#thephantomofthe-internet

Hallo, sweet pea! Thank you so much! 💖

K - What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

I have answered this one but I would like to add to it!

Previous answer: Probably an idea for a Nat, Steve, Bucky fic where Nat’s in a relationship with Steve and then Bucky returns and she has to face the ‘feelings’ she had for him when they were at The Red Room together and how it would affect all their relationships with each other.

For one I’ve actually written though, probably Unrequited Love, which I know some people would like a sequel to but I just love leaving it as it is ‘cause I’m mean.

Aaaaaanndddd I’d like to add that I once had an idea for a story with Hop where the reader dies instead of Bob. 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I was so tempted to write it, too, because it’s so not my style but I just can’t bring myself to.

I am writing a multi-chapter story atm, though, for another character which will probably be the angstiest thing I’ve ever done.

B - Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

Queen of the Night. The part where she puts on an outfit that she feels so good in and then is surrounded by so many people and suddenly starts to feel very insecure. Ooooh, boy, I’ve been there many times. I’ve said so many times before and I’ll keep saying it, QOTN means so much to me because it’s so personal and I’m so, so proud of it.

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comments: i just really like it bc it’s a mood 

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comments: i just love me some stranger things

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comments: i love seeing them on my dash!

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comments: you were so sweet when I asked you to proofread for me and i’m so glad that I know you!

following?: no but ily! | I am now! | yes! | always!

:0 three ... for u i will <3

i give u whole paragraph <3

ok this is sad for my standards so buckle up <3

“Don’t you like me for me?” // “Who do you change for?”

===

You loved Steve, but Steve didn’t love you. You knew that. You knew that. You wore that fact on your chest, owned it. But it still hurt every time you watched him flirt with other girls - especially in how he’d shapeshift around them. One second he was a dork, and the next he was a suave actor. It made your head spin and your stomach turn. He never changed like that for you. But even worse - Steve felt that he needed to change for people to like him. That may have hurt you even more than the ever-present rejection.

It was also ridiculously frustrating that he had someone right there in front of him, but he refused the love they could give. 

It can be confusing, too. Steve was downright charming. He would wink at you, pick you up and spin you, bring you flowers that were growing in his yard because they’re your favorite color. And yet he acted so indifferent and so aloof. 

The pain swelled and swelled in you until it boiled over. 

“Don’t you like me for me?” you ask him. 

Steve’s brows furrow. “Of course I do.”

You take a shaky breath. “Then why don’t you like you for you?”

His brows furrow further. “I - I do.”

You shake your head and stare at the floor of your living room. “You change constantly.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t know I had to stay the same.”

“Who do you change for?” you press. 

Steve begins to pick at his nails, mulling over the question and the accusation that preceded it. He takes a deep breath and says, “I guess ... I change for people I want to love. And who I want to love me.”

It hits you like a wave on the beach. You wince. Pushing back tears, you ask, “Don’t you know that people love you for being you?”

“Yeah, in that bullshit way,” he says, laughing slightly. “Not like they love me.”

You gently kick his sneaker with yours. “Steve.”

“I know what you’re thinking. But my friends only love me as that - as a friend. When I’m myself around... girls... they don’t - take me for who I am.”

You kick his shoe again. “Steve.”

Steve looks at you and his brows knit together again. “What?”

You search your head for the words, eyes locked on his. “Some of your friends love you like ... that.”

Steve inclines his head, shaking it slightly. “Well - who?”

You want to come clean - the confession sits right there at the base of your throat. It’s begging to come out, even if it makes no sense, even if he throws it back in your face. But you're looking at him, and there’s no adoration in his gaze like he has when he talks about Nancy or other girls. There’s just confusion. 

“I don’t remember,” you whisper. It’s a lame lie.

Steve kicks your shoe with his, now. “Come on, who?”

You stare back at him. 

Steve gets it now.

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Shit,” he continues.

“Um - I’m just saying,” you say, throat painfully dry. “I’m just saying. Some people love you for you. And you should, too.”

You move your gaze to the coffee table, but Steve’s eyes just bore into your cheek. His gaze is hot on you - you feel like screaming. Finally, he says, “Thanks.”

It’s all he knows to say. 

“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Yeah, anytime, dude.”

Your words and confession weigh heavily on him, making his shoulders sag. He pulls himself off of your couch, his face pale as he looks down at you. “I - go. Have to work.”

“I hope it goes fast.”

“Me, too.”