#microwaved polaroid

[dtfpeta]

‘09 ghost has been on my mind lately. I just see him as such a domestic man and doting lover! Very chivalrous and a “That’s my wife!” mentality fs.

Wouldn’t forgive himself if you were to open your own passenger door after a date, and prior to that he was practically leaping over the hood of the car to open the door before you got out. Tsking at you as he takes your hand and walks you to the entrance of y’all’s favorite chain restaurant because you best believe he’s splurging with an appetizer and dessert. “Anythin’ for my girl” he’d smile.

And on the very rare occasion that he has the day off but you’re the one stuck at work, your stress almost instantly vanishes when an assault of lemon scented cleaner and bleach fills your senses. Ghost definitely enjoys wearing the pants in the relationship but damn does he take the role of malewife seriously. The house would be cleaned from head to toe, a stick of incense burning (because he appreciates their stress reducing aroma), and burgers resting in the microwave. Because if he's one thing but a lovestruck man it's the king of the grill.

And when he's on deployment during the cold, dead of night- the thoughts he procures of you barely hold a flame to the actual warmth you could provide him. The cheesily posed polaroid of you he begged to take burns a hole in his pocket and his hands claw to retrieve it. A pining sigh being breathed from him as his palm comes to rub at his brow. Finally, he begins to warm up now that his thoughts are plagued of you and how he can spoil you when he gets back home.

[luv4freddie]

Polaroid Love - F.W

Fred goes to work with his father and comes home with a muggle Polaroid camera, deciding the best use of it would be to take horrendous pictures of his girlfriend.

Fred x fem!Muggleborn reader, established relationship, reader gets red, house and age not specific, tooth rotting fluff bc I love lovesick Fred, 1.2 k words

Being a muggleborn at the Weasley household was an experience, to say the least.

In the last week since you’ve been at the Burrow, you’ve explained what rubber ducks are for, how to operate a microwave, and Pythagorean theorem.

Today Aurthur took the boys to work with him, so you were currently helping Molly cook dinner.

You had yet to understand the witchy way of cooking, so you were stuck mixing a bowl by hand while Molly sent knives, pots, and pasta flying all across the room.

You ducked a flying cutting board right as the group of rowdy boys entered the front door, your boyfriends voice in particular carrying over the noise of clattering dish ware.

“Honey, we’re home.” Aurthur calls, and Molly meets them all at the door, asking you to ‘keep an eye on’ the multitude of activity in the kitchen.

You look around with wide eyes, imagining all the magical pots dropping to the floor and spoons stopping their stirring, Molly walking in and wondering how you were so incompetent that you would never be able to cook and therefore would be a horrible wife to her son.

You’re only snapped out of your reverie by a flash of light in your eyes, and you tumble back to your current environment— all the dishes are still floating, the spoons were still moving, and Fred was staring at you with a giant grin on his face.

“Hi Freddie!” You light up at the sight of your boyfriend, but don’t allow his attempt at hugging you, too focused on not disappointing your (hopefully) future mother-in-law.

“They’re not gonna stop working unless mom makes them, these things are always going.”

But you refuse to budge, and Molly walks in to see you holding your boyfriend away with one hand on his chest while you continue trying to stir with the other.

She lets out a laugh, telling Fred to leave you alone and go wash up before dinner.

“One kiss? Pleaseeee?” He gives you puppy eyes, and your face goes bright red.

“Not in front of your parents!” You hiss, but he steals a one anyway before running up the stairs and out of the way of the punch you tried to throw at him.

Molly pretends not to have seen, and you let your face cool down before asking what she wants you to do next.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat at the large table, sandwiched between the twins while Ron talks to you from across the table.

“It was pretty fun, and we all got muggle souvenirs afterward, can you explain to me what this is?” He asks, holding up a PEZ dispenser with a cartoon character head on top.

You laugh, explaining how to get the candy out and watching as a few of the Weasley’s around the table stop to watch, Aurthur positively beaming at the discovery.

“Take a bite before dad can ask you something,” Fred whispers urgently in your ear, and you go to say something back but see Aurthur open his mouth on the other side of the table and you quickly scoop as much pasta into your mouth as you can fit.

You hear Fred laugh at you, and you turn to give him a glare; although it’s less scary due to the copious amounts of noodle hanging out of your mouth.

A flash once again momentarily blinds you, and you finally realize what it is when you see the small Polaroid camera in your boyfriend’s hand.

You go to yell at him, but still have pasta in your mouth so you settle for an angry groan and another smack to his arm.

You watch in horror as a piece of film comes out of the camera, which your boyfriend takes gingerly and looks at expectantly as it develops.

You finally manage to swallow your large bite, and you snatch the photo from his grasp, immediately being greeted by your own face, round with food in your cheeks and wide eyes while strands of pasta hang down your chin and sauce sits on the corners of your mouth.

“Freddie,” you groan in annoyance, but he just takes the photo back from your hands and looks at it proudly.

“It’s a lovely representation of you, darling.”

“It is not!!”

George is laughing too, and you turn back to your plate, trying not to think about the fact that your boyfriend now has two horrible pictures of you for keepsakes.

You try to help clean up after dinner, but Molly insists that someone else does it since you helped cook, so you head upstairs to your boyfriend’s room while Ron and Ginny grumble.

“Evening, love,” Fred greets as you enter the twins’ room.

“Y/n,” George greets as well, tipping his nonexistent hat to you before turning his back to you so he can start a letter to Angelina.

Your boyfriend uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, trapping you in his embrace and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you today.” He mumbles into your hair.

“It wasn’t even a full day,” you laugh, the sound muffled by his chest.

He scoffs, sitting down on his bed and pulling you onto his lap.

“So what, I’m not allowed to miss my girl?”

You feel your cheeks warming at the claim of being his, and you give him a teasing smile, “well when you say it like that..”

Before you can even move there’s another flash and you immediately groan, burying your head into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m really starting to resent your dad for getting you that.”

You feel his shoulders shake with laughter, but all he says is “I think it’s my second favorite possession.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, pulling back so he can see it.

“Second favorite?”

“Yep. After these pictures.” He grins, now holding up all three photos he’s taken of you since being home.

“Why can’t you just take pictures like a normal person?” You ask, looking at the two new photos, the one from earlier of you with a wooden spoon in your hand and eyes looking around while bowls float around your head, and the newest one of you sat on Fred’s legs with pink cheeks and a grin on your face.

“Normal people don’t get to keep your happy face in their pockets though, now do they?”

You watch as he puts the photos back, and you melt at the thought of your boyfriend wanting to document your joy to keep as his own.

“I’m always wearing my happy face when I’m around you, Freddie.”

He grins (ignoring George’s gagging) and pulls you down onto his bed, smothering you in kisses until he can no longer keep himself up and your face is brighter than his hair.

“Guess I’ll have to get more film then.”

And he does.

In fact, by the time you get back to Hogwarts from the holidays he’s got a whole wall of polaroids .

You in his Christmas sweater with a proud smile on your face and an F across your chest, you being squeezed by his mother in the worlds tightest hug, you on a broom in his backyard and a quaffle in your arms, you asleep on his bed, even one of you puckering up as if to give the camera a kiss.

And no matter how many times he looks at them, Fred still stares at the photos with a lovesick smile on his face, absolutely in awe at the ability to capture pictures that are so you, so full of light and love that he feels like the luckiest man on Earth to get to be yours.

[burn-before-reading]

moving in w joost fluff? eating takeaway pizza on the floor bc there isn’t a dinner table yet, unpacking old stuff from trips together, discussing where to hang paintings or how to furnish the place and that kind of stuff. just total domestic bliss. plzzzz I’m begging <33

Floor Pizza & Photo Albums

joost klein x reader

after finally moving in together, the two of you reminisce on how you two met and start planning your future.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Im a total sucker for domestic shit i love this request so much. Also as someone who has moved at least once a year the past couple years i kinda need a chill moving party at some point aaaaaaaa

“ Do you want me to set the last box over here?” Joost gestures to a pile of boxes labelled KITCHEN and you nod. Setting is down, he takes a look at the work you two have left, dozens of boxes scattered around your guys new house. The two of you had planned to move in together after he asked you about a year prior. So after five years of dating, looking at too many places together, and waiting Joost to finish his tour, you guys finally found the right place to settle down.

“Thats the last box from the truck, right?” you asked, leaning up against the kitchen island.

“ya, i think so. this took longer than I thought honestly. we should have hired movers.” he laughed, wiping the sweat from his hands.

“yeah, and now we gotta unpack everything. and we can’t fully do that till all the furniture we ordered shows up.” you look to the barren kitchen and living room situation. “at least we got a mattress.” you add clicking your tongue in thought a few times before looking at him and smiling “ soo… Dinner?”

-

This moment reminded you of your first apartment after college, but a little less lonely. The two of your sitting in a makeshift picnic in your soon to be living room, old blanket laid out to protect the hardwood from any crumbs from a bag of chips you grabbed. A box of pizza open and slowly being devoured with some beer to wash it down. a bit more relaxing than your first night at your last apartment. sitting on an air mattress, eating microwave ramen and rewatching a movie on your laptop. yeah, this time was a lot better.

“ That was not the first conversation we had i promise you.” you chuckled as the two of you reminisced on your guys past.

“ Yes it was! I met you at Alanis’s birthday! You complimented my tattoos and you were wearing that, that one thing.”

“that one thing.”

“yeah!”

“very specific.. and that wasn’t the first time we met.” you took a sip of your beer. “it was the week before actually.”

“No, I would’ve remembered you… wait, were you at the concert?” he asked, now more intrigued than ever. his head titled slightly in curiosity.

“I was. Alanis invited me.” you nodded.

“why don’t I remember you there?”

“because you got completely hammered the second the show was over. by the time she properly introduced us you were almost black out drunk.” You teased. He just winced.

“wow, im surprised you even agreed to a date if that was your first impression of me.”

“well I already had seen you at your worst, and you still looked pretty cute.” you smirked and leaned over to kiss him on his cheek before standing up and walking over to one of the boxes.

“Schatje, we can start unpacking tomorrow. Its late.”

“I know I know, Im looking for something.” You rummaged through one of the boxes with your name on it. After a second you found what you were looking for and pulled out a book before heading back over to a confused Joost, sitting back down on the floor next to him and leaning over so your shoulders touched. You handed the book to him and opened the cover up to reveal a photo album.

“I started a photo album after moving here.”

“I remember you used to bring those disposable little cameras everywhere. Thats why I bought you that polaroid.” you nodded and continued flipping through.

First few pictures were of your old apartment, the one you had just moved out of. The sad air mattress, a blurry mirror selfie, the old cafe you used to go to.

“after the first month I met Alanis. She saw me at the same cafe all the time and said I looked sad.” You pointed to the first picture of her you took at the cafe.

“Forever glad she befriended you by the way.” Joost murmured and kissed the side of your head. your face grew slightly red but you continued the small album tour.

“yeah, me too, moving to a new country was definitely overwhelming, but two months later,” you flipped through a couple more photos, your first day at work, a couple more outings with Alanis. “I met you, unofficially.” you joked. The top picture was him performing at his concert, He was shirtless and screaming some lyrics at the crowd. The picture below was of the two of you. He clearly was wasted, and had him arm around your neck. You were smiling, facing the camera, slightly buzzed, and the two of you were making the sign of the horns with your free hands. “you saw my camera and insisted we get a picture together.”

“How had i never seen these before? and Why am I barely learning of this now?” his hand touched the picture softly, like he was trying to absorb the memory of your first meeting.

“It was for like two minutes if that makes you feel any better. I had to leave immediately after. I just felt rude leaving without complimenting your performance. And I just never wanted to correct you when we were in public.” you reassured him, but he just kept gently brushing over the photos.

“can we frame it?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“if you want? I don’t wanna take it out but I can make a copy?” you replied, but joost had pulled the picture out and was stood up to walk to fireplace mantel and held the picture up. “be careful! your hands are greasy.” you followed him with the book to see what he was doing.

“It should go on this wall right here. in the center.” he imagined.

“we can, but its like, super tiny. shouldn’t we put something bigger over there? we can do like a collage maybe.” you saw the lightbulb go off in his head at the mention of a collage and you clutched the album in your arms tighter. “wash your hands first, then ill let you start pulling all the photos out.” he set the picture down so it rest on the mantel and stood back to admire the temporary decoration.

“Volmaakt.” (perfect)

“Well if my photos are going on the wall over here then,” you went to another box and pulled out a frame that had a funny portrait Joost had drawn of you on your fifth date. “I want this to go in the living room as well. we gotta have a whole art wall honestly.”

“I bet I could commision a painting from Daan to go above the couch.” he went and moved some boxes around to make the “couch” and another for a place holder coffee table and sat down on them. “ the tv can go over there. so you can hook up your game console.” he gestured in front of him then stood up again.

“maybe the book shelf can go somewhere on that wall?”

“hmm.” you stand next to him and stick your hands out in a frame shape and squint your eyes. “I can see it. You know what I think?” Your hands go back down and you look and him and grin.

“If we invite everyone over tomorrow they can unpack and move all the furniture for us.”

“They definitely will if we pay them in beer. Appie said he would bring my dogs over tomorrow anyway. I miss them.”

“me too, that's why the house feels so quiet.” you reply.

“well I can fix that.” joost goes pulls his laptop out of a bag and starts playing ABBA.

“The neighbors are going to hate us.” you laugh as he starts dancing and motions you to join in. “actually keep dancing I need to capture this.” you scrounge around in a bag of your for another little film camera and snap a quick picture of the floor pizza and Joost having his own mini dance party. satisfied with your documentation you go to join him, the two of you vibing to Gimmie Gimmie.

When the song ends you realize how tired you are so the two of you decide to retire for the night, and deal with the mess in the morning. Heading to the makeshift bed you had set up earlier with the queen sized mattress and a mountain of pillows, blankets, and stuffies. You simply let yourself collapse on the pile and Joost joins you, the exhaustion hitting you both. He feels his way through the blankets till he finds your arms and pulls you close to him so you guys can cuddle. In the morning you can deal with unpacking and furniture, but now you two can be next to each other, in the same bed, officially.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Ngl It kinda bums me out how often Hobie x reader works just... erase the whole 70's thing about him.

Like I get it and it is easier but I feel like so many fics write him as like a normal modern day guy that plays punk music and leaves it at that

Like he always has a phone and sends photos and texts and stuff. He always understands our lingo. Doesn't have any old school habits that are mentioned - like calling weed 'reefer' or something

I love the idea of Hobie having records and only listening to music physically. SWEARING by it Or him - like Peter Parker - having a Polaroid camera or being into photography artistically

VCRs were new in the seventies, so he'd probably have those too. Streaming would be insane to him. Microwaves didn't come until later, so he'd most likely eat left overs cold, and look at you crazy when you heat it up in one

Like yeah he's technologically advanced but he's still a guy from the past like Noir

I think the whole out of time dynamic is adorable I wish I could see it more.

Him being from the 70s is like my FAVORITE thing about him

[matthewschiavello]

Melbourne, April #12, 2024

Polaroid Duochrome Yellow, microwaved as developing and soaked in Alcohol and paint.

.

[reveluving]

I AM BACK AGAIN WITH MY HEAD IN HANDS AND HORNY BRUCE WAYNE ON MY MIND I NEED THAT MAN ABSOLUTELY INSANELY DESPERATE FOR BATMOM. SOMETHINNG ABOUT THE URGE.... DELICIOUS

BRB MICROWAVE NOISES ARE HAPPENING IN MY HEEEEAD 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

writing milf!Batmom was bound to happen at some point lol I was waiting for the day to finally happen fr fr SO HERE ❤

warnings: smut (18+ content, minors DNI!)

Look, with that many kids in the household, did you really think no one's going to talk about how sexy of a mother Mrs Wayne is?

Don't get me wrong, Bruce being called a DILF is not uncommon! Just look at him; a rich and respectable hunk of a man, who is also a father of six children and counting? So much hotter than when he was known as a playboy all those years ago. It was only natural for the public to talk about the missus in question as well.

Who could've possibly been the one to finally tame the Bruce Wayne and better yet, encouraged him into the married life?

You, obviously, and boy, did the public understand why.

No matter how much the media tries to deny it, they can never ignore your beauty, your grace, and dare I say, your MILF-ness.

C'mon, everyone's eyes were always on you the second you'd step foot into the gala. Oh, Mrs Wayne is here, in her new silky, silt-cut dress, matchint heels and jewellery that complements your every feature?

Sign me the fuck up!

You may have acknowledged the reputation bestowed upon you, but what you didn't realized was just how strong that power was.

But, of course, your reputation comes with a bit of a price to pay. Not by you, but by your children.

If there was one thing Dick, Jason and Tim were especially too familiar of hearing, especially on social media, it's about you, and the Internet can be very open with their thoughts. People are getting too comfortable on the app, as one would say.

While there was no denying that you were in fact beautiful, they were still your sons, and to see such language about you was almost as traumatic as seeing you and Bruce fooling around in bed.

• 'Mrs Wayne is so hot??? HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HER IN THOSE HEELS??? GYAT'

• 'I've seen her IRL when I was visiting her café and let me tell you; photos do NOT DO HER JUSTICE 🥵'

• 'If my future husband and I don't give Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne energy, I don't want it ☝🏼🤨'

• 'mrs wayne's thighs appreciation: a thread that will having you SCREAMING [includes 10+ photos]'

That last one in particular had an intimidating number of likes, mind you. As if their own set of fans weren't a lot to deal with already.

But hoho, if we're talking about Bruce Wayne's opinion on the matter?

Picture this.

It's like watching an edit of your favourites; going from a random video of you adorably scrunching up your nose to BAM—a slow-mo of you looking like a literal model. How or where anyone's ever gotten that footage from was uncertain, but if you asked Bruce if he's ever seen that video before?

Chances are, he'd say yes.

Repeatedly, even.

Hell, he might've saved it somewhere, amongst other 'tresures', for educational purposes.

He acknowledges the fact that you may be a teenage boy's fantasy, the dream trophy wife of many men, regardless if they were in their lonesome or in a tasteless marriage, but in the end of the day, you were his, just as he was yours.

And while he has the means to save your most intimate moments via his greatest machines, he actually prefers the good ol' polaroid. Saving at least a couple of boudoir photos in his pocket, wallet, the Batmobile, locked away in one of the Batcomputer's rack and much more. Whether they're photos of you lying on your stomach cross-legged in your lingerie, or even a picture of the two of you, glistening in sweat and naked in front of the mirror, he never ran short of his precious 'supplies', and he has more where that came from.

Knowing he was the only one able to not only see you, but make you writhe and scream and cum in his bed—in your bed, around his cock? He could die a happy man, truly. And he'll do just about anything you ask him to, no question?

Want his fingers inside you while he smothers his face in between your breasts? Certainly.

Want him to lie back so you can straddle his face and make you cum with that talented tongue of his? You don't have to tell him twice.

Want him to take your dress and lingerie off so slowly, even though his cock is aching to be touched by those sweet hands of yours? Say no more.

That man is always hungry for you, borderline desperate even, but what's new.

But, if it ever goes down to you, or when the public gets too comfortable voicing out, especially in front of you, and it clearly rubs you the wrong way, best believe he'll do something about.

He doesn't need the comments of others to know how sexy of a woman his wife really is, after all.

I wanted to write smut for this, considering it is a milf!batmom after all, but we all know how long it takes for me to do that HAHA I hope y'all still liked this one tho! Please don't forget to leave some sugar! ❤

[flodaya]

i’m really curious to know what pictures they have on their personal archives (specially the polaroids wall lol)

this life of surviving of crumbs and blurred taken on a microwave pictures is not fulfilling enough 😔

these are the couple pics they willingly shared with the world, i bet you anything their personal and private collection is new levels of sappy and gross

[southernbluebellereader]

Would you mind doing headcannons for being bears younger gf/wife after he and Lena divorce? Maybe he's shocked at how well you treat him bc of how long he's been with her?

Also I hope you enjoy six!

"You're Such A Sweet Little Thing"

A/N: I'm not quite done with the show, but I think I got a basic gist of Bear (he's so hot I can't. Barry can't do an American accent for shit, but I don't care lol).

Warnings: Cursing/suggestive language/innuendos, fluff, younger reader

Senior Chief Petty Officer Joseph "Bear" Graves x Younger!AFAB Reader (SIX)

Master List (Link for Tag List)

Safe For Work:

He still doesn't understand how he was able to get with you, his divorce with Lena was rough, messy, he barely gets to see his daughter, Sarah.

You met him at a grocery store when he saw your cart with lots of fresh ingredients compared to his very bare to the bones basket with a lot of pre-packaged food, microwaveable food.

You asked him if the food was for a dog and he laughed (he was secretly hurt, poor baby)

Let me tell you, he was *rough* looking.

After you exchanged numbers (and sent him simple recipes for food, y'all started getting to know each other).

Was actually surprised and somewhat ashamed that you were a lot younger than him, younger than Lena.

Loves when you call him "Your Big Bear" while rubbing his stomach, especially after you've cooked him a nice, hot meal.

Very insecure when showing you off at first, because (a), you're at least 10+ years younger than him, and (b), he's low-key worried about what Lena thinks.

He needs lots of reassurance, via food or other ways

It's not that he can't take care of himself, he most certainly can, but he's so appreciative when you cook for him and take care of him - like it's a form of re-assurance for him.

Once he gets more confident in your relationship, he gets really touchy, he's gotta touch you.

Hand on thigh at all times.

Not Safe For Work:

Secretly loves seeing you in skimpy outfits

One Halloween, you wore a cheerleading outfit and he almost had a nosebleed

LOVES being called "Sir" - you called him sir for the first time and he was actually a little flustered, but he ended up really liking it.

Slaps your ass if he walks by.

Again, surprised he actually bagged you

You had to explain to him what "DILF" meant - he was very confused at first, but ended up liking it

"Who's your DILF? Huh?"

Yes, he said that one time when y'all was wrangling on the couch

Y'all giggled too much and had to take a break before continuing.

Keeps a boudoir polaroid in his uniform at some capacity when he's away

He has shown it to the others lol

Loves missionary because he loves seeing your facial expressions when he bottoms out

"God, you're so fucking tight- tightest pussy I've ever had."

Will fuck you in the kitchen - does not care if you're cooking.

[peachiemilkytea]

Lockdown

Pt 1 , Pt 2

Summary: After the Department of Temporal Phenomena had released tapes instructing everybody to go into isolation in 1992. You sit alone at home sitting in loneliness and misery. But the unknown threat roams suspiciously close to you.

Paring: Alt!Gabriel x you

Warnings: paranoia, depression, isolation, religious themes, break-in, descriptions of injuries, use of Y/N, etc

WC: 3K

─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚───

The tv plays with bright colors that can burn anybody's eyes. Figures of people in swimsuits with piña colada's and margaritas in their hands walked around. Sounds of annoying voices yelling at something pointless was the only thing filling up the silence in the house. I sit on my sofa with the remote in my hand, watching whatever came on the tv. This time it was some reality tv from other states.

Ever since the outbreak, Mandela county has gone on lockdown. The government released these tapes of alternates. Phenomenal creatures that come into peoples homes and use their mind against them. My dad always said it was the devils work. There's been cases about it in the news of people going missing and alternate reports. It's hard to sleep without a night light on. I can only imagine the police department being flooded with calls. There isn't much to do about the alternates since nobody knows how to get rid of them. The most recent tape the government handed out was the M.A.D tape. If you're M.A.D then you're too late.

It been lonely being in isolation, I had to pick up my high school dipolma through the parking lot's roundabout. I still have the yearbooks, prom pictures, folders of graded worksheets, and Polaroid pictures of what friends I had. It wasn't easy making friends in high school when your the priest's daughter. With everyone's mothers going to the church your dad owns to go on their knees and pray for God. Now I'm by myself. Sitting at home, watching girls fight over the guy in a tropical paradise.

Everyday is the same. Nothing ever changes. I feel like I'm sitting here waiting for my turn to die next. That scares me so much. Things never change on the outside, but I have changed internally. I am so lonely. I haven't talked to another person in months. Let alone been outside. Grocery shopping trips don't count. Sometimes I think I'm mute with how quiet I am. There's nobody there to talk to. I don't have my friends anymore. Everyday I wake up and stay in bed for seven hours. My teeth are becoming yellow cause I can't find the strength to take care of myself anymore. Every night, I stay up for hours tossing and turning. Every little thing makes me upset. If I drop a spoon and it gets dirty I break down in tears. I don't feel like myself anymore.

On the clock, It was ten thirty. Maybe I should eat. I did skip lunch. I didn't have the motivation to get up and make something. The fridge was too far away. It takes too much energy to make any food. Though I'll starve. I guess I'll have to get up. That's going to take awhile to do, it's so hard to move my body when I have no motivation to get up. come on come on come on.

I slowly get up from the couch, my legs feel like they can't hold my body up. Walking to the kitchen, I don't know what to make. A Tv dinner will do. I grabbed a Tv dinner with lasagna. I pull down the foil halfway, then put it inside the microwave. I get this uncomfortable feeling, but I don't know where it's coming from. I look around to find nothing. It feels like something is staring at me. I shrug it off and put the tv dinner inside the microwave. Hearing beeping coming from it. I'm getting kinda nervous now. It feels like something is off. I stared at the microwave hoping it would heat up faster. Waiting for it makes time feel slower.

There's tapping outside the window. It felt like it was all around me. I looked around, checking the windows. Nothing was there. I didn't see anything tapping. It could be a tree branch. Living next to the woods makes it hard to see things at night. Since there's no street lights it's pitch black. I go back to the microwave.. but the tapping got louder. It was coming from in front of me. The microwave beeped. I quickly pulled out my food and grabbed a fork out of the drawer. Fast walking out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

The relief soon flooding me, what was all that about? It would be stupid if I tried to investagate it. I don't want to get killed. I slowly ate my food listening to the pitchy voices coming from the screen. The guy didn't even look cute... he kind of looks like a monkey. Wiping the red sauce away from the corner of my mouth with my thumb. I didn't really have much of an appetite. Watching the waterfall come down into a lake as the girls danced around in their bikini's hoping to catch the attention of the guy. One of them went to go talk to him in private which made the others mad. One of them went crazy over it. Seeing all this water makes me need to pee.

I encourage myself to get up again, slowly lifting my limbs off of the couch. Walking down the dim lit hall, I feel better if all the lights are on but it's too much effort to go find the light switch. I open the door to the bathroom.

----

The light floods the hallway when I open the door. Closing it with a click. As I'm walking away, a window near the bathroom is open. That's werid.. I could've sworn I've closed all of them. I pull the window down, clicking the lock at the top. what if something happened? Something could have come through that window. Am I in danger? Maybe I'm being too paranoid, everything is okay. It's my house.

I walked back to my living room, plopping down on my couch. This is getting boring, I grabbed the remote and changed the channel. hmm, horror? The last thing I need is to have my paranoia questioning everything. No. Action? Every super hero movie is all the same. No. Bible prayer session? ummm No. I already did that today. Oh! Sunday night's comedy! I could use a good laugh right now.

The Tv showed a guy with a microphone making jokes to an audience. I even pitched in a few laughs. He was creative. A few different comedians came out after every commercial break. I liked the lady who complained about her husband.  Her sarcasm was funny.

Huh? That's weird. The TV is flickering with a bunch of static coming from it. Maybe it's the wifi router? I got up to check behind the tv. Restarting it a couple of times, the static wasn't going away. If it's not the connection it must be the power. I need to check the circuit breaker. I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawers, going to the basment door in the hallway. The basement is always scary. It is silent and dark down there.

I take a deep breath feeling fresh air come through me. I got this, it's just a quick trip. I open the door to be greated with pitch black. I don't want to do this... The flashlight clicks as it turns on. Every step I go down creaks. I'm afraid it might break from under me. Where is the circuit breaker? Oh, it's in front of me. I look at the switches and buttons. Maybe it will reset itself if I turn it off and back on again. I click the switch turning it off, then sliding it to the other side to turn it back on again. I hope that worked. Now to go back upstairs.

The basement door slammed close. Heavy muffled footsteps echoed through the basement. There's somebody in my house. I stiffened. What do I do? My anxiety pumped through my veins,  adrenaline went through my bones. Sweat made my hair stick to my forehead. I need to call the police and hide. I sneaked back upstairs. I don't know where the threat is.

I ran towards the hall closet, nimble enough to make little to no noise. I don't feel safe anymore. If I get up to my room and lock myself in there I should be safe, right? There's a phone by my bedside. The footsteps get louder, they come closer. I put a hand over my mouth to control my breathing. Please leave me alone.

A alternate, pitch black with a deformed human body walks slowly up to the closet door. It looks around. Don't open the door. Please don't open the door. It stays there for a minute, till it slowly walks away and into the kitchen. I quitely keep my steps light, with a flashlight sturdy in my hands. If I need to attack I will, but I'm afraid of getting close to it. I reach the top of the stairs. I'm almost there, my door is at the end of the hallway.

ĥ̷̛̻̹̓̍̔̍å̷̢̻̫͕̬̟̭̽̔͐̿̔́̈͘͜͜͠s̷̙̪̉͌̍̒̓̆̌̈j̸̱͇͕̫̣̄͐̍͒̏c̷̢͖̗̘̳̜̙̀̾̈́̋͑͊̉̾̈́̚ͅm̶̢͈͔̑͑́͊̅k̶̨̦̯̩̖͓̅̏̓̔́̌̓͠f̵̡̟̭͚̮̮̜̺̂͝ͅͅo̴͙̎̑͑ë̴̫́̋̔̈̌̆͊̚p̸̤͚̻͛ẁ̸̳̟̝̝̰͔̩w̶̰̣͓̌̅e̷͈̩̝̺��̎̏̊͂̉̎͆͆͜

Oh no. Turning my head over my shoulder. The thing was staring right at me. Without thinking, I ran. The air in my lungs became tight and light. The creature ran after me with inhuman speeds. It's stomps were enough to shake the whole house. My heart pumps out of my chest. My legs burn. I go into my room and slam the door in it's face. Locking the door immediately. It bangs and screams at the door. oh my god oh my god what did the government broadcast say? T.H.I.N.K.? I can't remember the principals!

I grab the ends of my dresser and push it in front of the door, grabbing whatever I could find and put it in front of my door. I yanked the phone off of the reciever and dialed 911.

"Hello? emergency services, how may we help you?"

"There's somebody in my house, it doesn't look human. Please help me. My name is (Y/n) (L/n), I live on Osprey street."

"I'm sorry, we do not get invovled with alternate cases. Please be safe and make it out alive." The emergency responder hung up the phone. What am I supposed to do now?!  I put the phone back down on the receiver. Then it started speaking to me through the door. It speaks of all my trauma, all my failures and embarassing moments that I didn't want to remember. I covered my ears and hid in my closet. It's watching me through the door.

"Come to Your refuge with joy for You shelter me against the attack of the devil. Protect me, O Lord, from the craftiness of the enemy, and save me from his evil plots. Cover me with Your presence when I feel weak so that he will flee from my presence. Amen." I feel myself whispered under my breath, clasping my hands togethers. Shutting my eyes. I let out my intentions into each and every word.

"Protect me, O'Lord. Protect me, O' Lord. Protect me, O'Lord. Protect me O'Lord!"

----

The sun shined through the built in blinds on my closet door. How long has it been? The early morning? Ugh... That alternate still might be at my door. I haven't shut my eyes all night. There's muffled whispers of deceiption. I need to get out of here.

I open the door, my rooms scattered with mess. It looks like a natural disater happened in here. There are murmurs of manipulation getting louder. I'll be okay if I jump out the window. Then I need to run like hell. It's quick so I need to be quiet. I tip toe to my window sill. I gently open it and hang my legs out of it. Taking a deep breath, I jump.

The bushes crushed my fall, but my feet weren't placed right. I think I sprained my ankle. It hurts so much. It hurts with every movement. I need to get out of here. I need to go to the police. That's the only safe place I think off. I get up slowly. Sprinting down the side walk, my ankle hurts with every step. My hair flows behind me, my lungs gasp for air. There's tension in every bone in my body. I run, I run, I run. No matter how tired I get. I can't stop running. Please, please. I need to get there. I don't want to die.

There's people looking at me weridly from their cars, people walking down the sidewalks look at me fearful. I'm almost there. In the distance, I see the sign, Mandela County police deparment. I feel my body giving up on me. Air has become suffocating. I can't stop now I've come too far. I can't go back to my house. Everything is watching me. I run, I run, I run. Police officers eye me down in front of the building. I stop in front of the place. My legs give out from under me, it burns when I breath. My ribs cramp up and I feel it coming back up through my throat. I swallow the vomit back down.

A few officers come to my side, pressing their palms on my shoulders. Asking me questions I can't make out. The world has become blurry. The two police officers help me up and inside the building. I don't know where their taking me. It's too hard to see. I'm sitting on something soft. I blink a couple of times to focus my vision. Getting used to the light in the room.

"Hello? Miss? Can you hear me?"

"Ruth, she has a sprained ankle."

The officer looked at my ankle, moving it from side to side. It hurt so much. I wasn't even focused on the pain until now. He gently holds it. I wince with every touch. I can tell he's looking up at me worriedly.

"Wha.. what?" They loooked at me surprised but relieved. The other officer, Ruth I think. Left to go behind the desk, pulling out a first aid kit. She threw it to the other officer. He caught it and started working on my leg.

"Are you okay?" Ruth asks coming back with a notepad  and pencil. Her eyes showed so much. It was comforting. The gentleness of everything felt safe. Like I was no longer being watched.

"Barely.." I mumbled, my throat hoarse from running for my life back there. My lips felt so chapped, licking them might make them worse but it's a natural instinct.

"What happened?" The other officer tending to my ankle asked.

"I called earlier, something broke into my house. I barricaded myself in my room and hid in my closet till morning. I thought it would go away but it didn't. So I jumped out of my window and ran all the way here." I explained. They turned pale and tensed up.  Ruth reached for her gun.

"Ruth no." The other officer reached up and grabbed her arm.

"Thatcher, she could be one. She needs to be stablized." Ruth said sternly pointing her gun at me. I tensed up and gasped. Sweat went down the side of my face.

"She's not. Her injuries are heavy, if she was an alternate she would be able to heal them. She came here looking like hell." Thatcher tried to convince her. Oh, so that is his name.

"She could be faking all of that if she was an alternate, for all we know she's already dead and an alternate could be using her body." Ruth said, her trigger getting steady. Thatcher put his hand up saying "wait." He holds his hand up to me slowly, I move back afraid at what he's going to do next. His hand gets closer to me, I shut eyes looking away. My heart beats out of my chest. His fingers touch my pulse.

"she has a heartbeat, alternates don't have heartbeats." Thatcher confirms. I open one eye looking around. Ruth lowers her gun. I open both my eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the room again.

"So everything you said is true?" Ruth asks gently. I nod slowly. I'm scared to say anything.

"Start from the beginning." Ruth ordered, pulling out her notepad and pencil again. Writting what I said before. Oh dear God protect me.

"I was at home making food, but something was tapping on my window. It was coming from in front of me. I thought it was a tree branch and I was freaking myself out. I spent some time eating and hanging around. Till I had to go to the bathroom. When I came out of there, the window was wide open. It was closed before I went to the bathroom. Then the tv was getting all staticky, it wasn't from the wifi router so I checked the circuit breaker in the basement. But when I reset the breaker, somebody slammed the basement door shut. I heard footsteps walking around my house. The nearest and safest phone was in my room, I sneaked back upstairs but it chased after me. I barricaded myself in my room and called the police but nobody came." I explained more of the story, stuttering and shaking. Flashbacks appeared in my mind, every fearful moment.

"And that's when you waited for it to leave but when it wouldn't you jumped out of your window and ran all the way here." Thatcher completed the story. I nodded profusely.

"You ran all the way here with a sprained ankle?" Ruth asked, I nodded again confirming that.

"I couldn't feel the pain cause of my adrenaline." I added on. Though it's splinted and wrapped up, it stll hurts like hell.

"You should stay here for awhile, to make sure the alternate in your house has left." Thatcher said getting up of the ground helping my leg up onto the couch. It felt better now that it was laying at an angle. He opened the mini fridge in the office and pulled out an ice pack, he gently put it on my ankle. I winced a bit at the sudden change in tempature.

"In the evening, officer Thatcher and I will escourt you to your house, We'll do a clean out search. You'll get home safely." Ruth said reassuringly, putting her hand on her hip with a smile.

"Thank you so much." I grinned at her, I can finally relax. I assume this is a shared office since there's two desks. They returned to their spots. I laid my head on the couch looking up the ceiling. It's okay now, you're safe. I tell myself,  I can get some sleep in. It's all going to be okay. My eyes flutter shut.

----

... mm ...hmmmggg... mmmggg...

"Hey, (Y/n) it's time to wake up." The nudging on my shoulder got more apparent. I slowly open my eyes, feeling groggily. I rub the sleep from my eyes. Oh, It's officer Thatcher. I sit up slowly.

"How long was I out for?" I asked. I look back down at my ankle. It looks kind of better. Less swollen, still hurts though.

"For about seven hours, you needed it though. Ruth and I are going to take you back home and check your house." Thatcher informed. I leaned over and took the icepack off. He held out his hand and I took it. Slowly getting up. I winced, the weight on my ankle was too much. I held my leg up like a hurt dog would hold up it's paw.

"Ready to go?" Ruth asked in the doorway holding her stuff. I nodded smiling softly. I don't want to go back home, but I can't stay at the police station forever. I dread going back. I don't think I feel safe there anymore. I limp to the car with Ruth helping me, she holds me up by my waist. I must be living every kid's dream, I get in the police car.

The sun goes down making all kinds of pinks, oranges, and yellows. It was hard to see from the barred up backseat window, but still enjoyable. The radio  played softly, some kind of 90's punk rock. It must be the radio station that Thatcher likes. The poles of streetlights pass by quickly, homes that are locked up are filled with light, There's few cars on the road of people coming home from work. It feels so.. human. That's reassuring to me. It reminds me in a way that I survived. I see my house in the distance.

"Is this it?" Ruth asks, looking at me in the review mirror. I nodded staring back at her. I don't want to go back. There's nothing awaiting me there but an alternate. She parked nearby my  driveway.

"Stay here, if we don't come back then drive back to the police station." Thatcher instructed. I nodded again looking up at him doe eyed. I gave him my house keys. They both got out of the car, I watched as they enter the house.

I waited for a few good minutes in the car. My anxiety rised higher and higher with every second they were in there. My leg bounced profuesly as bit my nails. I'm slowly losing control over myself. Soon enough I see Ruth coming out with Thatcher, she knocks on my door. I sloppily get out with a little help from her. Thatcher gave me back my house keys.

"The cost is clear, there's no alternate. But we can see you put up a good fight." Thatcher said looked at me grinning.

"You did one hell of a job with that bedroom door." Ruth snickered and helped me into my front door. The silence speaks volumes, I don't want to be here anymore.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay." Ruth says patting my shoulder gently. She helps me into the couch.

"We fixed up the bedroom a little to cut you some slack. If you ever need anything call us, and use the code word Delta. It's to know that you're the real you." Thatcher said smiling comfortingly. I feel a little better knowing I have a plan for next time. But I dread those words, next time. Like it won't end after this.

"Thank you so much for everything." I said trying to sound okay. My shoulders don't let down their guard.

They both bid me goodbye, I sit in a quiet house full of loneliness. I don't want to be here. It feels different without people here. I'm not going to bed tonight.

[atimeofyourlife]

Whumptober day 9

rated: t | wc: 1743 | prompt: Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.” | cw: homelessness, implied neglectful parenting Steve becomes homeless after his parents sold the house. He tries to keep up the lie that everything's okay.

Steve knew he would get caught in the lie eventually. It wasn't something he'd be able to hide forever. That his parents had sold the house from underneath him, no offer for him to move with them, no offer of assistance to find somewhere new to live. Leaving him living out of his car until he was able to find somewhere new to live. Having to use the showers at the community pool, which he had access to because he'd never returned the keys after the last summer he'd worked there. Surviving off of to go meals or non-perishable food that he could eat without heating it up. Unless he was at work, then he could use the microwave for something hot. He just wanted to hide the lie long enough to be able to find a place to rent, preferably a place that didn't need a reference.

Robin would have picked it up immediately, but she'd left for college. They had a weekly phone call arranged on his Tuesday night late shift at Family Video. Originally it had been to his house, but he started claiming that his parents were home with no end date to cover up that he was no longer living there. He'd told everyone else the same lie, telling them they could reach him on the walkie if they ever needed him. Robin hadn't been happy, but she'd accepted it, knowing what his parents were like.

The kids grew a little suspicious when he started refusing to give them rides all the time, because he didn't want them to see how stuffed his car was with all his belongings, but they quickly got over it as they were old enough to drive and some of them had cars of their own. He made various excuses, from the price of gas to working over time to needing to help his parents with something. He wasn't sure how much they believed him, but none of them called him on it, and eventually they stopped asking.

It was harder lying to the adults, Mrs Henderson, the Sinclair's, Joyce, and Hopper. Steve felt like they could see right through every lie he told them. Especially as they stepped up and started offering more help to him. Hopper and Joyce inviting him round for dinner at least once a week, often more. Mrs Henderson offering the use of the guest room whenever she saw him, if he ever needed a place to stay. Mr and Mrs Sinclair extending an open invitation for him to show up whenever he wanted to, and always tried to force him into taking leftovers after every visit. He didn't think they knew he was homeless, as he was certain that they would make a bigger deal out of it, but it was obvious they knew something was wrong, most likely that he was having a hard time with his parents being home.

He moved his car regularly, never staying in the same spot for more than two nights in a row. Not wanting to get caught by the police, especially not Hopper. It was awkward, but again he made it work. He had to, if he wanted to get any sleep. On more than one occasion, if he was on a closing shift followed by an open, he would pull his car around to the back of Family Video and sleep there. And there'd been a night during a particularly bad storm where he'd done all the closing duties, and locked himself in for the night, crashing on the lumpy couch in the breakroom so he wouldn't have to try to sleep as the wind and rain battered his car.

But it was only a matter of time before it started to fall apart. He got caught sleeping in his car by the police twice in a week. First time by Callahan when he was parked at the edge of the quarry, then a few days later by Powell up near Lovers Lake. Both times he gave the same excuse, that he'd gotten into it with his parents and needed to get away from them for the night. He realized later that he should have known that information would quickly make it's way back to Hopper. That outside of government mandated ones, there weren't many secrets kept in Hawkins. After that, he tried to find different parking spots, resorting to the dark corner of a parking lot for a motel that was just outside of town. But he only got a couple of nights there before it all crashed down.

It started with Dustin calling him on the walkie just after he'd finished work one day. Declaring there to be a code red, and that Steve needed to meet everyone else at Joyce and Hopper's place immediately. Steve broke a few traffic laws on his way over, horrified that it might be starting again. For what it would mean for the town, for his loved ones.

When he got there, the place seemed strangely quiet and subdued for the Upside Down potentially starting again. He climbed out of the car, and made for the trunk, stopping when he noticed Hopper watching him from the porch.

"You don't need the bat, kid. Just come on in."

Steve felt uneasy as he followed Hopper inside, unsure what was actually going on.

Once inside, everyone was calm. Too calm. No one was panicking, no one was planning, no one was organizing weapons. They were all just sat around waiting, with the tv on low in the background.

"What. What's going on?" He asked hesitantly.

"Steve, honey, we need you to talk to us. Tell us what's happened." Joyce said softly, guiding Steve into the room.

"I. What?" Steve was confused. "I don't- what happened? Is it the Upside Down?"

"Why would it be the Upside Down?" Mike asked from where he was stood against the wall.

"It. Henderson said-"

"You called a code red?" Lucas hit Dustin in the arm. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"We needed to get Steve here without him asking questions." Dustin protested, hitting Lucas back.

"Okay, all of you, pack it in." Hopper warned the kids, before turning to Steve. "Don't worry, Harrington. It's not the Upside Down. We just needed to talk to you."

"Steve, is everything okay at home? Are you safe?" Joyce asked, and Steve froze for a second, terrified that they had found out.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't I be safe?" Steve lied, fighting to keep his expression neutral.

"Powell and Callahan have both told me that they've caught you sleeping in your car on different nights in the last week. That you'd got in a fight with your parents or something." Hopper said cautiously, as if he was trying not to sound accusatory.

"Well, yeah. But you know what they're like. Me and dad clash heads a lot and it's easier for me to leave so we can both cool down. It's not the first time it's happened. When I was younger I used to crash at Tommy's." Steve replied, not exactly lying this time. Because it had happened so many times, even leaving him sleeping in his car or outside before.

"You're a liar." Dustin burst out.

"What?" Steve asked, unsure where Dustin wasn't following the lie.

"You're a liar. You're lying to us. I tried calling you a few days ago and the line's been disconnected."

"My parents wanted to get a new number because they kept getting harassment calls. I guess I just forgot to let you guys know that. I'll get it to you soon." Steve still wanted to dig his way out of it, even though the look on everyone else's face said they didn't believe him.

"The kids told me that calls weren't going through, and they were worried something had happened. So I went round to do a welfare check. It wasn't your parents that opened the door. It was a new family, and when I asked about you, they said they'd brought the house and moved in two months ago. So what is going on?" Hopper said firmly, and Steve knew he was caught.

"Look it's no big deal. I'm managing." Steve got up and tried to leave, but Hopper grabbed his arm before he could.

"Harrington. Steve. You're not going anywhere until you tell us exactly what's been going on. How long you've not been at home, how you've been coping, where you've been staying?"

"We're worried about you, we just need to know that you're okay." Joyce added.

"I'm fine." Steve insisted, but knew he'd have to explain at least some of it. "My parents sold the house. I didn't want to leave, but I've not found a place to rent yet. But it's all fine, you don't need to be worried about me."

"So you're homeless? Have you been sleeping in your car the entire time?" Hopper asked, but Steve didn't answer.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dustin demanded. "My mom has always said that you can use the guest room whenever you need it. You could have stayed with us."

"Because it's not a big thing. I've been coping just fine. No one needs the burden of me staying with them until I can find a place to rent." Steve snapped his mouth shut as he realized that he'd admitted that he saw himself as a burden.

"Honey, it's not a burden on anyone. We all care about you, and it's never a burden to make sure that you're safe." Joyce replied, her voice tinged with sadness at his answer.

"You're going to stay with us." Hopper said firmly, giving Steve a pointed look when he opened his mouth to protest. "No buts. It's safer for you, for everyone. You can have the guest room for as long as you need it. And if you want me to, I'll cosign for you to get an apartment once you've found somewhere."

"I. I couldn't accept it." Steve started, unsure of what to say about the offer.

"If you don't accept it, we'll tell Robin that you lied to everyone about your parents being home, and that you were actually homeless." Dustin threatened.

Steve knew he was stuck. Robin would just about kill him for not telling her that he'd been made homeless. "Fine. I'll take the guest room. But only until I find a place to rent."

[hypersonic04]

New Year's Day

hello everyone! I hope you all love this one as much as I do - it doesn't really align with the song and it's vibe, but i love it nonetheless and was smiling and kicking my feet the whole time i was writing this. i also just wanted to say thank you so, so much for all of the love and support you've all given me on not only these fics, but the teacher ross blurbs I've been writing in response to your asks! i truly am so grateful and you're all so lovely. thank you thank you thank you. enjoy new year's day!

word count: 2,225

November. Arguably the worst month of the year to end a twelve-month-long relationship. Well, twelve months, three weeks and five days. 31st December, also arguably the worst day of the year to be feeling particularly sad about said relationship.

Your boots trudge in the snow as you hold the shopping bag tightly. Your scarf is slipping from your neck, bag probably splitting from the ungodly amount of cheap wine it's holding, and there's a sheen of sweat on your forehead, despite it being -3 degrees in London. No wonder he left me, you think as you recall the evening.

13th November:

"So that's it?" He stands in the doorway, hands on his hips as he huffs. He's stood tall, the plush sweater hugging his body contradictory to the harsh frown on his face.

"Ross, it was you that said we needed some time apart!"

"Because you’re the one being distant, y/n!"

"Distant? I'm the one being distant? Ross, you've been away on a tour for over six months. I know you can't help it, but I really don't think that our ‘distance’ is because of me." You bite down on your bottom lip, eyebrows tilting downwards as you fight back tears. He runs a hand through his hair.

He's right. The distance in your relationship has definitely been as issue as of late, both physically and metaphorically. You'd been staying late at the office, he'd been across the other side of the world, and it's not exactly a recipe for success. You'd fall asleep right as he called, he'd be performing when you woke up.

He swallows heavily, dark eyes looking at you pleadingly, almost. An ache presents itself in your chest, breath caught in your throat as you anxiously play with the hem of your sweater.

"Is this really it, then?" You clench your jaw, tears threatening to spill.

"I..." His voice trails off, looking away and scratching his neck. You can see his glassy eyes, the way he pulls his lips into his mouth - you can read him like a book, a really heartbreaking, sad book. "Do you want this to be it?"

"Do you?"

He doesn't answer you, but instead picks his coat up from your sofa.

This can't be real. This is Ross. You were supposed to marry Ross, you were supposed to grow old together and do all of the things you used to dream about.

You don't chase after him as he walks down the hallway, you don't try and make him stay or beg him to take you back. The sound of the door closing behind him lingers in the empty flat, almost echoing off of the walls that seem to be so impossibly close. You feel the shell of your body take a seat on the sofa, a sob filling the void.

The weeks since then had been a cycle, and a toxic one at that: too much alcohol, too many nights crying to your friends, and definitely one too many times you nearly called him. You'd unfollowed him on everything, the sight of his smile and the dimples you'd so regularly peppered kisses to sending a wave of sickness, a wave of envy, through your body. You'd taken down the polaroids, hidden his hoodie somewhere you'd never think to look, plunged your head straight first into work and work only.

Only now, it's New Years Eve, and you're forced to face the reality of your situation.

A microwave meal for two is heated up, eaten by one, cross-legged on the sofa in a pair of pyjamas that could probably win a competition for 'World's Ugliest Nightwear' (a Christmas gift from an aunt). The flat is warm, lit by candles and fairy lights on every surface, a knitted blanket pooling around you. Glasses on, hair up, and who knew half a bottle of Echo Falls could fit into one glass?! The discoveries of a single woman in her 30s were truly groundbreaking.

If your loneliness wasn't apparent enough by the constant reminders of how fun and exciting your friends' lives were via social media, the BBC One New Year's Eve countdown did the job.

"So grab that special someone and get ready for the countdown! 30 minutes to go!" Some tacky presenter wearing a far-too-sparkly jacket grins down a microphone. You scoff, rolling your eyes at the cliche and taking a glug of wine.

Your eyes trail to the window, the gentle fall of snow making you reminiscent. You wonder what you were doing this time last year - at Ross' parents, playing a board game with his family, sat in between his legs whilst he played with your hair. The thought makes you inhale sharply, eyes stinging as you avert your gaze back to the TV. You wonder where he is right now, probably an A-List party with the rest of the band, surrounded by stick insect models wearing clothes worth more than your entire wardrobe. You bet they've never eaten M&S ready-meal lasagne. You wonder whether he'd squeeze their hand in the back of a taxi, whether he'd carry them up the stairs of their flat when their heels break. You dab your cheeks with the back of your hand, catching the tears trailing down your face and sniffling. Necking back the rest of your wine, you get up from the sofa to grab the bottle from the kitchen, slippers shuffling on the wood flooring. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window, and it reminds you of how you and Ross would dance together in this very spot, how only months ago he'd kissed you against this fridge, had spun you around, giggles filling the room like the most beautiful confetti you'd ever seen. You'd recognise that laugh anywhere.

"10 minutes to go!"

The first bars of All By Myself bleed from the speaker, a singer you don't recognise butchering it already.

"Oh, give over!" You complain at the TV. Of all songs they could’ve picked for New Years.

When you were little, you always thought you'd end up like Rachel from Friends, or maybe even Angelina Jolie. Bridget Jones was never on the cards, singing the singleton's anthem into a wine glass on New Year's Eve.

If it wasn't for the banging at the door, you're convinced you would have hit the high note. You frown to yourself as you pad down the hallway, passing the clock - it's 11:53pm on New Years, who could possibly be knocking on your door? You wonder whether you've accidentally called for a Chinese takeaway in your state of sadness, or a neighbour telling you to be quiet.

You gasp when you swing the door open.

His eyes are tired, and definitely drunk, creasing in the corners as he pulls his lips inwards, brow lowered slightly. His coat is sprinkled with glitter and fallen snow, like some kind of fairy dust against the black fabric, his hair ruffled like he's ran a hand through it a million times over. He's slightly out of breath, chest heaving up and down beneath his white button-up, tongue quickly swiping between his lips.

"Ross." You breathe out, eyes quickly moving over his face. His eyes are watery, nose slightly red, and you notice how he swallows heavily when you speak. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be at a party or something, I-"

"I was," He inhales, a slightly bashful smile on hips lips as he furrows his brow, "but I didn't want to be there."

"You didn't want to be there?" You ask, suddenly feeling naive and hyper-aware of your appearance. You purse your lips, searching his face for an answer or context.

"No," he shakes his head firmly. "I wanted to be here, and I've messed up, and..." His voice trails off as he rubs his face, huffing. "I'm sorry, you probably have people over-"

"I don't. I don't have people over." You interrupt perhaps a bit too eagerly, watching as his eyebrows raise and his lips part slightly. "Is everything alright? If you need a taxi home, I can call you one, I know the numbers for some, I'll just write them down now..." You turn back into the hallway, rummaging around in a drawer of a cabinet for a taxi firm leaflet and a pen.

He watches you for a few seconds, looking away for a moment as he contemplates the mistake he's made. None of the models or singers or actresses at any party in the world could compare to you, his y/n. The corners of his mouth threaten to curve upwards as he notices the penguin print on your pyjamas, the way you nervously push your glasses up your nose, spotting the empty bottle of wine on your coffee table in the living room further down.

"y/n, no," he starts, making you glance at him with a concerned expression on your face. "I don't want a taxi."

"You don't?" You shake your head at him with a frown.

"I want you."

"Me?"

"Mhm." A soft, airy, perhaps a little drunken laugh escapes his lips at your questions, the way your voice goes up a pitch. You nod at him, contemplating what he's saying, wondering if you've actually just fallen into a lasagne-induced coma on the sofa and this is a dream, a manifestation of your pining. "Take me back, y/n."

You inhale sharply, watching as he swallows deeply and searches for your response, almost looking through your eyes, deep into your brain.

"The biggest mistake I made was ending things. I'm an idiot, y/n/n! I'm an idiot, and I do things and don't think them through," He rubs the back of his head, shaking his head with teary eyes, "and now I'm here on your doorstep asking you to take me back, because I'm not man enough to do it without a drink, and I don't think I could've gone on any longer without coming here, and-"

Your warm lips on his are what ends his rambling. He raises his eyebrows, the kiss taking him aback for a second, before melting into it completely. You hold onto the lapels of his jacket, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your pyjama top, running upwards gently as you stumble backwards a little.

"You're not an idiot." You pull away and say breathlessly, looking up at him shaking your head. "You do think things through." He smiles down at you softly as you speak, brushing stray curls from your face and resting a hand on each cheek. "Will you take me back?"

The kiss he presses to your lips answers your question, deep and passionate and so very needed. You push the door closed with your free hand, the other around his neck, eyes closed and inhaling his aftershave deeply. The faintest smell of cigarette smoke and champagne is mixed in, but it's like walking back into a golden memory, or your smelling your favourite perfume. He walks you both backwards into the living room, and in perfect timing, too.

"...2, 1, Happy New Year!"

Fireworks sound on the television, but you're not 100% sure whether they were just in your head. You pull away from him and hold his face in your hands, and he lets the weight of his head lean into your palm.

"Happy New Year, Ross." You smile through watery eyes.

"Happy New Year, y/n."

He presses a kiss to your lips again before taking your hands in his.

"Jesus Christ, your hands are freezing!" You hold them both between yours.

"I walked here, and I didn't have gloves, so..."

"You walked here?" You gasp, holding his hands to your mouth and pressing a kiss to them. "It's snowing!"

"I know, but I thought the walk from Bond Street wasn't as far-"

"Bond Street? That’s, like, 45 minutes away! You walked for 45 minutes?!” You laugh in shock, shaking your head at him, "You've lost your mind."

"I'd have walked the Earth if I thought we were going to be okay." He shakes his head softly, looking down at you. "I've thought about you every day."

"If you'd have called, I'd have picked up."

"You blocked me." He states matter-of-factly before trying to suppress a grin, "And unfollowed me, so-"

"It was a moment of madness, I just..." You scrunch your nose us and squeeze your eyes closed as you cringe, smiling a little, "I'm sorry." You rest your head in his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

"I'm sorry, too. Really sorry." He huffs, "I'll never leave you again, I promise."

"Me neither," You tilt your head up at him, nodding as if to affirm your words, "Even when it's hard, and we make mistakes like this."

His arms around your waist the next morning are warm. You lift your head to look around the room, those god awful pyjamas strewn across the hall near the bathroom door, his shirt on the floor, your bra haphazardly hooked over the end of the bed - the two of you from the night before. You lay back down, turning your head to look at him - his lips are parted, slow, steady breaths leaving them. The bedroom is stone cold, the white sheets around both like a cocoon, but you've never felt warmer. You think about last night, a smile on your lips as you lay with your eyes shut.

[raising-harmony]

[Pelipper Mail]

[You are gifted a hand woven wooden gift basket, placed inside are two plushes of the legendary dragons; Reshiram and Zekrom. Along with this is a small goody bag of caramelized sugar dipped pecha berries and a hand written note written in neat cursive writing, the note goes as follows:

"𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓾𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓢𝓸 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂.

𝓐𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱, 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓹𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮, 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽'𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓪𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶, 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓐𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓾𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮.

𝓐𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓘 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓫𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓲𝓭 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶 𝓹𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓘 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻...

𝓘'𝓶 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓪 𝓣𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓘'𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂... 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓾𝓮𝓼, 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓭.

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂, 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓔𝓾𝓻𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓶𝓮."]

This was awfully kind of you. The plush dragons are simply wonderful, not to mention surprisingly accurate to what I have seen. Your craftsmanship is impressive. I know N will love them. Perhaps he could take one with him during his doctor visit for a bit of comfort.. We shall see. Thank you.

I'm curious of your polaroid story. It sounds awfully strange.

Finally, as for Lacunosa Town, it is rather unfortunate to hear you had such difficulty. I cannot say I'm surprised by this. Nevertheless, good hearing from you, and again, we appreciate the gifts.

(for anyone having difficulty reading the font, the text has been pasted plain under the cut!)

"I recently checked back up on your blog and found out about your attempts to diagnose the young prince and how much this stressed the poor thing. So I thought gifts were in order for his bravery,

As such, in the basket I've gifted are two plushes of the dragons you seem to like and that you hinted that the prince will one day command, they are hand made, of course. The one of Reshiram is actually microwavable, leave it in one and it'll come out toasty and warm, very soothing. As for the candies, keep them in a fridge until after his evaluation and you should be fine.

Apologies if there are inaccuracies, I didn't have many reference photos nor drawings to go by whilst sewing, only good enough photo I had was a polaroid photo a strange young lady gifted me in some random pokecenter before disappearing before I could question her...

I'm aware you wished for an update on my endeavors with Lacunosa Town, but I'd rather overly length this letter with my..... Troubles and issues, unfriendly people to outsiders indeed.

From yours truly, Lady Eurynome" (?)

[haraganazo]

Enny

Polaroid gently microwaved then soaked in corrosive liquids #naarm #shotoniphone #incameraglitch #pano_mode

☽ Collab w/ @matthewschiavello ☾

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 2 3700 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

It’s 7pm when Y/N knocks on the door to Steve's suite. He’s half way through a bowl of microwave soup, it sits abandoned on his counter as he goes to let her in.

He’s shocked to see her, especially so late in the day. She smiles warmly, and he notices for the first time how kind her eyes can be.

“Do you want a drink of anythin?” he offers politely, as she looks around his room.

Her eyes catch a framed polaroid on his nightstand. It’s clearly him, even though it’s sepia and blurry, he’s arm in arm with Bucky, even though he’s much more bright, than she thinks she’s ever seen him.

“No” she coughs, averting her gaze before emotion can tint her features, “No, thanks Steve, I don’t think I’m stayin’ long”

He nods, and gestures for him to sit beside him on the couch.

“Do you need somethin?” he asks, at the same time as she says

“I passed on your message”

The room is quiet as her words hit him. His dinner is long forgotten.

“He…” she continues, “He says he’s sorry too”

Steve watches her, and palms at his jaw.

“he wanted me to tell you that never meant to hurt anybody, especially not you- he hopes you’re okay, and he says, he says thank you for the dog tag”

He looks at her, wide eyed and not understanding;

“You-”

“I told him you’d dug it out storage, said they must’ve thought it was yours when they were goin’ through the junk for the museum”

“Y/N…” he says, struck by the thoughtfulness behind the gesture, “…You didn’t have to do that- you found it, you-”

“-I-” she cuts in softly, “-have given him plenty of gifts”

He doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s clearly sparked a new tirade of questions, and it’s just as clearly taking every ounce of his restraint to stop him from asking them all at once.

She laughs fondly, sitting back

“He said it makes up for his 18th birthday, by the way”

His chuckle is genuine, it’s boyish and light.

“I can’t believe he remembers that” he says, “I, I couldn’t afford to get him anythin’ that year, I was always sick but- that, that was a bad winter, so I tried to help his ma’ make him a cake- it, it went bad, nearly burnt his kitchen down”

“Yeah he did mention that” she confirms, “I promised him I’d keep an eye on you around the stoves in this place, not that you ever use them”

She eyes his bowl of soup unhappily, and he finds himself beaming, nostalgia sitting heavy in his chest.

It feels nice to reminisce, to share stories like that without the shadow of tragedy that normally follows, along with the explanation that everyone involved is dead now.

“Wait” he says, realisation dawning on him, “You… you gave it to him?”

She nods, sensing that he’s finally catching on,

“I did”

“so, you… you saw him?”

“I did”

The confirmation is expected, but he's still taken back by it.

“When?” is the only follow up that comes to mind,

“We got lunch”

That tugs a disbelieving laugh from his chest, it bubbles past his lips, unexpected and raw.

“Today?” he clarifies, thinking back to earlier on,

“Yeah, Steve, today”

Y/N’s making a conscious effort to not sound patronising, but despite her best attempt, she thinks it rings through regardless.

“We need to talk” she decides, before he can reply, “we have to be honest with each other, and I’m gonna need you to have an open mind, think you can you do that?”

He considers her seriously, before nodding.

“Yeah, I- I can.”

“Good” Y/N affirms, relieved, “I know you have questions, I think now’s a good time for you to ask them”

Steve looks down at his hands for a minute before nodding, and staring into her eyes.

“How did you find him?”

“I think you mean, how did I meet him” she says with a smile, “I never had to find him, because I… I never lost him.”

His mouth hangs open,

“You know I worked for SHEILD, right?” she asks, sensing his need for answers.

“Tony mentioned it, before you came into town-”

“Tony is protective” she says, sitting back, again “he likes to paint things a certain way- I’ve been an agent since I was 18, and I’ve… I’ve done a lot of things, Steve, not, not all of them have been strictly good…”

He’s watching her intently. She feels strangely vulnerable, but she decides trusting him is worth the risk.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been evil- I’ve never hurt anyone for the hell of it, or killed someone in cold blood- but, I had a habit of takin’ the jobs nobody else wanted, and there was this one job…” she begins to explain, “…we got intel that HYDRA were lookin’ to take one of our field ops. Word was, that they were waitin’ on us sendin’ them out on a false lead, where they were gonna scoop them up for some kind of…special agent programme.”

His brow raises, he’s intrigued.

“I found out who the target was, and put myself up to go on the mission, meanin’ to get caught in her place, I- I got clearance from the boss to use myself as bait it… it took some convincin’ but, I- I promised I’d be back in no time and eventually she signed off on it…”

“I don’t understand” Steve says honestly, “You wanted to get captured?”

Y/N nods,

“I knew that the only way to find out what they were really cooking up was to get pulled into it, and I knew the only way to do that without raising suspicion was to let them think their plan had worked.” she explains, “But, I- I couldn’t let their original target take that risk, so I made sure it was me they were gonna get hold of…”

“Did it work?”

“Oh yeah, it worked…” she says, “They picked me up, couldn’t believe their luck, scorin’ a Stark- I was sent off for a wipe before I’d even come round”

“A wipe” he echos, disturbed.

“As it turns out, their special agent programme wasn’t so different from their Winter Solider one.”

Steve’s jaw hangs slack, he looks distressed, but he controls it well, nodding and steadying himself.

“I never did figure out why they never worked on me” she says, “My best guess is that they tailored them to Bucky, back when they first got hold of him, made sure they worked properly, but then, never thought to alter any of the settings for me.”

She’s deliberately glossing over the details. He’s grateful.

“Anyway, it was quite lucky really, because with a little bit of acting I convinced them I was totally brainwashed after my first go”

He blinks again, processing her words the best he can.

“They trained me up, tortured me when I refused to make a new batch of serum for them to use on me, and eventually, started savin’ space by keepin’ me and Buck together when we weren’t in storage.”

Steve is stunned. He’d had no idea about any of this, barring the general description of Y/N as a high up SHEILD agent, he’d brushed off the question of why she’d been MIA for years prior to her quite recent reappearance at Tony’s side.

“Me not bein’ able to think for myself made it quite easy for me to get on the good side of most of the higher ups… it got me into my fair share of trouble too- more than my fair share, really but- eventually, I convinced them to give us more privacy, and… the uh, the rest is history”

“How… How long were you there for?”

“5 years, more or less” she answers cheerily, “It’s a little foggy, with the cryo, but definitely more than 4 and less than 7”

He gives her a contrite nod, and rubs his palms on his jeans, appetite well and truly lost.

“After I made sure Bucky was goin’ to be gettin’ out, I-“

“What?”

Y/N tilts her head,

“You tried to get him out?”

She sighs, and adjusts her position.

“I’d been messing with the tech whenever I had chance- I’m good with things’ like that, so, I- I did what I could- his, his wipes were less frequent by then anyway, and we… we got close enough for me to… it- it doesn’t matter” she clears her throat, clearly hiding some deepest emotion, “-I knew they were sending him after you, and I- I told him he had to make it look real, because if he didn’t they’d send someone else, and I- I knew that’d make everything worse”

“He tried to kill me” he says, hating that it’s the truth, “damn near succeeded, are you sayin’ that was him, that he knew?”

“No” Y/N is quick to answer, “No it all went wrong after the bridge- he was never good at acting, no matter what I tried, he was too petrified of the officers to even attempt to lie- so they wiped him before I could do anythin’ about’ it- I- I did try, but they just put me into storage-”

Steve’s head is throbbing. He sighs, and tugs at his hair.

“When they pulled me out it was to hunt him down, they told me he’d gone rogue, I was to recover, or kill him, if I couldn’t bring him in”

“So what did you do?”

“I went to the place were we said we’d meet up when it was over” she says with a small smile, “he was waitin’ there, he’d been there for a couple of days by then- He told me everythin’, about you, and what’d happened with SHEILD- He’d told me about how, how when everythin’ had happened, he’d thought I’d died with the rest of them…”

Her expression is difficult to read, her fingers are laced together, and Steve can’t help but think she looks younger than he’s ever seen her.

“I had no idea about what had happened, one minute I’d been trying to get into the room where they were keeping him, and the next I was being sedated-” she scoffs, shaking her head, “-sure, I’d been pulled out of cryo by a guy I didn’t really recognise, but, things were always changin’ like that, so I didn’t, I didn’t realise how much had changed until he explained it all. As soon as I knew, I helped him get set up, and then, I went straight back, killed any guys I could find left over, and then I torched the base…and then I… I came home”

Steve nods, exhaling slow, and deep as he considers the reality of what that must’ve been like. Suddenly her saying she’d never lost Bucky, makes a lot more sense.

“Does Tony know?”

“Not about me and Barnes” she tells him, “But, he knows about the rest”

He nods again.

“You’ve gotta understand, Steve, I- I, I knew, about that night… They’d shown me the tape of Howard Stark dying when they first brought me out of cryo- I- and as soon as I met him, I knew it wasn’t him, I understood it wasn’t his fault, but Tony, Tony didn’t get that kind of exposure- he got it thrown at him, in the heat of the moment and he was so hurt, he was so hurt that you hadn’t just told him that it didn’t seem fair of me to add to that”

“I know I handled it badly, Y/N, but I didn’t know how to explain-“

“It doesn’t matter anymore” she says kindly, “He thought I was dead too, that- that’s why it was all so painful” she sighs, “I was never supposed to be gone so long, and when I didn’t come home or touch base with SHEILD they assumed somethin’ had gone wrong, declared me MIA, assumed deceased- from what I’ve heard, he, he took it hard…“

“At least you came back”

She smiles, and nods.

“Only half a decade late”

He forces a laugh, before the question he next asks jumps past his throat,

“why did you leave it so long? couldn’t, couldn’t you have found a way out sooner?”

Y/N looks at him knowingly, before averting her eyes.

“If I had…” she says, “It… it would have meant leaving Bucky there, and I- I knew that if I went, any attempts we made at pulling him out or, doing anything to stop them would’ve put him in so much danger that it— I decided, it was better for me to stay were I could help keep him safe”

His whole demeanour shifts, suddenly he’s dripping with sympathy and it’s all he can do not to reach out and hug the woman who’s baring her soul for her so openly.

He wishes he knew her better, that he felt more comfortable in offering some kind support, but he doesn’t. He knows her brother, and even that is difficult.

“I didn’t know how long it’d be” she continues, “but once I’d seen him- how they were treating him, I- I couldn’t just, go back, Steve I couldn’t leave him there on his own…”

“You love him” Steve says, realising it’s the truth.

Y/N blinks at him, before adjusting her gaze. Her lack of denial is conformation enough, even if her silence only lasts a moment.

“I love my brother, I never meant for him to think I’d died like that”

He knows that, so he nods.

“And when I came back he never asked about Bucky” she tells him, “He was just relieved to see me, even after I told him about the training’ they’d put me through it didn’t seem to click- I, I think it was just, so much to take in that by the time I’d told him the whole story he didn’t think to ask if we’d met…”

“Well it must’ve been a shock” he says, “you comin’ back from the dead”

Y/N scoffs a little at that, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It was…” she agrees, “and he was so worried about anythin’ happenin’ to me after, that he put me up in a near by safe house for a month, told me to stay away from what was left of SHEILD until he could figure out who to trust… I snuck Bucky in with me for a while- it… it was a good spot to get some normality, y’know? … then Tony patched things up with you, and the others and I guess he decided he could trust you all, because he brought me back to the tower”

That’s more than a little bit flattering when Steve really starts to think about it. Reconciliation hadn’t been easy, but the idea that Tony trusted him enough to introduce him to his sister, especially after everything he knew she’d been through, is… a lot.

Just when he thinks he’s processed everything, another detail pricks at Steve’s consciousness, his head tilts and Y/N readies herself to answer what she knows he’s about to ask,

“Wait…when you came here… did Bucky stay in that safe house?”

“Bingo”

“Son of a bitch” Steve mutters, frustrated, “He’s been in New York all this time?”

“‘Fraid so, Cap’” she replies, “and it’s been good for him, it- it really has but now-“

“now you think he needs to move?”

“I think he needs to move here” she corrects

That shocks him.

“I’ve tried talkin’ to him-” she begins to explain, “I’ve begged him to let me just stay full time, I promised I could square it with Tony, y’know? I could tell him it’s for me, that I need more time alone but he… he won’t even consider it, he says he won’t let me do that for him but every time I leave it gets worse-”

“He loves you” Steve says, again, knowing it’s the truth.

This time, her smile is more obvious. Even though she tries to hide it behind her hand.

“Maybe, but I need your help, Steve”

“I’ll do anythin’” he agrees eagerly, “Just tell me what-”

“First of all” Y/N begins, “You can’t mention this to Nat”

That hits him like a tone of bricks. It’s so unexpected that he finds himself squinting.

“the, bit about me, anyway- she can’t know about me volunteering to take the place of the target agent”

“Why?-”

“Please, Steve” she cuts in seriously, “It’s important.”

After a second of confused consideration, he sighs, and nods in agreement.

“and then… I’m gonna need you to be patient.”

“…Patient…” he echos.

“Yes” she says, “Bucky loves you, he really loves you, but he is petrified- You can’t go rushing in trying to find him just because you know he’s close by, he begged me not to tell you, it took hours of me talking to him to get him calm enough to believe that you weren’t just going to storm in to take him somewhere-”

“Somewhere?” he repeats, “Like where?”

“I don’t know, Steve- all I know is that he’s so scared, of gettin’ hurt, of things goin’ back to how they were that he- he just needs time”

“I… I’ll stay away, Y/N- Of course I will I- I’d never just-”

A quirk of her brow silences him.

He would, he would’ve just turned up out of the blue, and he wouldn’t have given it a seconds thought.

“and he wants you to read his file.”

Bile floods Steve’s mouth, he averts his eyes, posture stiffening.

“he’s writing you a letter, too, but I think the uh, the file is more important.”

He feels himself sighing, releasing a breath he hadn’t meant to hold.

“Please, just skim it? it’s not graphic, it’s only the SHEILD write up, and I’ve gone through it with him, he’s- he says it’s the bare minimum you need to know before he sees you… or before you decide if you want to see him”

“If I want to see him?”

He’s gone back to parroting now, so it’s clear that he’s at his limit for the night, Y/N decides to wrap things up.

“… It’s important to him, okay? and when I go and see him tomorrow, I’ll bring whatever he’s written back for you-“

“He thinks it’s gonna change my mind, about wantin’ him here?”

“He thinks” she says, “that you have no idea about he did with HYDRA, and I think, he’s worried about what you’ll think of him when you find out”

“That’s ridiculous” Steve objects, “Of course I know”

“I was there” She says with a shrug, “he knows I know, but he still worries I’m going to decide he’s evil, and disappear”

That’s heart-wrenching. The idea of how hard he’s being on himself makes Steve want to break the promise he’s just made, and turn up on his door step to convince him that he’s not going to turn on him, no matter what he reads.

“He’s gettin’ better about that” Y/N feels the need to add, “with me anyway- but for now, for you-“

“I’ll read whatever you want”

She nods, before reaching into her back pocket, shuffling a bit in place as she reaches for the item she’s been keeping concealed for the most of the day.

Steve squints, confused as he finally spots the folded photograph in her palm.

He accepts it a little dumbly when she moves to pass it to him.

“I thought you might want to see” she explains, slightly embarrassed as he unfolds the polaroid, “It’s hard to get him to pose”

He laughs, quiet but ecstatic when the image reveals itself.

His oldest friend is on the left, hair long, but tied back, face a little weathered, but smiling, as he presses a kiss to Y/N’s cheek, she’s on the right, beaming at the contact.

It’s the first time he’s seen Bucky Barnes in the better part of a century. This is not The Winter Soldier, this, is the boy he grew up with, even if he has a little more facial hair.

“You… you make a goodlookin’ couple”

Y/N snorts, offering him a sweet smile as he beams at her, and then back at the image.

“You can keep that one” she tells him, when she sees how he’s still staring at it, “I won’t be offended if you cut me out of it- I tried to get him to sit for one on his own but he won’t”

Steve laughs, looking at her with grateful eyes. He feels honoured that she’s trusted him like this, he feels honoured that she’s opened up to him at all, considering the experiences he’s had with her brother, and the way he knows his behaviour has hurt the man she clearly holds so dear.

Y/N stands slowly, padding over to the door- Steve follows, and it’s only when he pauses, looking at her with a strange expression that she decides, once again, to pull him in for a hug.

She can’t help but feel protective over him, despite his obvious strength, she’s seen how Barnes frets over his wellbeing, and part of that seems to have rubbed off on her.

It’s good that it has, she decides, because he clings to her back with such intensity that she can’t help but wander who last held him like this.

“it’s all goin’ to be okay, y’know, Steve” she tells him, because she thinks he might need to hear it.

“How do you know?” he murmurs, unable to hide the fact that he’s worried. Worried about losing the friend he’s been trying so desperately to regain, worried about upsetting the friend he has in Tony, who he’s already lost once, over this, and he’s worried, that it’ll all be his fault, when it does come crashing down.

“Because-” she says, pulling back to look into his face “-I’m a Stark, and we’re always right.”

He gives her a half hearted chuckle, before pulling back and nodding.

“Careful, Darl-’” he says, with a tight lipped smile “You’re startin’ to sound like your brother”

“Is that a bad thing?” she says, leaving.

1 | x | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

[distortionswife]

JonMartin fic: Together is always better

( Part 1 )

-- note before the fic: this is set after 159 but before the hell that is 160. SO SPOILERS FOR MAG 1-160 --

Together is always better.

" That's the thing, isn't it? Ever since that day... The day Jon came for me, the day Jon took me out of the lonely... Ever since then, we've just been happy.

And if I'm honest, I couldn't be happier. I'm glad we aren't in there anymore, in the institute... It feels so free. I've never seen Jon smile as much, he's so excited to move in with me and I feel the same!"

Martin smiled to himself, writing down his many thoughts in his journal, reminiscing on how everything was better now. He had to kill some time while Jon was getting to his cabin.

" Oh, I'm so excited... Jon doesn't know what i have planned for us but I just know he's going to love it! We'll sort out his stuff and settle him in... We'll drink something and then I'll take him to my favorite spot.

I have a backpack ready with everything we could need, including every little thing Jon can worry about; I have a notebook, first aid kit, one of those little fans for food, so that there can't get any bugs into his drink!

Oh I can't wait to write today down, to capture Polaroids of our day together... To hopefully capture that loving smile, the smile that makes me absolutely melt."

And suddenly the bell rang, it was Jon!

Martin had a moment of panic as he didn't know what to do, his hands up as he looked around quickly, closing the journal and putting it away. He yelled a quick "COMING!" before he bolted it for the door, looking as calm as can be.

Which wasn't calm at all, the sweetheart was a nervous wreck and it showed.

"H-Hey Jon! I wasn't expecting you this soon... N-Not that I mind! Gosh no!" Martin rambled, scratching the back of his head as Jon just smiled up at him.

"I'm happy to see you too, Martin..." Jon chuckled so sweetly, looking well taken care of for once. He did that as of late, since Martin seemed to like it. And if he could make Martin happy with those little things... Maybe it was worth it.

Martin let him in and helped carry some stuff to the bedroom. Jon surprisingly didn't have much, just a big suitcase with everything he held dear.

"Do you want anything to drink? Or do you want to unpack first? Anything is fine with me, so please tell me." Martin giggled a little, smiling at Jon, who just seemed at ease, for once.

Jon looked around for a moment, admiring the gentle and soft colored interior. The U-Shaped kitchen island, the white countertops with light blue cabinets, the metallic gray fridge, the microwave resting on top of one of the counters... How every cabinet held cups, plates, spices, drinks... He's never felt his at home before and it was... nice.

"Ah- Sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment," Jon apologized with a hearty chuckle, "If you don't mind, I'd like to unpack first... It isn't much so I'll be done in a moment."

Martin nodded and brought Jon in for a hug, "I'll see you in a moment, then. I'll go brew the tea and coffee while you unpack."

Jon nodded at Martin, his gaze lingering for a moment as he noticed those tiny details he honestly has grown to love... The freckles on his cheeks or the way his glasses are never on straight.

But that gaze was soon broken, as Martin had let go of Jon to go make tea in the kitchen. And so, Jon set off to the master bedroom they now shared.

Once in there, he opened his big brown suitcase, seeing everything he had packed... Including his favorite photo. He knew how he hated that photo at the time... The very first photo of Jon and Martin together, on the very first work day. Elias had insisted that everyone took pictures together as it would make the team stronger or some workplace bonding type BS.

But... He cherished that photo now, smiling as he saw them still so young and... unharmed. Oh how he longed for those times, no worm scars, no paranoia and most importantly, no eye that was constantly watching and hungering for more.

But Jon didn't adore Martin back then, he wouldn't have what they have now... And that wasn't worth it. Some scars and trauma over Martin?

Martin was his reason for everything... He didn't think he'd still be here if it weren't for him..

But Jon shook off those many thoughts, just happy to finally be somewhere safe... somewhere he's happy. And Martin made him very happy.

Jon continued to unpack, various sweaters, blouses... Some of Martin's hoodies he had stolen... All put away in a second closet, it seemed Martin even did that... After all, the little note on the door said "I got you a closet of your own, so you don't have to panic which clothes are mine and which are yours <;3"

He bumped into the desk by accident, seeing a notebook fall out and looking curiously. Jon saw the words "Jon" and "surprise" and he just closed the book, he didn't wish to know it for once.

He trusted Martin, after all.

It wasn't long before Jon was done, walking to Martin with a gentle smile, he felt relaxed. Part of him wondered how long it would last.

Martin sat him down with a cup of oolong tea, just relaxing for a moment. The two joked a bit about how in the end, it was always going to be them, even if Jon hated him in the beginning.

It was almost time..

"Hey, uhm, Jon? I was wondering something, would you be interested in coming with me somewhere? It's just a beautiful spot I'd like to show you..." Martin spoke, trying to be as confident without leading Jon on to accidentally reveal what he had in mind.

"Oh? Well, I'd love to, actually... But do you have--" Jon started,

Martin immediately cut him off with a chuckle, "Yes, I have everything, including the first aid kit, the tape recorder and a notebook... I've got everything you could ever need, with me."

Jon laughed softly at that, "Well... I guess I'm ready to go then, please lead the way, Martin."

Oh how Jon wasn't used to this, but how he adored it... Martin knew him so well and for once, it wasn't a bad thing.

Martin got up from his seat and walked over to Jon, putting his hand out. Jon immediately took it as he got up, letting go and walking towards the front door.

Both put on their respective coats, it was quite chilly outside and neither of them were in the mood to get sick, even if it'd mean they could cozy up together.

Martin wasn't sure what level of intimacy Jon was comfortable with, of course he was never going to push him on it, that felt unnecessary and wouldn't be good on his part... So he waited until Jon told him or made the move. They hadn't even held hands yet...

Jon stood in front of Martin, noticing him drifting off again, that same misty look in his eyes. "Martin? Martin! Martin come back to me!"

Martin flinched lightly and blinked rapidly, "H-Huh? Oh- Was I drifting off in thought again..? My bad..."

Jon smiled in a reassuring way, taking a hold of Martin's hand, rubbing his thumb over it in an attempt to ease him. Although, both of them blushed very lightly at the gesture. "It's okay, don't worry... I've got you, I won't let you fall back into that place..."

Martin felt himself melt, his heart fluttering with such adoration for the paranoid man before him... He knew he had a heart, just because some eye made him monster-like, didn't mean he wasn't able to care anymore.

"Thank you"

"Of course."

And with that, they left the house, hands intertwined with a gentle almost cautious hold.

Martin lead the way, watching Jon for if he needed to slow down his speed. Whenever Martin got excited, he'd walk faster and talk faster, after all. Not that Jon minded, he always seemed to smile as Martin spoke, it'd fluster the boy whenever he did notice it.

The walk was nice and quiet, going over meadows and through the nearby forest, the lighting of the sun illuminating their path so beautifully and it almost felt... romantic. The golden glow of the low hanging sun, giving them enough warmth to not be too chilly, paired with the gentle rustling noises of leaves in the breeze... It was perfect.

Then they arrived near a big pen, where Martin's favorite cows stood. He let out an excited yelp and ran towards them, many of the cows going towards him as well.

Jon smiled at that alone, bringing out his own camera and taking a few pictures of Martin with the brown highland cows. Oh that smile... What did he do to deserve someone such as Martin?

"Jon! Jon! Come here!! Quick!!" Martin said, seeming even more excited than before.

And Jon, of course, walked over hastily, partially worried something was wrong, probably not reading Martin's tone correctly.

Martin pointed at a calf, it was fluffy and near it's mother.

"Remember that I told you about Bertha being pregnant a few months back? Well... it looks like she had her baby!" Martin explained, squeezing his hands as he held back the excitement that wanted to come out. He couldn't hold it back completely, so his arms waved back in forth in a flapping manner while he watched the new calf.

"That's really exciting, Martin! And it looks so well, too!" Jon replied, happy to see Martin in his true element.

Martin nodded very excitedly, watching as Bertha walked to him with the calf, almost as if to show him off. Martin reached out his hand after the mother gave him permission, the calf sniffed at Martin's hand before pressing his head into the hand.

Jon took a few more pictures, knowing Martin would want this moment captured nonetheless.

After a little more cuddling with the cows, they were back on their way, with Martin's promise that they were "almost there"

Their little walk ended in the beautiful flowery meadow, a beautiful sight of the setting sun and... A picnic cloth and basket..? Oh Martin really did have it all planned out.

Jon felt his own heart flutter a bit at the sight, sitting where Martin told him to, looking over everything in complete awe. Although his heart sank a bit when he felt that damned urge again, looking almost apologetically to his love. "Martin I-"

"No, no, don't worry! I expected it..." Martin smiled, putting down the tape recorder and the notebook with a pen, "I will be a little further away, you can see me if you want to... But wave to me when you're done!"

Jon nodded and watched him leave, before focusing on what kept him alive, recording another statement, about the ones who were once buried down here deep below... And the few that are still breathing.

Martin, in the meantime, was picking flowers, planting a flower seed wherever he picked them. He looked back at Jon, seeing his eyes glow once more, his back hunched.. "Good god Jon has TERRIBLE posture," he thought...

But while he waited, Martin turned the flowers into a flower crown, somehow knowing the dimensions of Jon's head perfectly. A mixture of blue and green flowers to symbolize the two of them.

He watched Jon while he made the statement, from afar so it wouldn't tire him out. Even like this, Martin found a way to adore him.

He waited and waited, how long was this statement? It's taking quite some time.. Oh-! He's done.

Martin giggled a little as he saw Jon waving in an almost exaggerated way, unsure if he'd see a tiny wave.

Either way, Martin made his way back to Jon, sitting on the other side of the picnic basket. He took out some Tupperware boxes with various foods, such as sandwiches and little deserts he had made... the canister with hot tea, some cups... Everything they could need.

"Oh Martin... Did you do all of this for us...?" Jon spoke, practically falling for Martin again.

"Yes! I wanted our first actual date type outing to be special... So... Everything is homemade... It's everything you like, that you told me, I mean... So please, enjoy it.. for me?" Martin explained, a big smile on his face as he offered Jon a cup of tea.

"Thank you... But before we continue this... I have something for you, Martin... And it may be cliche... But I like it." Jon chuckled a little nervously, grabbing something from his pocket and handing it to Martin. It was a small wrapped gift.

Once Martin opened it, it held a locket of some kind, a heart shaped locket with a photo of the two of them.

"I-I know it's nothing grand and as I said, cliche and maybe cheesy... But i wanted to give you something so I'd always be close to you... So you have something to look at if you miss me..." Jon explained, his cheeks red as he did. He was never the one for materialistic gifts, as he was quite bad at figuring out what someone would want as a gift.

Martin teared up, smiling oh so happily at Jon as he held it to his chest, "Oh Jon..."

Jon, however, didn't understand that this was a good type of crying. He immediately cupped Martin's face, his own expression filled with worry. "I-Is it too much? Does it remind you of something you don't like? I-I-I can bring it back and get you something else!"

Martin laughed softly, moving his hands to cup Jon's face as well, "Please don't... I love it..."

"Y-You do..? But- But you're crying!" Jon said feeling confused at the mixed reaction Martin gave off.

"It's a good type of crying, Jon... It's crying out of happiness... I really love it... Thank you." Martin spoke, his love for Jon evident in every way; in his voice, his eyes, his gentle hold.

"I love you, Martin.."

-------------

And that's the end of part one.

I'd absolutely love to write more but I'm also very sick at the moment so I'm splitting up the story into two parts, I hope you don't mind!

The fluffiness is definitely continuing in part two <3

And sorry if it's a little short, once more, I'm sick so I write what I can! and do tell me if you liked it!

[matthewschiavello]

Melb April #25, 2024. . Polaroid microwaved and then soaked in alcohol with paint.