deep breath. You bent over to remove your shoes, sighing as your bare feet hit the cold floor. You heard the doors slide open and closed again and you prayed to anyone that would listen that it wasn’t Harry.

“You didn’t come back in”, Cal said, walking over with a hoodie of his in his hand. “Put this on, you’re shivering”, he told you. He helped you into the jumper, careful not to smudge any of your make up. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah, I think”, you replied, bundling the excess sleeves into your hands. “Can I have a hug and just stay here for a bit?”, you asked, looking up at Cal through your eyelashes. Cal let out a soft laugh, coming closer to wrap you up in his arms.

You maneuvered yourself so that you could still see the lights and the skyline, letting your head rest against Cal’s chest once you were happy with your position. “I know you’ve said it already”, you whispered quietly. “But please, don’t do what Harry did. If things are ever bad, just speak to me, okay?”, you pleaded.

You felt Cal nod his head on top of yours, shifting to kiss your forehead and hairline.

“I promise, angel”.

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