#(I fucking hate that word but the algorithm loves it so I gotta do what I gotta do)

[crazymuffin1]

more or less the full tiktok situation

okay so im not tinfoil hatting because its pretty obvious when you think about it

2020 trump wants tiktok banned im pretty sure the people who overlooked the whole spiel thought that there wasnt anything wrong with it and it and continued on as normal

then for some curious reason the stupidest most tech incompetent people of the congress are part of the hearing with classics such as asking the ceo 10 different ways of "are you chinese" making the viewer think that the next question is going to be whether or not the CEO has ever eaten chinese food. there are of course the other classics (and these are all real questions) "does tiktok read your brainwaves when you put on headphones" "does it record your eyes dilating to figure out what videos to boost via the algorithm" "does tiktok access your home wi-fi network" "are you chinese" "if you turn on airplane mode while in a plane, can tiktok talk to the plane"

im not making this up. these are real actual questions. its not word for word but im not changing the meaning of the questions it really was that bad

then of course beause they took the dumbest people in the congress they made a rule that basically boils down to "apps from countries we dont like have to be owned by america" (so we can censor it) (this is while also being racist towards china and yknow being all 'china censorship bad!')

now there hasnt been an official announcement of tiktok having been bought, BUT!

while it was down for americans, these messages appeared

message 1 ID: Sorry, Tiktok isn't available right now A law banning TikTok has been enacted in the U.S. Unfortunately, that means you can't use TikTok for now. We are fortunate that President Trump has indicated that he will work with us on a solution to reinstate TikTok once he takes office. Please stay tuned! End ID oh yeah the same trump that got it banned in the first place, right? about 15 hours later the app is up again

Message 2 ID: Welcome Back! Thanks for your patience and support. As a result of President Trump's efforts, TikTok is back in the U.S.! You can continue to create, share, and discover all the things you love on TikTok End ID.

heres the part where you gotta put the clues together! the tiktok page of the tiktok CEO no longer has "CEO of tiktok" on his profile

facebook/instagram is all of a sudden having popups of "link to tiktok" and an official tiktok page too. if youre on tiktok you get an add facebook friends promo (this hasnt happened to everyone yet, rolling out feature)

convicted felon donald trump is holding his inauguration indoors, probably because last time he got all pissy that the crowd size was small, but you cant take aerials indoors and indoors have limited seats anyway(maybe as a last fuck you, tiktok will once again reserve a bunch of seats that are left empty? oh please do that!). also its easier to check for weapons and not have snipers when indoors, which is important when first lady elon musk is going to be there, and his fellow oligarch mark zuckerberg is also going to be there. theyre reaaal scared of the snipers since their egos are so big they become an easy target!

but we all know the drill by now. "saving" tiktok is just a failed way to make the younger generation like him. even if he set it up and everyone on tiktok knows. its also a way to make people overlook whatever this weeks war crime is going to be. probably the mass deportation. forgot to add this thing but facebook recently removed fact checkers so tiktok is probably going to have even more (worse) misinformation

TL;DR facebook is going to announce they bought tiktok any day now and give the glory to trump even though he is the reason it was banned in the first place

also as a bonus on the last day, a lot of influencers and stuff like that were having the "since we're all getting banned anyway" moment so a lot of them said stuff like "i never used the products i promoted" "i hated collabing with this creator" "i was never xyz" people who did masked thirst traps (male presenting) were women all along. and then 15 hours later theyre unbanned and have to be like... yep...so that just happened.

anyway tiktok was one of the last few places people got news that werent completely filtered through the right wing lens of whoever owned the newspaper. even if there was a lot of misinfo. think of the ceo shooter and think of how the media portrayed it vs the people. "rich man is murdered in cold blood by some vile monster. he was very beloved" vs "this guy is a vile human being who is responsible for millions of deaths, and he was finally killed"

[preciousangel222]

[sumiez]

so.. hear me out.. you know how kurt says he’s “all about love” on his stream? how about reader is almost as unhinged as he is, showing up to every stream and viewing every video. they understand and worship the lesson. now that he’s all about love reader is too and tries to get him to love them back

- n.e

paparazzi | kurt kunkle

warnings: typical spree stuff, obsessions, hit and runs, makeout sessions

a/n: first kurt request.. i hope i did him justice!! love the idea btw i love when readers are just as cuckoo as him

to call yourself obsessed with kurtsworld96 is a grave understatement. you weren't sure exactly how you discovered such an obscure influencer, it was likely youtube's algorithm being generous, but it was one of the best things to ever happen to you.

every video of his would receive a like from you. every stream would result in you two chatting about anything and everything before it inevitably ends with his mom calling him down for dinner. but that was the extent of your relationship—a fan and content creator.

you're enamoured with the idea of becoming his number one fan, his ride or die, his most loyal follower. every time he greets you on stream your heart soars.

once he began the lesson, however, you became determined to meet him. a real, genuine meeting, and you were going to win him over for good. you worship the lesson, it's not staged prank content like his friend bobby, it's real. it's gritty. and, in your opinion, incredibly attractive.

who cares about the people you left behind to travel all the way to outside LA. kurt is all that matters in your lovesick state.

opening the gogo app, you frantically search for kurt's description. according to his stream, he should be searching for unlucky victims right about now, despite spree being suspended.

you're about to grow frustrated until you see your saviour's profile appear. you couldn't possibly be happier.

immediately requesting a ride, you fish out your handcrafted, shoddily made kurtsworld hat and drop it onto the top of your head. you cannot wait to see the look on his face when he catches you adorning it.

after a few minutes of listening to him ramble to the camera about how he's surprised no passengers have recognized him, you hear him announce that he thinks he has his eyes on the prize—you.

you enter the stolen vehicle with a skip in your step, except this time you find comfort in the passenger seat.

"whoa whoa w—hey, wait, is that a..?" he stammers out, initially apprehensive at your choice of seating but you see him ease up once he notices your headwear.

"yes, kurt, i'm literally your biggest fan," you answer breathlessly, showing off your hat to the camera. "i loved watching you kill all those jerks, but now that you're all about love it's even better, you know? i've been watch—"

you're interrupted by kurt laughing out of pure glee. he's never felt this loved before. "holy shit you guys, we actually ... we have a real fan in the house," he trips over his own words out of unfiltered excitement. he made it. fuck his other tens of thousands of viewers, this person, this angel, is all that matters.

the two of you spend what feels like an eternity chatting, just like old times.

"what's your favourite video i've made?" he asks, and if your vision isn't deceiving you, he's blushing. hard.

"gotta be your horror movie reviews. i liked you before the lesson too. but your water bottle tutorial was really useful too, i know a few people who really need to drink one." you reply instantly, as if you planned out the whole conversation.

in truth, you did rehearse your answers to certain questions, you're infatuated with your plan to impress kurt and win him over. some may call you unhinged, but you're the kind of person who'd do anything for love.

the chat isn't too fond of your friendly behaviour with each other. they're begging for something gory to happen, and honestly, a death at kurt's hand isn't something you'd hate that much.

he listens for their pleas to start driving and places his hands on the wheel. "you want to go to the...construction site, right...?" he asks with a raised brow.

"yeah! i loved the gummy bear part of the stream, i'd love to check the place out myself." a smile graces his features in response to your words. he's still shocked that someone actually likes his content enough to spend time with him.

as you drive down the bumpy road, he pipes up. "so, like, what's your handle? i'll follow you back,"

"we've been mutuals for years, kurt."

"wait, you're—" he repeats your username, the one person other than bobby who continuously tunes into his content. "damn. that's so cool. it was always...neat seeing you pop in,"

you perk up as your face grows warm, "you really think so? it means a lot."

"of... of course i think so. i couldn't have done it without... well, you..."

as he steers, you embrace the boldness kurt gives you and you peck him on the cheek. the skin is flushed beneath your lips, and he nearly crashes at the contact.

"i... oh god, you just.. i really... i really want to.."

"look! some dumbass is crossing the street! hit them, hit them!" you jump out of your seat and point towards a middle aged man, and kurt speeds up.

he's so flustered that he's still registering the kiss, but he complies, hitting the pedestrian with a bone—chilling thump.

his viewers are growing every second, the chat congratulating him for getting some action, while others toss insults at the life you two just ended.

"our first kill," you say as you two lock eyes and he has the giddiest grin on his face.

finally reaching your destination, he opens the driver side door and does a loop around the car to open yours. such a gentleman.

with his clammy hand in yours, you step out.

"sooo, this is the spot where i ran that douchebag over," he points around the area, shuffling his feet. "i can... show you the junkyard with the dogs too, if you want."

you nod enthusiastically, "i'd love to see that."

"great, great. uhh.." as he thinks of what to say next, you approach him. draping your arms around his neck, you press a kiss to his chapped lips. he can't help but groan at your touch, never having kissed anybody like this before.

he instinctively pulls you off.

"i... that was..."

"nice?"

"yeah. nice. do you wanna take this to my...back to my car, or something?" nodding again at his words, you reach for his hand again and stroll to the vehicle with him.

you crawl inside and kurt immediately gets comfortable on top of you, shoving his face into yours. you can tell he's inexperienced when it comes to kissing, but you return the touches, fingers finding refuge in his tufts of hair. his kisses are sloppy but passionate, his longing to be loved presenting itself in each action.

"i've always wanted to..." he mutters as he pulls away for air. "...kiss someone like that. i'm glad it was a fan and not some jerk at one of bobby's parties,"

your heart hammers in your chest as you respond with another breathless kiss. you're actually kissing your idol, and his entire stream is watching. kinda forgot about that.

without warning, a police car skids into the lot, and you and kurt exchange glances of horror.

he rushes to the driver's seat, yelling at you to put on a seatbelt as he preps for blastoff.

he peels out of the area, driving to god knows where.

"well, my little... partner in crime... do you wanna finish what we started somewhere else?"

"of course."

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[bratkook]

queen of broken hearts. jjk (m) part three.

“Tell me i’m the worst, make you cry and make you hurt, i’m the queen bow down to me, I will leave you out to bleed.”

part one. part two.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: angst but theres a happy ending yay word count: 7.4k warnings: nothing crazy this time, just mentions of the explicit polaroid photo, an attempt at infidelity, oc is still a liar who doesn’t deserve anything author’s note: ok i couldn’t not write a third part of this to tie it all up and give you guys the happy ending jk deserves so here it is, i hate this oc and love that all of you hate her too lmaooo

Jungkook glances down at his phone, seeing the text he had just sent. A simple string of letters that spelled ‘i’m outside’, a familiar pattern his fingers had memorized. Except for the first time in a very long time the text wasn’t being sent to you.

The device pings with a response from Taehyung, stating he was on his way down, so he locks it once more and sets it underneath his radio in his car. Jungkook grunts as he catches on to the lyrics ringing in his car and skips the song currently playing, it was one of your favorite songs and once he listened to the lyrics he felt like it was a direct jab at him, especially when you had asked him to download it with that same smile that lead to heartbreak. That didn’t stop him doing as you asked, just because you liked it so much.

The amount of times the song I Feel Bad by Blackbear had played in his car as he left your place had nudged it up the algorithm, making his phone constantly play it when he shuffled all of his songs. He needed to fully delete it from his library.

Jungkook had to admit he was doing pretty good, it was going on 6 weeks and you were still blocked from his instagram. He had even gone as far as making his page private to prevent you from lurking, he doubted you’d go to that extent though, not as desperate to see Jungkook’s life play out without you in it. Surely you had moved on to the next shiny toy.

The only thing he had yet to do was block your number, the small no dignity having part of him hoped that maybe you’d reach out, maybe you’d apologize for anything and everything, maybe you’d wake up and realize how you truly felt for him.

That never happened.

Your thread of messages was bone dry, taunting him in his inbox so much he had to delete it all to stop himself from typing out a message at 3am in sheer desperation. He wouldn’t be reaching out and it was clear you wouldn’t be either.

“Hey man.” Taehyung greets him as he pulls the passenger door open, sliding in with ease and slamming it shut behind him. Jungkook blinks back to reality, giving his friend a small smile as they shake their hands in the playful way they always did.

“Jimin’s not with you?” He wonders, expecting the other boy to have come down with him since they all had plans together.

Taehyung shakes his head as he settles into the seat, adjusting his messy hair in the visor and buckling up just as Jungkook pulls out of the parking spot. “Nah, he’s at his apartment. He told you he’s bringing someone with him right?”

Jungkook frowns at that because no, Jimin hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone along with him and he really hoped it wasn’t a girl. The last thing he wanted was to be subjected to seeing them swap spit when they were meant to be having a guys day. It seemed a little stupid for Jungkook to hope for that but he had grown to appreciate spending more time with his friends lately, once again realizing just how much of his time you had consumed, always ditching the plans he had with his friends to go get his dick wet and his heart shredded.

“It’s some guy that just started working with him.” Taehyung fills in, taking the initiative to be in charge of the music because Jungkook’s current mix was sort of depressing. He frowns as he scrolls through the artists, choosing to type someone in to play music that wasn’t in his library.

When the beginning sounds of a hit Bad Bunny song fill the car Jungkook nearly swerves as he whips his head to stare at Taehyung bobbing along, “Since when the fuck do you know spanish?”

“I don’t, you just gotta vibe along.” He proves his statement by proceeding to horribly sing along in broken spanish, but his energy is contagious, spreading to Jungkook until he was eventually dancing along with him. The two of them making up their own moves on the short drive to Jimin’s and Taehyung can’t help but feel successful at making his friend have a good time. It had been a while since Jungkook behaved like his usual self.

Him and Jimin still didn’t know about you but after he had decided to block you he had fallen into a tiny pit of despair, returning to the shell of himself that they had seen during the weeks you had ghosted him. It took a lot of coaxing before they were able to pull him out, not asking any questions about anything no matter how much their curiosity itched.

They knew their best friend was hurting so they tried their best to do whatever they could to make it better, constantly reaching out to drag him out of his one bedroom apartment, making plans he couldn’t say no to, being the best wing men they could whenever they hit up bars. It had worked though, they had managed to fill up the small you shaped void inside of him enough for him to be able to ignore.

He never really thought of you until he was completely alone, usually when the sky was the darkest and he had trouble sleeping, remembering the countless nights you’d text him to come over when you were also restless. On nights like that he’d force himself to take a sleeping aid, not wanting flashbacks of you underneath him to wear down his strength when he had been doing so well.

So far so good.

“Is this Bad Bunny?” Jimin instantly asks when he enters the car, having already been waiting outside of his complex with his friend beside him.

“Yeah!” Taehyung laughs, turning the volume up slightly.

Jimin just shakes his head as he slides over in his seat, giving Jungkook a similar greeting before his friend follows suit. He’s a silver haired guy with sharp eyes, a small smile being sent Jungkook’s way as Jimin introduces him. “Oh, this is Yoongi, he just became Jamba Juice’s newest bitch.”

Taehyung shoots him a sympathetic look, he had worked along side Jimin a few months ago before quitting in a fit of rage so he knew how unpleasant the job was. “My condolences.”

Yoongi just chuckles, nodding in acceptance, not attempting to deny that the job was hell on earth but it paid alright so he’d just suck it up. “Jimin never shuts up about the two of you at work.”

Jungkook laughs at that as he starts to drive once more, wondering just what Jimin said about them while on the clock, they had all been friends for years so he really had an infinite amount of stories to bring up.

Whatever he had said about them must have been good enough because Yoongi fits right in, balancing out Taehyung’s crude sense of humor with his own, being made aware of some of the inside jokes they all had together and continuing them with ease.

Jungkook begins thinking that he wouldn’t mind Yoongi becoming a part of their group, he had a pretty easy going personality and didn’t protest when Taehyung ended up dragging all of them to some random flea market near by.

Unfortunately it all slowly starts to crumble on the drive towards the restaurant Jimin wanted to try.

“Hey Jungkook, do you have a phone charger?” Jimin asks from the back seat, glaring at the dwindling percentage on his phone due to him now being in charge of the music selection because Taehyung was adamant on playing reggaeton and they were all sick of it.

Jungkook hums in confirmation, too busy staring at his own phone screen for the directions to notice that Jimin was already opening up his center console to grab the cord that he knew was always there.

The photo that greets him as he opens it up definitely isn’t always there though, the shiny polaroid of you looking directly into the lens stares right at Jimin and he immediately recognizes you as the girl from the diner.

“Woah, this is dirty Kook.” He laughs out, trying his best to avert his eyes from the salacious photo and pull out the charger he was originally searching for.

“What?” Taehyung asks, peeking over and gasping obnoxiously when he spots the photo too. He’s not as caring as Jimin is, grabbing the photo from the edges and bringing it up close and personal to his face for a better view.

“Who the fuck is this?” He asks as he stares at the picture with a goofy smile on his face. He tilts the polaroid side to side to look through the glare the sun provides but the raunchy act caught on film is clear as day. Jungkook carries a photo of some girl sucking his dick in his car, what a perv.

Jungkook finally looks up and when he sees the polaroid in Taehyung’s hand he feels his heart drop, reaching across and trying to snatch it but he falls short. Taehyung scoots further in his seat, holding the photo higher up and screaming when the car swerves as Jungkook lurches across his seat and tries to reach for it once more.

“It’s just some girl.” Jungkook grunts as he steadies the car again, his face burning hot as he hears Jimin laughing along in the backseat. Leave it to his friends to act like they’ve never seen more explicit photos, parading it around like it’s the first x-rated polaroid they’ve ever seen as if they didn’t have a collection of ridiculous porn bookmarked onto their phones.

The way Taehyung’s currently holding the photo up gives Yoongi a clear view of it and as his eyes lock onto yours he tilts his head slightly. What was Jungkook doing with a photo of you, covered in cum with his dick in your mouth.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jimin teases, placing his hands on his shoulders and laughing louder when Jungkook finally snatches the photo from his friends grasp, swatting the side of his head for good measure before stuffing it back into the center console and slamming it shut.

“No, she’s mine.” Yoongi finally speaks up, leaning back into his seat and staring at the back of Jungkook’s head as he drove. A small smile is on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, the entire car falling into a dead silence, no one wanting to break it until they knew how serious this was. 

Taehyung is half expecting this to become a world star beat down whereas Jimin can’t tell if he’s joking or not, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook. He sort of wishes he had never asked for a charger now.

Jungkook can’t get himself to say anything, his fingers gripping his steering wheel tighter as his mind starts to spin, desperately waiting for the joking laughter to ensue but it never comes.

Could he really be your boyfriend? Had you been with Yoongi even when you were going on dates with Namjoon or was Yoongi new. Then came the twist of the knife when he realizes that if Yoongi was new, filling in Jungkook’s shoes now that he was gone, you had seen him in a better light than you’d ever see Jungkook in, making him your boyfriend in a few weeks when Jungkook’s known you for years.

“Why do you have a photo of Y/N giving you head?” Yoongi asks, a little caught off guard by the situation. The two of you weren’t officially dating yet but considering he had met your family it felt a little unnerving to see a photo of you like that with someone that wasn’t him.

He’s not upset at Jungkook, he can see how flustered he is, but he needed some form of explanation before he filed you under cheater in his mind.

“It’s an old photo.” Jungkook can barely get out, wanting to shrivel up at the awkward tension filling up the car.

“How old?”

“Over a month ago.” That admittedly wasn’t that old and it doesn’t do much to settle Yoongi’s uncertainty but he decides not to push it, the only person who needed to explain was you.

“I can toss the photo if you want me to.” Jungkook suggests, he had forgotten about the photo after he stuffed it into the center console when he left your house and although he would like to keep it, now that the cat was out of the bag and your new boy of interest had seen it, he felt a little wrong holding on to it. What were the fucking odds.

Yoongi shakes his head, it was a photo taken from your camera and you obviously knew it was being taken, if Jungkook wanted to keep it for whatever weird reason that was his call, for all he knew Jungkook was one of your exes. 

“Just maybe don’t keep it in your car man.” Yoongi suggests, his fingers itching by his side with the want to text you for an explanation but he knows he needs to play his cards right to get an actual answer from you.

Jungkook takes Yoongi’s suggestion as a demand, the second he gets back home after they finished hanging out he pockets the photo once more and decides to shove the photo deep into his underwear drawer. Hopefully it’s something he’ll forget about and stumble upon in a few years and not feel the same gutted emotions he does now.

Jungkook knows he’s only hurting himself further by allowing a fragile string to continue to tie the two of you together but its the small tinge of hope that maybe one day he’d feel a tug from the string in your direction that prevents him from snipping it.

As he lays in bed he feels a similar dark shadow start to fall over him, reminiscent to the one that had nearly swallowed him whole weeks ago. The only plus side to this was that he now knew that you had moved on, something that should help him think straight, not let his memories get warped until you’re seen as this sweet angel that never did him any wrong.

The other plus side was that he didn’t get his ass beat by Yoongi, the boy had swept it under the rug and went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. He was unaware that Yoongi was at your place now with Jungkook being the topic of discussion.

Yoongi was currently trying his best to not burn a hole in your floor as he paced back and forth on your carpet with you staring at him looking as comfortable as ever on your bed. How you looked like that when he had just interrogated you on your relationship with the other boy was beyond him.

He wasn’t even sure if you were lying to him or not, your answers seemed too practiced to be truthful, too thought out for him to fully believe. The second he had brought Jungkook up it was like your brain went into autopilot and the perfect answers he was looking for just spilled out.

But somewhere along the line you said something that rubbed him the wrong way, a phrase that made him double take when you implied that Jungkook meant absolutely nothing to you, how it was all fun and games and Yoongi didn’t buy that for a second. The defeated look on Jungkook’s face throughout the rest of the day showed Yoongi how he felt and it sure as hell didn’t look like absolutely nothing.

Even if you and Jungkook weren’t serious, the way you were speaking about him, with no sympathy or regard to how he felt it made Yoongi a little uncomfortable. Had you said that Jungkook was horrible, treated you like garbage or anything that warranted this sort of reaction he could understand but you just seemed so emotionless.

“You don’t care about him?” Theres been an evil glint in your eye ever since Yoongi mentioned Jungkook, the slight anger you felt at him treating you how you treated him resurfacing at his name. You don’t even know why he’s asking you this, did he want you to say you didn’t care about him to boost his own ego or did he want you to say you did to see if your feelings lied deeper?

“Why should I?” Your tone is cold and Yoongi is a little caught off guard at how quickly you’re able to turn off the bubbly personality he had been drawn to in the beginning.

“I mean considering you let him photograph you sucking his dick I’m not really buying this whole facade you have going on right now.”

A small laugh fills the room and Yoongi can only stare at you, briefly wondering if this was some sort of joke because the way you’re acting now is the polar opposite to the you he’s known for the past month. You just found the situation laughable, you always covered your tracks, careful enough to not trip over your own lies but your edge must be wearing off.

“There’s no facade.” You reply calmly, hoping the soft look in your eyes is convincing enough for him but it’s not. Yoongi knows he must be on to something, the minute he brought Jungkook up he saw the way your demeanor changed and now he wasn’t sure if you were just down right heartless or playing it off.

“You honestly don’t have any empathy for other people do you?” He shoots out, looking directly at you and seeing the way your eyes lose their sweetness, narrowing in size as you try your best not to glare at him but he can see right through it. He can tell he’s digging a little too close to uncharted territory but he was sick of the mystery that was you, never knowing where anything stood because you were too selfish to think of other people’s emotions due to your actions.

“Is that really what you’re focused on.”

“Yeah, a little.” He scoffs in disbelief, “I don’t really want to find out my girlfriend’s a fucking sociopath years down the line.”

You laugh again at that, leaning back on your arms as you sit on your bed, “Girlfriend?” The look you give him makes him stumble over his words for the first time, realizing that you hadn’t ever put a label on what you were and now feeling a little embarrassed by your condescending tone.

You honestly don’t even know why you react the way you do, you actually liked Yoongi, could see this becoming something serious, but the way he was exposing your faults, making you see the parts of you that desperately needed work, it rubbed you the wrong way so you needed to knock him down a few pegs. A classic self sabotaging move you always did, not being able to bite down the hurtful words you knew you’d throw his way.

“You think I’m your girlfriend?” You ask, only rubbing salt onto the slowly opening wound and he almost winces but he can see that this is your defense mechanism so he doesn’t let it burn as much as he knows it should.

“Is that what you’re gonna turn this into?” He counters, a displeased look on his face, “Trying to hurt my feelings because I’m asking you pretty justified questions is a low blow Y/N.”

That shuts you up, the next batch of spiteful words you were ready to shoot his way dissolving on your tongue when you see the way he looks at you. You’d expect him to be angry, visibly upset at what you had said but instead he just looks tired.

“Look, I obviously struck a nerve bringing him up because this–“ he motions to you, making you realize how tense your body had become, “isn’t the you I know, so whenever you decide to put your fangs away and talk about your buried emotions let me know.”

You don’t even know how to respond to the way he shut you down with ease, your eyes only showing more of your confusion when he steps forward and kisses the top of your head, “Goodnight.” Is all he says before turning around to leave your room and apartment altogether.

“Goodnight.” You weakly mumble out as he shuts the door behind him, completely throwing you off the course of events you were sure were about to transpire.

The anger you felt inside slowly starts to fizzle out until all you feel is sick, a pit of disgust brewing inside of you at the way you had behaved. Not just with him but with Jungkook.

This had become a regular feeling for you ever since Jungkook decided to throw you aside, being the main reason you had decided to hold on to Yoongi when you had met him by chance, needing something to distract you so the guilt you felt wouldn’t drive you into doing something you knew you’d regret.

The amount of times you wanted to reach out to him during these last few weeks was concerning for you, never really realizing just how much you relied on him when you needed to get out of your head. The slow clarity that he had always been quick to come to you and offer help in any way he could while you always shut him down, diverting questions when he’d ask what was wrong because you were scared of him getting too close, all it had done was burn him.

You had left him scarred and wounded as he laid on his bed, contemplating smothering himself with his pillow as he regretted his life choices that landed him in this situation. It’s the selfish side of you that has you opening up your phone and calling his number without a second thought, you keep it on speaker and toss it on the bed, half expecting it to go directly to voicemail since you were sure he had blocked your number too, but it continues to ring.

Jungkook nearly bolts up in shock when the phone by his head starts to vibrate and light up, his squinting eyes staring at the screen and freezing when he sees your name displayed on it. He feels like he stops breathing as his phone buzzes on his comforter, it was now clear that Yoongi had in fact brought him up to you and he was pretty sure if he answered the phone it would not go in his favor.

He lets it ring until it eventually goes to voicemail, his phone dimming down once more and he finally relaxes. It only lasts a brief moment, his phone buzzing once more with a text this time and he doesn’t want to open it.

Instead he grabs the device and stuffs it in between his mattress and box spring, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before sliding back into bed and forcing himself to sleep.

It doesn’t come easy for either of you, he’s constantly tossing and turning on his bed, having to shove his hands under his butt to get them to stop creeping toward the side his phone was tucked under. You on the other hand are constantly checking your phone when you wake up every few minutes, phantom rings pulling you from your slumber and hoping Jungkook responded to your text but every time you blindly stare at the brightness of your screen you’re met with nothing, not even the read display that usually appeared.

It’s not until the sun peaks over the horizon, the soft orange illuminating the inside of Jungkook’s room and waking him up, that he feels his resolve cracking. He tries to blame it on his half asleep state, not being awake enough to know right from wrong but he’s way too aware of the way his fingers move and latch on to his device as he pulls it from its hiding spot.

It takes him a moment to build up the courage to open up your message, half expecting a massive paragraph with you telling him off for whatever reason but the only thing that greets him is a short ‘can we talk please’.

He’s not sure what makes him wary, the fact that you want to talk or you using the word please. Jungkook’s fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure if he should even respond to you. This was what he wanted though isn’t it? The main reason he had decided not to block your number, hoping you’d reach out and explain yourself. But now that you had done the first half he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it through.

Still, his fingers take over and type out a quick response.

jungkook 7:49am : talk about what

The buzzing wakes you up instantly, your phone clutched to your chest in the same position you had fallen asleep in with the hope that he’d respond.

It’s a little surprising to see that he doesn’t immediately agree like he normally does, dropping whatever he was doing to come to your place like he used to but you guess it was called for.

y/n 7:50am : i just want to clear the air

y/n 7:50am : do you wanna have breakfast?

He hates that he feels the tiniest spark of excitement inside of him at you asking him out for breakfast, something he had been wanting forever, but his fingers shake too much as he holds the device, his body reminding him of the withdraws he had already gone through once before. He couldn’t do this again.

jungkook 7:54am : i don’t think thats a good idea

You can only stare at your screen, not knowing how to respond to his message. It was your own selfish desire to fix things, to help ease the guilt off your chest, that made you want to persuade him to do what you asked but when your phone vibrates a second time you know his mind is set and it’s best to leave it alone.

jungkook 7:57am : please don’t message me again, it’s better this way.

You once again feel the familiar twist in your chest, more so when you respond with a simple okay and your bubble turns green before a notification pops up stating the message could no longer be delivered. Jungkook had been the one to weld the chest shut this time, blocking your number to finalize it before locking his phone once more and begging himself to go about his day as if the curiosity of what you wanted to tell him wasn’t eating him alive.

“Jungkook you need oyster sauce and soy sauce, they’re not interchangeable!” Jimin scolds when Jungkook places the oyster sauce back onto the self, his hand once again swiping it off and placing it into the basket he was currently holding.

“Damn sorry, I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” Jungkook groans, giving his friend a pout that goes ignored because he’s too focused on running through the list he had on his phone to ensure nothing was forgotten.

Jimin was in charge of helping Jungkook out today on his date, it was Valentines day and Jungkook had been dating his girlfriend for a few months now and wanted to make this date a little more special than just eating out. However, he wasn’t blessed with culinary skills so Jimin would be helping him out throughout it all and making a swift exit before his girlfriend would arrive for dinner.

Jungkook wanders off when he notices Jimin is still hyper focused on the array of sauces lined up in this aisle, ending up in the makeshift Valentines day aisle set up, the plush toys in pink and red all holding candies with cute sayings sewn on to the heart on their chests. It seemed too easy to just pick one up and settle with that so he gives himself a mission to do while Jimin finishes up the essentials.

He roams the entire store, grabbing a lavender wired bucket with enough of his girlfriend’s favorite candies to fill the bottom of it, along with that comes an elephant plushie that happened to be her favorite animal. Jungkook had spotted a bouquet of sunflowers by the front of the store so he makes his way in that direction once more, passing by Jimin who was looking for him but continuing on in his trek.

Just as he grabs the bouquet he wanted he hears his name being called and for a moment he thinks he imagined it, not being able to place the voice it belonged to but when it repeats itself much closer he turns around.

Jungkook is even more caught off guard when he spots your brother, looking nothing like the shy and awkward 13 year old he was back then. He hadn’t seen him since he stopped tutoring him nearly four years ago but he recognized the eyes that he shared with you.

“Jihoon?” He questions, smiling when the younger boy nods. He had always looked up to Jungkook, practically idolized him when he was tutoring him, wanting to be him in every aspect. Jungkook had been everything a nerdy 13 year old boy would want to be, adopting a similar clothing style to him that had managed to still stick around with age.

“I saw you and just had to come say hey.” Jihoon says, pulling him in for a typical bro hug.

Jimin huffs as he reaches Jungkook, having chased him down the aisles and finally catching up to him. He gives the younger boy a wave, a little confused as to who he is but when he hears your voice and spots you, it all clicks in his mind.

“Jihoon c’mon, we need to grab what dad wants!” You shout from the end of the aisle, not wanting to approach Jungkook to save yourself the embarrassment. You were still completely blocked off of everything, no form of communication happening between the two of you since that night. The town you lived in was small so it was kind of inevitable that you’d run in to him eventually but having it be today of all days, with him holding up Valentine’s day items just made it all a little more sour.

He looks up at the sound of your voice and gives you a faint smile because thats just who he is, it doesn’t pain him to look at you now though, the small void you had left inside of him nearly patched all the way up with time and distance.

“I know, but look who it is.” Your brother announces, completely unaware that you and Jungkook had very much stayed in contact after he finished tutoring him. You knew who it was, you were very familiar with Jungkook’s face and could probably spot the back of his head in a crowd.

“Hi Jungkook.” You muster out, slowly making your way down the aisle towards them because you knew your brother wouldn’t back off unless you came over and greeted his old tutor.

“How are things with Yoongi?” Jimin speaks up, a knife slicing through the tension and a knowing look on his face as he stares you down. He knew that you and Yoongi were no longer together, having to be the ear Yoongi vented to with all of your problems while at work and while hanging out, knowing that Yoongi had tried his best to make it work but you had been too stubborn, too stuck in your ways to even budge. Jimin knew enough about you now to be able to connect the dots to the way Jungkook had been so torn months prior. You were a bitch and he didn’t like you.

“Oh, we broke up.” You utter out, an odd look on your face because you had no idea who Jimin was or how he knew both Yoongi and Jungkook but you figure thats irrelevant now, staring back at Jungkook and seeing a neutral expression on his face.

Jihoon, not being able to read the room, asks Jungkook if hes buying groceries for a Valentines date tonight and Jungkook shyly confirms it, teasingly asking Jihoon if he had a date tonight as well. “Nah, haven’t hooked anyone onto me yet. Y/N and I are just helping our dad make something for our mom tonight.”

“Yeah speaking of that, we need to get going Jihoon.” You hope your brother can sense your tone, your fingers tempted to grab onto his hair and yank him away, needing him to move along and let you get as far from Jungkook as possible. That sinking feeling in your stomach had returned, only worsening when you realized how good he was doing, how unaffected he was at seeing you.

“Right, anyways, have a nice night with your girlfriend.” He sings with a playful wave as he retreats from the aisle to go back to shopping. You linger a little at the end of the aisle and stare at him for a moment longer, a small wave being sent his way that he reciprocates with a smile.

“Isn’t she polaroid girl?” Jimin grunts out as he readjusts the basket he was holding, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Jungkook mumbles out, continuing to stare at the end of the aisle where you had disappeared, the polaroid being a distant memory in his mind after he had burned it.

“Babe,” Jungkook laughs into the receiver of his phone, resting against the cool exterior of the bar all of his friends were in, “I promise there wont be a repeat of last time.”

“That laugh means trouble Jungkook,” Sooyoung giggles back, already mentally preparing to baby Jungkook back to health when he undoubtably arrives home absolutely hammered, “If I have to hold your hand while you barf up everything and refuse water again I’m filing for divorce!”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand placed over his heart as he hears the way his wife snickers, “Less than a month after and you’re already calling it quits?”

Sooyoung just hums along, sat on the couch of their house and flicking through the channels to find something to watch while their dog laid snuggled up by her feet, “Thats just how to cookie crumbles, unless,” she pauses, mentally picturing the way Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he waits, “you hold my hand while I barf next week when I go out with the girls.”

“You run a tough bargain, but I’ll even hold your hair back hows that?”

“Sounds perfect, be safe Kookie. I love you.” She smiles as the words leave her mouth, the fluttering affect he had on her never fading even after all this time.

“Always, I love you too.” He blushes as he makes a kissy noise, smiling wide when he hears one back before ending the call and and makes his way back inside, instantly spotting his friends gathered around the booth they had managed to snag.

When he makes his way over to them he slides in beside Taehyung, squishing him and Hobi into the booth and hearing them groan in protest.

“Are you done confessing your profound love for Sooyoung?” Jimin teases before throwing back a shot of vodka, he was already very loosened up, this being the second bar they visited due to celebrating Jimin’s wedding in a week.

“Shut up, as if I didn’t catch you literally on the verge of tears in the bathroom as you talked to Daehyun earlier.” Jungkook smiles when Jimin zips his mouth and locks it with an imaginary key, not denying any but of information Jungkook just spilled out. The rest of his friends howl in laughter at the secret, riling him up further and Jungkook decides his job here is done, getting up to order another drink and another round of shots for everyone else.

He leans over the counter and grabs the bar tenders attention with a soft wave of his hand, “Can I get a whiskey sour and another round of shots of tequila.” The woman nods, already having his card on a tab and begins making the drinks for him.

Jungkook settles into one of the stools there, getting comfortable as he waits, not yet sensing the eyes currently staring a hole through his temple from a few seats away.

You had spotted Jungkook walking in with his friends earlier, watching him step out for a phone call before coming back in again. He looked a little different from the last time you saw him, his hair a little longer now with a slight wave to it as it reached his cheekbones. The last time you had seen him was in passing at the same grocery store a few months ago, you had managed to duck into an aisle before he spotted you, being none the wiser that you were hiding from him.

Jungkook starts to feel the burning from his side of someone staring, slowly turning his head until his eyes meet your stunned ones. You expect him to look away, pretend he doesn’t know you and try to hide like you always do but instead he smiles at you, waving you over like you were an old friend of his.

It takes a few moments of building up courage before you get up from your spot and move across the three stools that separated you two with your drink in your hand.

“Hey, how have you been?” He asks with a soft grin, thanking the bar tender as she places his drink and the line of shots in front of him.

“I’ve been alright, Jihoon just moved out of state for work so my parents have been extra needy without someone to baby.” You force a smile back at him, your finger tracing the rim of your glass as you beg the awkwardness to leave, not used to having the underhand in situations like this.

“He’s gonna do great things I’m sure.” Jungkook sighs, taking a sip of his drink and humming at the taste. Looking at him now was like looking at an entirely different person, sure he had the same face but the way he carried himself was a stark contrast to the Jungkook you were accustomed to from three years ago, no longer second guessing himself, instead speaking with an aura of confidence and ease surrounding him.

“You know he never shut up about you once you stopped tutoring him?” You laugh, seeing the smile spreading on Jungkook’s face, “I remember that one time he begged my parents to buy him that one yellow jacket you own, he had to get straight A’s all semester before they got it for him and he never took it off.”

A genuine smile spreads across your lips as you reminisce on the times before, how you had taken them for granted and now seemed to grasp at anything that reminded you of it.

“We had something good going before, I’m sorry for ruining it.”

That catches Jungkook off guard, setting his drink down with a soft thud as he looks over at you fully, “I guess that depends what you consider good.” He jokes, proud that he can make light of a situation that used to leave him feeling wounded.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You cringe, not yet having the luxury of the past not affecting you. He watches on as you take a big gulp of your drink, wiping the excess that drips down your lip with your fingers.

“Don’t be, it’s water under the bridge.” He reassures you, reaching across the small gap between you two and placing his hand over yours when he notices the small trembles of nerves making them shake.

Your hand turns in his grasp, your fingers wrapping around his large ones in a search for comfort. The intentions you originally had when you first spot him leave you as your thumb traces the black band around his ring finger, a clear sign that he was off the market for good, making the words spoil in your mouth as you hold them back.

“Oh, when did this happen?” You ask softly, letting his hand go as he brings it up to spread his fingers out with a proud look on his face.

“About a month ago, I managed to trick someone into marrying me.” He jokes, a glimmer in his eyes as he recalls the day of his wedding, the happiness swelling his heart when he thinks of coming home to Sooyoung after the night is over.

“You never needed to trick someone into marrying you Kookie.” The sound of his nickname doesn’t feel right coming out of your mouth now, like nails to a chalkboard, no longer making his stomach flutter the way it used to.

“It felt like I did.” He admits with a shrug, remembering the years of him pining over you, making a fool of himself for the off chance that’d you one day see him for what he was worth. But like he said, it was all water under the bridge and seeing you here was a welcomed surprise to him now.

You want to say more to him but your tongue gets tied up, no longer having the list of phrases you were going to use when you spotted him. Jungkook catches on to the discomfort growing within you so he downs the rest of his drink to free his hands to be able to carry the shots to his thirsty friends.

“It was good seeing you.” His eyes are sincere as he stares at you for the last time, “I’ll see you around.” You know thats the truth, no doubt would you two run in to each other once more but you know this will be the closest interaction you’ll have. He still had you blocked on everything even years later, not knowing a single piece of information on you and leaving you in the dark about his. But this was just the way things were meant to be.

“Yeah, good seeing you too Jungkook.” You whisper out, watching him as he grasps the shot glasses and makes his way back to his friends, hollers and cheers filling up the bar at the sight of alcohol.

Jungkook slips back into his seat, passing the glasses around to everyone and raising them up to cheer for the end Jimin as an unmarried man. As he throws back the shot, nearly having it come out through his nose when he laughs as he sees the disgusted look Taehyung makes at the taste, he can’t stop himself from looking back in your direction.

You’re still sat on the stool, finishing up the rest of your drink and signing off your tab with a grin on your face. He eyes you curiously when you put your card away, your fingers sorting through your bag before pulling out a shiny diamond ring and slipping it back onto your ring finger.

He can’t help but feel a little disappointed at his realization, having almost fallen into the same web of lies you had intricately set up for him. Staring at him and knowing he’d catch you in the act, hoping to rope him in to bed one last time but the black band on his finger had been what broke the spell, making that same pit of disgust brew inside you and fill you with guilt at what you almost did.

As you walk out, eyes landing on Jungkook’s and noticing that he had spotted your own wedding band you give him that same shamless smile he had burned into his memory before slipping out of the bar altogether, returning home to your husband who would be none the wiser.

Jungkook just shakes his head as he reaches for another shot in the center of the table and throws it back, joining in with the laughter of his friends. Taehyung jostles him around as he recalls a story from the last time they were here but Jungkook’s mind is still focused on you.

Old habits died hard and it seemed like you never had any intention of changing. You may have left him shredded in a thousand parts but he took pride in being able to say that he put himself back together on his own, and when his phone lights up with a goofy selfie of his wife and their dog he realizes he had dodged a bullet, no longer hating the string of events that lead him to where he was now.

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

only angel - roman godfrey

roman godfrey x reader

title from the harry styles song of the same name

disclaimer: i’m not trying to distract from what’s going on by posting my work. that would never be my intent. times are trying, and i’m simply trying to provide some sort of entertainment or something to do with your time. i’m not fishing for any praise of any kind, i’m just putting my work out like i usually do. i love you all and please stay safe.

notes: in other news, if you haven’t noticed, i have a posting schedule now. it used to be every friday somewhere around midday, but that wasn’t really doing much with the algorithm, so i changed it to midday thursday. and i’ll be taking a week off next week bc i’m getting my wisdom teeth removed then. (which i’m incredibly anxious about) so if i go awol for a little while, that’s why. 

also, i have almost no knowledge of alcohol! and i don’t drink! so if i don’t have some commonly known drink or bartender knowledge, please forgive me.

***********

“i’ll take an old fashioned, please.” a woman asked politely, flashing her pearly whites.

“one apple martini with no olive,” a man requested.

“can i get a scotch on the rocks?” a man with a gruff voice asked. 

you were new to this job, but you had a bit of experience, both on the bartender end and the bar attender end. you quite liked this job; the customers were fairly friendly, and you were in a much less seedy part of town than the last dive bar you worked at. you didn’t mind it, though, it gave you your thick skin, something you need in a profession like this. 

you also liked this job better because you weren’t alone. this joint in particular had more bar space than seating space, so they commissioned two bartenders to work instead of just the one. the first few days you were a little rusty, not having worked in a while, but the two of you quickly got into the swing of things. 

his name was roman godfrey, heir to the godfrey fortune, who had a much different story on how he became a bartender. coming from such a wealthy family, he of course inherited the highest position at godfrey tower, which he quickly realized was way too much work for him to handle. roman had transformed from a spoiled rich brat to someone who had more respect for people who actually had to work to keep themselves afloat, and you’d say it changed him for the better. 

somewhere along the line he’d developed a respect for women, too, probably coming from some prior bartending experience. you admired him for that, mostly because you’d hate to work with the man he used to be. 

another reason you enjoyed working with him so much was the fact that his name was so well known across the entire state of pennsylvania that nobody really liked to fuck with him. they’d much rather stay on his peaceful side, because some, more than others, had seen his aggravated side before and were not too terribly inclined to see it again. this came in handy for you when a situation similar to tonight’s had arose.

it was a stormy night, much like many spring evenings. the bar was packed tighter than usual since it was raining much too hard for anyone to leave. it was nearing last call, and you and roman were trying to close up, much to the dismay of the customers. as you were starting to stack some glasses, a greasy older man sauntered up to the bar, plopping right down on the barstool you’d just cleaned.

“i’ll take a gin and tonic, and make it snappy, i’ve gotta get home,” the man demanded, tone devoid of any politeness. “and it’d do you some good to button that up a few more times.” he gestured to your uniform that had the first couple buttons undone to show some cleavage.

“excuse me?” you stammered, flabbergasted at his frankness. you paused what you were doing, frozen in shock.

“you heard me. now make me that drink, bitch, or i’ll climb over this fucking bar and make it myself.” the man insisted.

“you have no right to say that to me.” you defended. “this is my uniform, and if it makes me more comfortable to unbutton it, then i will. i don’t need input from people like you, and you certainly don’t deserve a drink for acting like that. we’re closing anyway, it’s too late.”

you’d handled customers like this before, but they tended to be much less blatant about their sexism and disrespect than this man was. you had started drying the glasses and putting them away at a much faster pace just to get this insistent man off your ass.

“come on, no ones over here, what’s it gotta take for a guy to get a drink?” the man’s inebriation became much more obvious now as he grabbed your forearm as you reached for another glass.

“let go of me!” you shrieked, much louder than you intended. this caught the attention of quite a few other customers and, of course, roman, who quickly made his way over to you.

“exactly what the fuck do you think you’re doing here, huh?” he growled, setting his piercing gaze on the man, who quickly unhanded you.

“i asked her very kindly if she would please make me a drink, and she said no.” he swallowed nervously, the mere presence and power seeping off of roman intimidating him.

“it didn’t sound very kind to me, man. i didn’t hear any fucking ‘please and thank you’s over here.” roman replied, trying to keep his calm with the man that he wanted to hypnotize into slamming his head on the bar.

the man stayed silent, his cocky asshole persona fading into fear at the hands of mr godfrey. roman nodded at his compliance and subtly placed a hand on top of yours on the glass you were holding.

“alright sir, if you would please kindly,” he put a strong emphasis on the word. “stop bothering my friend, get the fuck out of our bar, and head the fuck home, it would be much appreciated.”

as if entranced, the man pulled his jacket back up on his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking straight into the rainstorm.

roman looked down at you and smiled his signature grin. usually that’d have your heart melting like a popsicle on a hot summer day, but you weren’t in the mood for it. the scowl on your face told him everything he needed to know.

“why the face? what did i do?” he asked genuinely. he had learned not to skip straight to defending his actions, finding that asking what his mistake was and how to fix it was a method much more popular with the ladies.

“you should’ve let me handle that myself.” you frowned, unhappy with the situation at hand.

“what? why would i do that?” he asked incredulously. “i’m not just gonna stand by and watch that cretin of a man treat you like that!”

“i know, and i thank you for that. your heart was in the right place, but you shouldn’t have stepped in.” you began. “for the longest time, almost every profession has been male-dominated, so us women get the short end of the stick when it comes to how we’re treated in the workplace.

“men have some sort of hero complex, thinking they can insert themselves into a situation they had nothing to do with and earn praise and thanks for their help that wasn’t asked for. men think that they can start confrontations with us and expect us to be silent and complient, to just sit there and take it because we’re not going to stand up for ourselves.” you watched the expression on his face morph to one of interest. “it was my situation, my job to deal with it, and my job to handle the repercussions, should there be any.

“men are accustomed to getting whatever they want, whenever they want it, and that’s got to change, and it starts with small things. small things like me, reprimanding that man for his actions and the way he spoke to me.” you took a breath. “i’m glad you recognized something was happening, but you should’ve only stepped in had things gotten more violent.”

roman looked stunned, almost like he’d gotten a slap across the face. you shouldn’t be surprised, this was usually the reaction you got from men when you tried to educate them on the trials and tribulations of women, but something was different. rather than shocked and confused as to why you would think that, he seemed more understanding of your struggles. sympathetic, even.

he stood still for a moment, as if he was a sponge absorbing all the information you’d dumped on him. “wow, i had no idea there was so much behind that. thank you for letting me know.”

“can i..?” his question trailed off as he leaned down towards you, lips meeting yours. you melted into his embrace, the weeks of yearning for this exact moment finally catching up to you. he started to pull away, but you stood on your tiptoes and chased his lips. you both pulled away breathlessly, lips wet and pink.

“wow, that was,” the rest of your thoughts fell short, but as you looked at roman it was apparent he had the same idea, whatever that may be.

“can i walk you home?” he asked, gathering his things. you nodded up to him, smiling sheepishly as he gently placed your jacket on your shoulders.

the two of you managed to close the bar for the night and fortunately, the rain had died down enough for you to head home. roman held his umbrella above both of you as you curled into his side to escape the cold chill of the rain.

he dropped you off at your place, turning to leave before you spun him around. you hopped up the first two steps and leaned down to kiss him again, easier this time since you were at his level. he smiled against you and kissed back fervently, placing a hand on the area between your neck and shoulder for some leverage.

you said your goodbyes, heading into your house, still feeling the tingling sensation where his hand was as you smiled giddily.

**********

ignore the ending i cant write endings it’s a problem

the feminist jumped out a bit sorry not sorry

i wrote almost all of this last night bc inspiration suddenly struck and i had to take advantage of it and this turned out waayyy longer than intended oopsie

tags: @emmyrosee @jadelynlace @copper-boom @babyboy-cody @goblincxnt @hecohansen31 @skrsgardspam @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @little-grunge-flowerz @manicpixiedreamguurl

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay part 12

It's dark by the time you arrive at the little cabin which is incredibly skewed towards glamping. There's trees flocking every side, and little fairy lights scattered around the porch. 

The sight is enough to make a romantic out of anyone. 

Miles wastes no time, running in, Zack on his heels, to throw himself into the first bedroom he likes, "I call the master!"

"Like hell your getting it," Zack yells, tackling Miles. 

"Should we tell them they're sharing a room," Breana asks, pouting as she takes a selfie in front of the doorway, tilting her head just right. 

Matt snorts, placing an arm around his girlfriend, and throwing the laziest peace sign up in her photos, "Let them have their fun." He smiles down at Breana with a fondness that speaks of years and years of being together. 

"I'm guessing you already know which room you want," you ask Breana whose clearly in charge here which doesn't surprise you at all. Alex doesn't own any pans at his flat and you highly doubt that Miles is any better. There's some hope that Zack isn't completely useless on his own, but then again, he's a single man in the music business. It's not a overly large hope. 

You knew enough rich men from work to know that they're usually helpless even if they're helpless in 10,000 pound suits. 

It evened out. 

"No," Breana says sweetly, having only eyes for Matt. "You take whichever room you want."

"I don't really care," you reply taking in the tastefully decorated living room. You run your hand over the sofa, noting the acrylic fabric, not yet matted down. Probably some Ikea adjacent sofa. It no longer cost an arm and a leg to have nice things, though the vintage technique would undoubtedly last longer. You'd been to many country estates, on last minitue alterations to know that. Hundred year old linens still in perfect forms. 

Estate sales were your best friend. 

"Well if you're sure," Breana replies, leveling her gaze with yours, "I'll take-," "We'll," Matts corrects. 

"We'll," Breana smiles, looking at Matt with the biggest smile on her face, "take the room with the patio."

"For the gram," you grin. 

"Gotta keep up with the algorithm." She'd already told you about her clothing brand, which was just another line of basics that you didn't really think anyone needed. Uniqlo was enough. And she'd shown you her instagram which was exactly what you imagined it too be, bright light californian influencer aesthetic, clearly influenced by minimalism which photographed very well. 

"Does that mean I should post more often than every couple of months," you tease, meeting Alex's heavy gaze, as he leans against a wall, boots still on. You could never wear shoes indoor, but you suppose it isn't your place so it doesn't matter. Your floral embroidered bag in his hand, along with his own bags. 

"Yes! We should work on your instagram while we're here," Breana offers, "there's so many cute pictures we could take."

Matt chuckles, "later."

"Later," she repeats, all heart eyed. 

You tilt your head, watching them. She was easily out of his league. And yet, here she was, actually in love with Matt, who you still couldn't puzzle out. If she was your girlfriend, you'd have pulled over at all her cute and dumb points of interest along the road. It was a road trip after all. A road trip with his girlfriend and friends, not just the lads. 

Alex tilts his head, motioning down the hallway. You can here Zack and Miles in some room fighting over what song to blast through the speakers, Miles upselling the virtues of some obscure 70s band. 

You follow Alex, half walking, half sliding along the wooden floor, artificial pine smell still in the air from when it had last been cleaned. The yeezy socks had been a gag gift from Sam for last christmas. "Isn't Arielle's wedding next month," you ask Alex, still thinking of the strung up fairy lights. 

"Why," he asks, opening the closed room. 

You switch the lights on, taking a second to play with the sliding switch. Definitely something you wanted when you finally bought a house. You'd finally made the appointment with a realtor for the week that you returned. You'd dragged your feet long enough. A thirty minute commute to work wasn't bad if you got a little garden out of it. A place to drink tea. 

"I was just thinking that she'd for sure have fairy lights. A pinterest wedding," you bit your lips, "you think pinterest sponsers influencers."

"How'd you figure she'd an influencer," Alex asks instead, putting the bags down and finally kicking his boots off as he sits down on the bed. 

You close the door, locking it for once because you didn't fancy Miles bursting in if you wanted to change. He was definitely shameless enough to not care, acting without thinking, without meaning any harm. "She had that effort effortless look," you shrug, "its basically a job to look that effortless."

Alex laughs, " 's true. But I don't really want to talk about her."

"Sorry."

"No," he says, leaning back on his hands, watching as you change into a pajama set. You'd have blushed if you hadn't changed in front of him loads of times before. Your mothers solution to body image issues, being a therapist and all, was to make you stand in front a a mirror and repeat 'I'm beautiful' before going to school every day. It had been stupid then, but clearly had worked. You didn't even mind the belly rolls you got when leaning over to pull your shorts on. "I just don't want to bother with the past anymore."

You nod, smiling over at him, "good to hear you move on."

Alex smiles back, red creeping up his cheeks. "I 'fink I've moved on a while ago actually. . .just crept up on me."

"That’s good," you tell him, looking down at the floor, wood like the rest of the cabin which was closer to a chateau. Rich people honestly. You try to shove down the hope ballooning in your chest at his words, as if you'd have any chance. His friends are here. And-you stop your train of thoughts right there, unwilling to go further like a coward. "Guess you can go out and be a proper rock star instead of being a sap at my flat."

"Oh," Alex grins with a smirk that's so fitting with his sleeked back hair and the 50s greaser aesthetic he was so fond of, "Don't lie, you like having me over."

"I like getting free take out," you counter with a grin of your own, laying down on the bed next to him. "And you do have great taste in music, but don't let it go to your head."

"Too late. My ego's the size of the hollywood sign."

You laugh, looking up at him. You really were glad you'd decided to come. "Is your horde of gel the mountain the signs on?"

"Never can win with you can I," Alex smiles, looking down at you, his eyes twinkling in the soft light, dark like a glass of top shelf scotch. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like that, your thoughts surging wildly, sending your pulse racing. It had been happening a lot more lately. 

You liked him. 

Too much. 

You couldn't help it. It was Alex. He was easy to like, easy to let into your life until you couldn't imagine your life without him there, smiling like a dork despite trying to look like John Travolta in Grease, carting a record player to your flat because music just wasn't the same without the scratches in old vinyl records. "Your words not mine." You swallow thickly. 

Alex strokes the side of your face gently, his touch setting your skin aflame, leaving you breathless. There's-there's no excuse. No friends to pretend for. No movie playing to cut the tension. You want desperately to pull away before your feelings are crushed. But you can't his gaze resting so earnestly on you, pinning you to the bed. 

"Can we talk," he finally utters, in that serious stilted way, as if Alex can only approach words from the side, never head on, never as comfortable as he was in writing. 

"Sure."

A knock on the door. 

Loud.

Harsh. 

Jolts you out of whatever trance you'd been in, letting you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, letting you look away from Alex. Zacks voice calls out from the hall, "we're going to order food!"

You force your voice to stay stead, unwilling to betray the rush of emotions coursing through you, blood rushing in your veins. Chest full of butterflies as you  answer, "don't tease me like that Zack, just let me know when the foods here." You should've used this as an out. But-it's Alex. That's the whole problem. You care for him, as a friend, as more. 

You'd never just leave him because you're feeling like being a coward. 

"Okay," Zack laughs, "just don't blame me if you hate everything we order."

"I'm sure the spiciest thing you've ever had was salt and pepper," you call back.

You listen to his steps disappear down the hall, eyes trained on the door. Heart beating like a sewing machine making it's way down the line of an inseam. You can't think, all flustered like this. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn to Alex. 

He takes your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks, his touch hot on your skin, his entire body leaning towards you the way sunflowers turn to face the sun, soaking in their rays. You're breathless. 

There's no wavier in his voice as Alex says, "I really like you. I think I might actually be in love with ya if I'm being honest. But right now, I just really wanna fuck you."

Cheeks burning red, you can't-your voice stops working. Brain short circuiting as you look at Alex. Desire pooling in your belly. You're a horny uni student all over again. Not trusting yourself to speak. His body hovering above yours, caging you against the bed. You want nothing more than to reach out and bring him flush against your body.

You don't trust yourself to speak.

When you don't respond, Alex, jaw clenching, adds, "if ya don't feel the same way just tell me tah fuck right off. But I can't-I can't lie next to yah and pretend it don't mean a thing to me."

"What a coincidence," you finally manage, smiling softly up at him, so close you could just reach up and kiss him, "I like you a lot as well." It's in the top ten dumbest things you've ever said in your life. And the most english thing, to keep a stiff upper lip when you're literally laying under the man you haven't been able to stop thinking about. 

"That's good," Alex notes, raising a brow. The little eager school boyish expression on his face making you giggle. 

He shuts you up promptly, smothering your laugh with a deep kiss, so unlike all the other times he's kissed you. None of the hovering and hesitance, none of the stiffness in your body, as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing his body against yours, savoring the feel of him. His toned muscles shifting as he shifts against you. 

It's hot and heavy, with a bruising intensity as Alex kisses you. You match him with the same passion, with all the pent up months of tension, of finally getting to show him how much you like him, how you've been thinking of him for weeks now. There's still sugar on his lips from the bubble tea you'd made him try, his tongue exploring your mouth as you moan into the kiss, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Alex's chest against yours. 

His hand winding its way into your hair, keeping it out of your face as you kiss him. As you loose yourself in Alex. The entire world shrinking until it's just the two of you. And nothing else matters. His other hand running down your side. Fingertips brushing over the exposed skin above the waistband of your shorts, before shoving the fabric aside, his hand griping your side. 

You kiss his lips, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, leaving you both gasping for air. Eyes glazed over, raging wildly with want. 

"I'm gonna fuck you love," Alex, whispers planting kisses down your neck, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt. "Show ya how crazy you've been driving me."

You nod, shakily, your gaze never leaving his, as your shirt falls back onto your shoulders, falls open.

Sam had been spot on, making you pack the nice parisian undergarments that had been at the back of your drawer abandoned. You'll have to buy her something really nice before you get back to the old smoke. 

Alex pulls his own shirt off. 

He shakes his head, smirking, "but you've got to say it love. Can't be the only one baring my soul here."

"You're baring more than your soul Alex," you tease, despite the hitch in your voice, revealing just how worked up you were feeling. But you indulge him, because you really want him. Your skin burning in anticipation of what comes next. "But right now I'm more interested in you fucking me."

Alex laughs, but there's no hiding the hoarseness in his voice. 

Then sits up on his legs, trailing kisses down your chest, down you belly as he works your shorts down your legs, you tilting your hips up so he can leave you bare, taking your nice lingere along with the shorts. It was a shame too. They really were nice, lacy and racy, worth the trouble of wearing. 

Your toes curl as Alex kisses the crook of your leg, your breath hitching as he prices open your legs, an easy move when you were all too willing to let him go down on you. 

Alex presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hand grasping the skin, all the while his other hand, his fingers brushed over your clit, dipping into your folds, into the wetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping from your lips. "I wanna hear you love," Alex whispers against your skin, mouth moving teasingly close to your center. "Let me hear you."

You can't stifle the cry as he runs his tongue through your folds, maddeningly slow, before sucking on your clit long enough for your brain to short circuit. He doesn't let up, flicking his tongue against you, your breathe short as you whimper at his ministrations. His fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at the covers, bunching them up in your palms. 

Alex sucks at your clit, his hand brushing against your folds, before slipping a finger into your core, curling inside you. 

You're on fire, skin hot. Eyes squeezed shut as you're overwhelmed with sensations, Alex's mouth against your center, breath tickling the skin, driving you crazier. The same mouth you'd kissed only moments ago.  

He adds another finger, pumping his hand against your core, eliciting more whimpers and moans from your lips. The wetness in your core growing. The heat in your lower belly growing. 

You can't take it. "Alex," you whimper. Bitting your lower lip. There's no way you'll last longer than a couple of seconds. All edged out. 

"Come for me," he utters, as choked up as you feel, his fingers buried inside you as he shifts, pressing his lips against your collar bone, nipping the the skin. You let go, coming against his hand, and the feel of his skin against yours. 

You're consumed by bliss. Left gasping for breath. 

Boneless as Alex gets up, unbuttoning his tight dark jeans, but not before rifling through his wallet for a condom. 

You can't be bothered to pay him much attention. 

Knocks ring out against the door, loud and insistent. Knocks like light taps that don't stop, a fly in your ear. 

Miles. 

And sure enough, "foods here! Al and Als much better looking bird," he jokes stretching bird as long as the sounds will let him.   

You prop yourself up on an elbow, wreaking your brain for a response as Alex freezes, clad in a pair of boxers, condom in hand. Utterly useless. 

"Matt won't leave us any if we dally," Miles adds, laughter clear in his tone. 

"Actually," you try, not sounding nearly as disheveled as you feel, as you are, "I think the jet lags caught up to me."

"Oh is it like that is it," Miles calls back, voice full of glee, "well let me know if yah need me. Three is a part-eh after all," he crackles. 

You let out a breath in relief, glad to be left alone. Again. 

Really you should've just stayed in LA. Or London. 

You could've done this in either place, uninterrupted. 

"Just focus on me love," Alex cuts in, make short work of getting your shirt the rest of the way off, kissing the corner of your mouth, knowing how easily you could get lost in your thoughts, like him. 

All the easier to understand him. 

He unhooks your bra, hands massaging your tits, the brush of his fingers hardening the peaks of your breasts, as he pressed his lips hard against yours. You eagerly kissed him back, softer than before, still ridiculously satisfied from before, your hands loose as they curled around his neck, letting him shift you both, letting him settle his weight between your legs, finally full naked. His hips hard against yours. 

Your lips eager against his mouth, already yearning for another taste of him. Alex's hand threading through your hair, as he shifts, finding your core with his hard cock, entering you in one swift thrust. 

You cry out into his mouth, you hand gripping his back. Your fingers finding their way into his hair. Soft despite the amount of product. Had to be expensive. 

You hold him against you, loving finally having him the way you've refused to admit to yourself that you wanted. You've been wanting Alex for weeks now. All the parts of of. The man who got pissed drunk at a pub, the man who'd bring you take out and fold your blankets, the man who kissed you. 

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling his lips against the crook of your neck, inbetween moans, your name on his tongue, as he thrusts deeply into you, filling you up to the brim, as you clench around him. "Yah feel so good love," he groans, heady with passion. 

Alex's pace relentless, all pent up want, the frustration of spending nights curled up with you on settees and beds, never being able to do more than look. 

He fucks you, his teeth nipping the delicate skin at the base of your throat. 

You gasp for breath, moaning his name like a prayer on your lips, wondering how the bloody hell you had ended up here. How lucky you were to have ended up here. 

His hips against yours, his body flush against your's as his thrusts become erratic. 

Your fingers digging into the skin of his back, as he comes against you. You’re exhausted. Spent. A day traveling by plane. A drive that lasted the entire day, and now this. You-you're not sure where this leaves you, where you go from here. This isn't exactly a standard way of-this isn't friends to more or strangers hitting it off, but you don't care. You'll figure it out, along with Alex. 

Alex who slumps over on his side, lying next to you, looking completely fucked. 

"I ruined your hair," you smile, completely out of it yourself, unable to summon any bite. 

Alex laughs, unabashedly, his entire demeanor taking on a boyish air, "for once I don't give a damn." 

"Are you going to go get food," you ask, rolling over so you can rest your head on his chest. 

"Don't particularly want to move. Debating getting up for a smoke though."

"Cool," you reply, letting your lids slid shut, "I'm going to go to sleep then."

"I take it ya not hungry," Alex smirks. 

"There's always Mcdonald's. At 3 am." 

[bruciewayne]

they got it right. (the butterfly effect remix)

remix of itsallavengers' the butterfly effect. there's an ao3 link somewhere. and a masterpost somewhere, if you want to check them out.

“Bucky’s alive, and he killed Tony’s parents.”

Loki’s words from earlier spin around Steve’s mind, over and over, he’s hardly paying attention to what Fury’s saying, something about ‘being a team’, making the Avengers official. Steve’s fine with that, he’s pretty much only good for war anyway, but all that’s going through his head are those damn words.

Loki had been disguised as Steve, he’d claimed that he wasn’t Loki, but he’d called Stark ‘Tony’. Steve’s almost certain that they’ll never end up on first-name basis.

None of it made any sense, he saw Bucky die, he saw him fall, he heard his scream, still, most nights, Howard died in the 90s, half a century after Bucky did. But then again, he’s alive, 70 years after he thought he was done, after he should be done.

“The Good Captain, daydreaming, are you?” Stark’s voice cuts through his thoughts, from across the conference table.

Steve doesn’t hate him, not after the battle, after the nuke, after how seamlessly they managed to fight, but he’s not sure that he likes him. Tony Stark is an asshole. By all definitions. But he can’t deny that he’s a hero, Steve was wrong before, he’ll freely admit it, Tony Stark is an ass, but he’s also a hero. Steve respects that.

He also can’t deny that the guy has some sort of inexplainable pull, like he’s the world’s brightest light and Steve’s the world’s most confused moth.

“If that’s what they call thinking now,” Steve says, instead any of the moth-bullshit.

It’s fun to play up to the ‘confused old guy’ shtick. He has to. Find joy in it or let it get to him. He has the chance for a new life, he’s not going to spend it miserable. He might even get a chance to live it with Bucky. If Loki was telling the truth.

Stark rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on the tabletop, “We gotta get you more caught up. Anyway-”

The focus shifts back to something else, and before he knows it, everyone’s standing up and shaking hands and leaving.

“Stark, a word?” Steve asks, just as he’s about to leave, the last person, save for Steve himself, who’s still sitting down.

Stark looks confused for a moment but then sits back down, “Sure, Cap, what can I do for you?”

Tony’s pretty sure that he’s gonna try and apologise again, as much as he was a dick back in the helicarrier, Rogers is exactly the way Aunt Peggy described him, but nothing like the way his dad did. Except that he is.

Tony’s not sure what to think of him, he’d never admit it, but Rogers confuses the hell out of him. He’s just as good as the history books, Aunt Peggy and his dad say, Tony’s never been the best at reading people, but even in the way he talks and holds himself, there’s this unmistakable good that he radiates, pure and simple, but at the same time, there’s a melancholy air about him, like a rain cloud above his head. He’d seen him smile once, we won, and it was bright, sunny, like the rainclouds had gone.

And then he’d never seen it again, even though, in the past few weeks, they’ve seen each other quite a bit, but he’s never seen him smile, he’s seen the horribly fake one he puts on for the press and for people who thank him for his duty, and for some reason that tugs at the heartstrings Tony pretends not to have, more than when he watches Rogers drop completely, when he thinks no-one’s looking. It’s not obvious, but his shoulders go from perpendicular to his neck to obtuse.

It tears Tony apart a little, when he sees him, back ramrod straight, every single muscle tensed, when they’re just talking.

He carries the world on his shoulders, Tony realises, because he thinks that it’s his duty. Even though he doesn’t even really know him, not really, hours worth of bedtime stories didn’t count, it feels like a universal wrong for someone that good to be so, so sad but he’s never met a problem he couldn’t solve.

So even though Steve Rogers is a bit of an asshole, he’s also sad, nothing like the guy Aunt Peggy talks about, and yeah, he doesn’t know him, but, if anything, he deserves to be happy.

Stark gives Steve his undivided attention, and a little part of him is pleased, smug, that he’s managed to capture it, Stark is a genius, Howard and a half, maybe, definitely, more, and it’d been almost impossible to get Howard to focus solely on one thing.

Steve's throat closes up, it’s stupid. But he has to make sure, just check. If Loki was right, Stark deserves to know, if he wasn’t, then it didn’t matter.

“Come on Cap, neither of us are getting any younger,” Tony prompts, Rogers is scared, apprehensive of something, it’s plain on his face. It’s making Tony scared, because, despite everything in the last few weeks, Captain America was his childhood hero, he was invincible, to see him scared…

Steve takes a shaky breath, he can’t break down in front of Stark, he respects him, he’s not too sure the respect is mutual, and he’d lose it if there were any if he broke down now, “Loki told me something, Bucky, my friend from before the war, he’s alive. And, and he killed your parents.”

Stark looks at him for a moment, then stands up and leaves.

Tony leaves, he had to, he, God, he’s not going to have a panic attack in the middle of a SHIELD hallway. He makes it a couple steps down and finds an empty office, full of boxes, he stumbles in, locks the door and slides down to the floor.

He takes a few deep breaths, tries to slow down his heart, presses a hand to his arc reactor, waits for the dark spots to fade.

One of them had to be lying. Rogers or Loki. Loki. Probably, hopefully. God, he hopes.

If it is true, first thing, he has to run checks to see if Rogers’ friend is alive, somehow, and then, find footage of the crash.

He’d tried, before, he’d looked at everything he could, every single tape he could find, through legal and more creative means, he’d tried and tried and tried, countless sleepless nights, running on coffee, Adderall, scotch and other, more creative things, right until Aunt Peggy had come in and held him as he cried, and told him to put them to rest.

Logically, it couldn’t be true, Rogers’ friend would’ve been well into his 70s, not to mention that he’d fallen off a train in the Alps in the 40s. But, by all means, Tony shouldn’t be alive, neither should Rogers.

Tony’s never been the guy to stick to petty things like ‘logic’ anyway.

So he gets himself together and goes back to the conference room, where Rogers still is, facing out towards the city below them, standing at parade rest.

Stark didn’t believe him, Steve didn’t blame him, he had to move on, both of them. It’s unfair to him for Steve to bring back his parents’ death, from over 20 years ago, just because he still has his hangups.

He gets up, and then looks over the city, it’d changed so much, cleaner, taller, bluer, but the people were the same, New Yorkers are just as rude and uncaring as they were. As much as he doesn’t like rude people, he finds it oddly comforting. After losing everything, everyone, his home is still somewhat the same.

Not really. His home isn’t his anymore.

He’s crying before he knows it, tears silently sliding over his cheeks and dripping on the star in the center of his chest. He fucking hates it. Everyone and everything he’s ever known is gone, all he has is Captain America, the next fight.

He wipes the tears away, the leather of his gloves scratch roughly on his face, probably leaving marks that’ll fade in seconds. He reminds himself that there’s no point in crying, he’s here, he has to deal, that or die, and people are counting on him, so that’s not an option.

Deal or die. The ice has already proved that he can’t die, so he has to deal.

He hears the door open after five busses have gone down the same road, probably whoever needs the room next, he turns to apologise and get out, but he sees Stark, a little rumpled, a little breathless, and he gets deja vu, Stark looks like the soldiers after shellshock. He doesn’t ask, it’s rude, and Stark is stable.

“Let’s find your friend,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

“Stark, are you sure, I don’t want to, I don’t want to bring up anything you’ve put to rest, or waste your time, Loki could be lying,” Rogers says, so sincerely, earnestly, fuck he’s such a good guy, through and through.

“Rogers. It’s nothing, I can make an algorithm, have it run, update you on the results,” Tony assures him. He has most of the algorithm already, he just needs to adjust some code blocks and functions, maybe set up auto updates, does Rogers have a phone?

“They gave me something called a Nokia. Agent Barton called it a brick,” Rogers says, out of the blue.

“What?”

Rogers turns bashful, the tips of his ears glow red, and he looks uncharacteristically unsure of himself, “You asked if I have a phone.”

“I was talking out loud, of course,” Tony mutters, “wait, a Nokia? Sorry Rogers, no can do, come to Stark tower tomorrow, 1500 hours, we’ll get you a real phone.”

Whatever SHIELD were doing to introduce him into the century, they weren’t doing a good job.

“Stark--”

“Tony.”

This time, it’s Steve’s turn to be confused, “What?”

“My name. It’s Tony. Use it.”

And with that, he spins around and leaves the room again.

SHIELD’s way of introducing him to the century is by giving him a laptop, explaining the laptop. It’s a computer and a typewriter, under an inch thick and has all the world’s information. It blows Steve’s mind.

As soon as he figures out how to use it, he loves it, SHIELD make him take classes on it, what’s acceptable now, what changed, the wars, the politics, who’s who. They’re doing it a decade a week.

Someone, maybe Agent Romanoff, told him that they were going to give him a tutor and books, but giving him a laptop seemed faster, two birds, one stone she’d said. He’s glad they went about it this way, he could put in all the mandatory hours and then explore, all in his own time.

The next day, he took out his motorbike, making sure that his phone and wallet - they’d given him a ‘debit card’ because he has way more money than he knows what to do with, because someone had managed to convince someone else that, technically, wasn’t KIA, only MIA and he has 70 years worth of backpay - were in his pocket and went off to Stark Tower.

Tony’s at the front, sunglasses perched on his nose, doing something on his phone, leaning against the door. He looks up when Steve stops in front of him.

“Afternoon, Capsicle,” he greets, pocketing his phone.

“Capsicle?”

Tony grins, “Yep, Captain and icicle, Capsicle.”

“Yeah okay,” Steve concedes, a smile forming on his face, he misses the camaraderie and friendship of the Commandos, Tony reminds him of them, a little.

“Right, bring the bike ‘round back, there’s an elevator to my workshop,” Tony says straightening up and walking next to Steve as he slowly drives the bike around the tower.

They put the bike on one of the lower floors and then go up to Tony’s workshop.

The elevator ride is awkward, both of them staring at the numbers blinking higher, silent, elevator music hadn’t disappeared, he’s sure of it.

“Tony,” he says, suddenly, “why doesn’t your elevator play music?”

Tony snaps out of his thoughts and turns to face Steve, he laughs a little, “Everyone complained,” he says, shrugging, “JARVIS can play some for you, if you want.”

“JARVIS?” Is there another person in with them? He couldn’t see anyone but himself and Tony, an invisible person?

“Oh, right, yeah, JARVIS say hi,” Tony says, not to Steve.

“Good afternoon, Captain Rogers,” the… ceiling? says, in a smooth British accent. Tony’s elevator is weirder than he thought.

“Tony,” he says slowly, trying very hard not to break down, “why is there an invisible British man in your elevator?” who knows my name!?

“JARVIS,” Tony says, waving his hand about, in lieu of an explanation.

“Captain Rogers, I am an AI created by Tony Stark, I monitor this building, but I can be accessed through most devices, provided certain circumstances, my primary purpose is to ensure the wellbeing of my creator, you can interact with me by speaking aloud.” The ceiling man - JARVIS, says.

“JARVIS, do you know everything?” Steve asks looking up.

“I know as much as I am accessible to.”

“What are you accessible to?”

“Anything online.”

“What’s my middle name?”

“Grant.”

“Wh--”

“You know you don’t have to look at the ceiling every time you ask him something,” Tony cuts in, a fond smile on his face. He can’t help it. Cap, he’s so curious, and so clearly blown away, and in wonder of JARVIS, he feels a sense of pride, somewhere deep within him, because who knew that Captain America is a huge dork?

He gives Tony a look, “His voice comes from the ceiling, so I’ll talk to the ceiling,” he says, determined.

Before Tony can retort, the doors slide open and he’s greeted with his workshop lighting up.

“Holy shit, Tony,” he hears from his side, in a hushed whisper.

Steve’s eyes are wide as he takes in everything, it’s like he stepped into the future again, it’s- incredible.

Tony feels that tiny spike of pride again, because Captain America swore, that he tries to tamp down, because, yeah, he knows he's great, he’s a classified genius, he doesn’t need some nonagenarian to tell him.

Tony takes Steve and sits him down and begins explaining the algorithm, Steve’s attentive, focussed, he asks questions when he doesn't get something, after, maybe an hour, Tony gets JARVIS to run everything, it’ll take a while, but they have time.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, at a quiet moment, Steve suddenly sits up, “Tony, if he is alive, and he did, cause your parent’s death, what- what happens, I can’t- I--”

“Hey, hey, we’ll deal with it, okay,” Tony reassures, he’s the last guy anyone should go to for comfort, but Steve, he needs the support right now.

Tony gives Steve a Starkphone, a model they’ll release in a couple months, it’s ready, all of it, but something about PR and release times mean that they can’t release it just yet. He shows him how to use it and sets up JARVIS, he’s so full of wonder and gratitude, Tony’s heart aches after him.

They talk about the team, the Avengers, Tony tells Steve his plans, Steve tells his of a road trip, they go out to get dinner together, it’s awkward and stilted, but they might be getting somewhere.

Steve thinks that they’re on the way to becoming friends. He can’t fuck it up. He won’t.

Over the next few months, Tony stays in New York more than he has to, and they become no closer to finding Bucky, but closer as friends. Then Tony dies.

But he doesn’t.

“Can’t kill me,” he’d said, banged up, but with a grin. Because his house got blown up, he had to stay in New York, in the Tower, and then everyone stayed in the Tower, Avengers Tower.

Steve meets Dum-E. This time, it’s Tony who’s absolutely blown away, because Steve smiles so, so bright when he’s in his workshop, playing with Dum-E, it’s ridiculous, and Tony feels a spike of affection, and, love, and fear. Because what if he fucks it up.

When Tony lets Steve meet Dum-E, Steve’s in awe once again, because Tony’s opened up a tiny part of his heart to him, and Steve’s determined to make sure that he doesn’t, won’t regret it.

New York, Brooklyn, it still isn’t really home to him, not anymore, but the Tower, Tony’s workshop, being around Tony, he feels at home.

They become closer, best friends then, something more. They don’t fuck it up.

The first time Tony has a panic attack in front of Steve, it’s from a nightmare, about a month into their relationship.

Steve wakes him up by shaking his shoulder, and Tony lashes out in his sleep, punching Steve right on his cheekbone, the bruise is barely there when Tony comes to, but he still notices it.

“Steve, was that--” Tony asks, voice rough, small. He wouldn’t blame Steve for leaving, for breaking up with him, but God, he hopes that they could still be friends.

“You, yeah, but, hey, hey, Tony, it doesn’t hurt, I’d take a thousand punches to make sure you’re ok,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there for a second.

“Okay, thanks,” Tony mumbles, quiet, because, in that moment, he realises that what he has with Steve, it’s a sure thing.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart, it’s what I’m here for,” Steve says, pulling away to look at Tony, promising him a million different things with one look.

He’s beautiful, in the faint moonlight JARVIS let in, Tony doesn’t deserve him, not in a million lifetimes could he do enough good to ever deserve Steve Rogers, but Steve had chosen him, and he didn’t want to give him any reasons to regret it.

Tony just wraps his arms back around him, holding him tighter, leaning his head just above his heart, listening to it beat, strong and steady, letting it lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Steve kisses his forehead to wake him up, with a cup of coffee, and then asks about what he should do, if Tony has a panic attack again. Tony tells him, what’s dangerous, what he doesn’t want, and Steve listens, pays attention.

Tony tells him what they’re about. The army from space. Steve promises him that they’re ok, that, if he wanted to, he could protect the earth.

It reminds him, strikingly of when Steve’d asked if he has shell-shock, voice curious, not judgmental, a few months into their friendship, when they could easily call each other friends. Tony had given him a crash course in the progress of mental health and attitudes towards it.

They call it PTSD, now. And there’s doctors, head-doctors. To help.

Steve had then, tentatively, asked if he could get him in touch with a head doctor. Which had meant that SHIELD hadn’t bothered.

Yeah, sure.

The first thing Tony had done, after making sure Steve gets the best of the best, was go over to SHIELD and tell them what he thought of bringing a guy 70 years into the future and not even checking him for any trouble upstairs.

Tony loves him. It doesn’t hit him, it’s not like a truck to the face, it’s not violent, loud, it’s relief, finallysomething, somewhere, says.

Good thing he loved him back.

Then SHIELD falls. Oversight, protection, it’s needed, but not like that.

Steve wakes up in DC General, Tony’s by his bedside, with Sam, music’s playing, but he only has one thing on his mind.

Tony hugs him, kisses him, desperately, Sam leaves them with a knowing smile.

“You’re not allowed to die, Steve- I--” Tony chokes out, he can’t lose him.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, I’m right here,” he says, hoarsely, kissing him, over and over.

He’s not allowed to be discharged just yet, so he convinces Tony to sleep in the hospital bed with him, he has to hold him, and he has to tell him.

His heart is beating a million miles an hour, Tony can probably hear it, feel it, he doesn’t want to fuck this up, he can’t.

“Tony, he was right, Tony, Loki was right, Bucky, he, the Winter Soldier killed them,” Steve rushes out, all in one breath.

Tony sits up, suddenly, jolting the bed. Steve grunts a little. “Sorry,” he murmurs, kissing Steve on the forehead.

Tony looks down at Steve and his heart just breaks, Steve looks nothing short of terrified, something he hadn’t seen on him in, years now, he’s looking him in the eye, his eyes are so, so, blue, bright and unrepenting, guarded, his hair’s a mess on his forehead, flopping over his eyes.

It hits Tony, just how much he’s changed since he met him, Steve was, confused, mostly, lost, scared, he used to pretend that he wasn’t, for fear of seeming weak, Tony remembers Steve telling him, when he thought that he was asleep, quietly.

He was so, so guarded, and tense, all the time, now, he’s vulnerable to him, he’s changed and grown so, so much, Tony’s so goddamn proud of him.

He takes a deep breath, “Okay, thank you for telling me.”

“Tony, he was, he’s brainwashed, it wasn’t--” Steve rushes to say, almost pleading, what for, he doesn’t know. For Tony to not leave him, maybe.

“It wasn’t him, I know,” Tony says, softly.

He’s made his peace with it, he’s had two years to entertain the possibilities, but he knows what it means: his boyfriend's previously-dead, now-brainwashed assassin, killed his parents.

It doesn’t look pretty, but he can’t change the past, and even if he could, he had to let them rest. But he could help Barnes, find him, see how they could help him.

“Tony, I get it if you want to break up,” Steve says, small and scared. His voice breaks halfway through the sentence, and Tony’s hand immediately comes out to cup his face, thumb stroking gently over the bruise on his cheekbone.

“I don’t, Steve, you told me, I’m happy that you did, but I don’t, I don’t want to break up.”

The reaction is immediate, Steve relaxes under his hand and leans more into his touch, “We’re good,” he whispers, mostly to himself over and over, until Tony wraps an arm around him, mindful of his injuries.

“Yeah, baby, we’re good.”

[cchellacat]

Finding A Different Way  (The Checkout Part 2)

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Twenty-Three ~ Having A Lazy Day

Part 2 of The Checkout

New York 2030

The last defenders stood in the ruins of Stark Tower waiting.  They were hoping for someone.  Someone that might help them reverse the terrible tragedy that had befallen the planet.

Sam Wilson sat against a crumbling fountain that had once been part of the lobby.  He was lost.  He’d been lost for a long time. The family that had once formed between the Avengers in this same place had cracked and crumbled.  He was the only one left.  The others were all long dead.  He could pinpoint to the fucking hour the moment it had all went wrong.  A single senseless tragedy which had domino-ed and left the Earth vulnerable, without it’s best heroes when they had been needed most.  It had all hinged on just one woman, one life, that once gone had caused a chain of events to unfold which had doomed them all.

“We know it worked before, that there was another future, one that ended almost as badly as this.  It was averted in the same way we want to avert this.”

Sam listened with half an ear as Professor Xavier explained the plan to Jemma Simmons.

“And there is no one else who we might send back?  No one?”

“There is no one left with a healing factor strong enough to withstand the forces which will need to be exerted to send a person back far enough.   Added to that, Logan has done this before, he has the best chance of succeeding.”

“How do you know he will agree?”

“He lost something precious to him in all of this.  He’ll agree.”

“If you knew that this was possible…  I don’t understand why you did not try this plan sooner.”

Kitty Pride stepped forward, her chin lifted defiantly.

“It took me while to develop the power, I had no idea how to do it, or that I could do it.  The Professor and Logan were the only ones who knew of the possibility.”

Xavier placed a placating hand on the woman’s arm.

“When I saw how bad things were getting, I informed Kitty of the previous timeline and she started training her power in earnest, attempting to develop the ability again.  We were only successful a year ago.  Since then Kitty has successfully sent people consciousness back in time on a number of occasions.  The longest we managed to establish was a month, but it killed the person we sent back before they could alter the timeline.”

“So, we need this, Wolverine, to make it work.  Exactly how did you loose contact with him?”

Sam squirmed.  He remembered intimately why the man had taken off and he didn’t blame him, not a bit.

“It was my fault.”

“Mr Wilson, it was not your fault, I assure, Logan did not blame you for what happened.”

“I blame myself Professor, it was on me.  I was the one leading that mission.  I was the one who screwed up.  I should have died then.”

“Rogue’s death was not your fault.  She did what any team mate would do for another.  She was a brave woman and more then capable of looking after herself.  I knew her well, she wouldn’t want the weight of her death on you.”

“Maybe, but it is.  She came back for me, she saved my life and then she went back into that place and sacrificed herself to give us time to get away.  I don’t blame Logan for leaving, if it had been my wife that got killed like that, I would have shot the asshole who messed up myself.”

“Shut the fuck up.  I don’t blame you Wilson, I never did.  Just couldn’t stick around, not with her gone, I needed time.”

Wolverine stalked over the rubble towards them, a tired looking Danny Rand following him closely.

“Logan.”

“Chuck, good to see you.”

The two men embraced.

“Well, this all looks depressingly familiar.”

“The end of the world?”

Logan sighed.

“Where are we doing this?  The city’s crawling with Skrulls.”

Sam stood and pulled out an old key card.

“This place has been abandoned for years, looted repeatedly.  But there was a sub-basement never on the plans.  Stark always was a paranoid son of a bitch.  Rhodes gave this to me before he died.  Told me it was a safe place if we ever needed a bunker.  I figured we can hole up there, we should be good for week at least, if the Skrulls don’t get wind of it.”

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  Logan sometimes wonders what he did to end up in these situations.  Twice he’s watched as the world crumbled to nothing around him.  Twice he’s watched the woman he loved either be taken from him or killed.  This time he was not going to fuck it up.  He was going to fix this.  But first he had to understand where it had all started.  Which meant talking to Wilson.  He’d told the truth earlier, he didn’t blame Wilson for Marie’s death, the woman was stubborn like mule.  There was no one gutsier, and more bull headed that he had met in his life, than his Marie, his Rogue.  It’s a little ironic he thinks, that the woman he has to save now is one who, from all accounts from Wilson, was just as stubborn and gutsy.

“It was January 21st 2018 our girl goes to buy some milk and some kid hopped up on crystal meth holds up the grocery store.  A civvie decides to try and interfere and tackles the kid, gun goes off and when the smoke clears Darcy’s on the floor dead.  That was the beginning of the end.”

“One girl’s death caused the Avengers to implode?  What happened next?”

“We were all worried about Barnes, Steve most of all.  Darcy was seven months pregnant when she died, they were expecting a girl.  Barnes was over the fuckin moon, man, you shoulda seen it.  The guy couldn’t stop smiling he was such a proud papa to be.  He didn’t give a shit about all the teasing he got for it either.”   Sam snorted.  “Barnes was so happy and in love…  I ain’t never seena  guy so damn crazy ‘bout a girl before.  You gotta understand, I knew him before he met her.  A grumpier son of a bitch I have never met.  He was the Winter Soldier, the ghost story, the bogyman that had spies and agents the word over pissing their pants at the mere mention of him.  But for her?  He woulda done anything she asked, done anything to make her happy.  She gave him a reason to really live again, to get past the things he’d been through, the things he did for Hydra.  She gave him his soul back, she took it with her when she died.  Barnes disappeared after making the funeral arrangements.  He turned up again a few days later, just in time for the funeral, said he’d had to get a few things in order.  We didn’t question it too much, the guys wife and child were dead, everyone grieves in their own way…”

Sam stops, he hates thinking about it, but it’s worse talking it through, the things that came next….

“He wouldn’t leave the grave side after.  Told us all to go.  Said he’d be going home soon, not to worry about him.  I made Steve leave him, figured he wanted a little time to say goodbye, you know?..”

Logan nods, he understands where Sam was coming from.  Grief was a tricky thing, everyone was different.  It was respectful to allow others the chance to do what they needed to make it through.

“We got back to the car, but Steve insisted there was something wrong, wanted to wait but we all convinced him to go home.  I didn’t know how right he was.   None of did.  The next day…   The next day, cops showed up at the Tower.  Barnes had blown his brains out on top of Darcy’s grave.  Took a fucking gun and put it to his head and pulled the trigger.”

“So, the girl dies, Barnes kill’s himself…  that’s what caused…”  Logan actually stops then, unsure how to put it.

“Captain America to go on a murder spree?  Yeah.  Steve went off the deep end.   Blamed himself for not stopping him.  Blamed that junkie kid for what happened.  You know what happened next…  Steve want after the kid in Juvie and killed him, but not before getting the name of the guy he bought the gun from and every fucking dealer he’d ever bought a bag from.  He went underground after that, it was a fuckin slaughter, he took down the Kingpin’s whole organisation and then went after The Hand.  Every fucking tie he could find, that had some indirect responsibility in what led to Barnes’ death…  He wouldn’t stop.  He wouldn’t listen to anyone.  Stark refused to bring him in, said he’d tried it once and he wasn’t doing it again, said he’d have done it himself if Roger’s hadn’t.  Stark was a wreck too.  Not that we realised, till it was too late…”

Logan scowled, now this part was where he’d always been a little lost.  No one ever explained why Stark went off the reservation.

“Why did Stark do what he did?  We’ve never been able to figure out why…  some thought he’d just finally cracked after the stress and PTSD and alcoholism… but I always wondered.  It seemed more personal than that, but as far as I know there wasn’t much love lost between him and Barnes or Rogers.”

Sam shook his head.  The man wasn’t wrong.  Steve and Barnes and Stark had had an uneasy truce.  But it had been getting better.  It had been getting better ever since Darcy had announced she was pregnant.  In retrospect that had made sense, but at the time he had never connected the two together.

“After the task force went after Rogers and killed him Stark took up where he left off.  He built another Iron Legion, this time it wasn’t for disaster relief, it was to go after every criminal in America with a gun, permit or not.  He had this AI he built run an algorithm based on the one Zola created for Project Insight.  Instead of identifying potential targets based on a threat to Hydra he had it identify every person who was likely to pick up a gun and kill someone in the future.  He went Minority Report on us and we didn’t see it coming.  It took us three years to identify where the AI’s severs were and blow it to kingdom come.  In that time the Iron Legion went on a murder spree across the States.  First it took out the criminals with guns, then it went after the criminals that didn’t have guns, then it went after any adult likely to use the gun they had to kill someone.  That last three months before we shut it down….  Well you know it went after any kid that the AI flagged as a future murderer.   The youngest was a 13 year old boy in Chicago.  When Natasha finally found Stark, he was sitting drinking with a gun in his hand.  He told her then, why he’d done it.  He said it was so no one else had to suffer the loss of a daughter and granddaughter the way he had.  Turns out Darcy was his.  He’d never told her, hadn’t known how to tell her.   Biggest regret of his life, not being there for her growing up.  But when he found out about her, he’d offered Foster the position at SI hoping Darcy would tag along.  She did, and he spend six years getting to know her, growing to love her.  I knew the two of them were close, Darcy adored Stark, the two of them got each other, same snark, same irreverence, same fucking sense of humour.  We should have seen that too.  She looked just like his mother.  He had been trying to find a way to tell her before she died and then that chance was gone for him.  A chance to be her father, a chance to be a grandfather.  After Stark confessed to Nat he did the same thing Barnes did.  Bruce and Nat took off, we never saw either of them again.  Thor and Jane went to New Asguard and Clint went back to Iowa.  Vision and Wanda left Earth with Thor and Jane, decided to go see the universe.  And then there was one.”

Logan winced.  It was a clusterfuck of a story.  All that death and tragedy because of one girl’s death.  All because some stupid kid went to rob a store.

“Tell me about the day it happened.”

“Barnes was at the Upstate facility that week.  He left on the Monday morning, he was coming back Wednesday night.  Darcy popped out to the sore Wednesday morning, early hours, Jarvis said she couldn’t sleep.  It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done a million times before.  It was the same store she always went to, the one on the corner of East 42nd and Lexington.  According to the incident report the kid entered the store at 3:54 am.  Paramedics and police were called at 4:03am. Darcy was pronounced dead at the scene at 4:12am.  Barnes turned up at 5:17am.   Her body had already been moved when he got there.  If you’re goin’ to go back, you have stop Darcy leaving the tower or stop Barnes from goin’ Upstate, he never woulda let her go off at night on her own, he was an over protective mother hen.  If you’re too late, you have to get to the store before she dies and stop that damn kid.  And if you can’t manage that you have to find some way of talking Barnes out of killing himself and Tony out of building that program.”

Logan nods. He’s already worked out what he’ll have to do.  He was going to fix this for all of them.  Without the Avengers there to help defend Earth the Skrull had overrun them easily.  Having Stark and Rogers together was imperative, the two had been masterful strategists and leaders.  There wasn’t a plan or an enemy they couldn’t out think or outgun when it was called for.   With the Avengers together, the invasion would have been stopped before it even started.

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January 20th 2018  Avengers Upstate Facility New York.

Bucky had just finished up with the baby agents target practice when he became aware of the sensation of being watched.  It made him twitchy.  A cursory glance around the periphery didn’t reveal anything right away. He continued to check his gun, chambered a round flicked on the safety and holstered it.  He knew there was someone there.  His gut was telling him it wasn’t a threat, but he didn’t like the feeling, it made his spine crawl.

“Whoever’s there better come out or I’m coming after you.”  He called out.

“Well, you’re skills of observation are just as good as they were back in Vienna.”  A rough voice chuckled as a man materialized from the edge of the tree line.  He was stalky and solid, hair rising in peaks at either side of his head.  There was a pause as he processed the familiar voice and face.

“Jesue Christ, Howlett?  James Howlett?”

He didn’t think it was possible to be anymore surprised.  He hadn’t seen the other man in over seventy years, hadn’t thought it possible that there was anyone else out there like him and Steve.

“I go by Logan now, or Wolverine if you prefer.”

“How the hell are you still alive and looking….”

“Young?  I don’t age very much kid, never have. I’ve got a century on you.”

“Why are you here?  Now?”

“Why else?  I’m here to save the world.”

Bucky frowned weighing up the veracity of the statement.  He’d known James Howlett for a handful of months back in ’44.  He’d been a reliable soldier, a good leader for his own team of commandos and had been helpful back then.  Brave, willing to do the right thing.  He hadn’t thought much of the man’s brother Victor, that guy had been a few sandwiches short of a picnic.  The name Wolverine was one he had heard more recently.  The name of one of the X-Men.  Mutants that had been taking up some of the burden of dealing with both super-villains and alien threats.

“I guess you better come in then.”

Logan nodded and the two men made their way into the facility.  Bucky signaled with his com to have Jarvis gather the others.

Once inside and settled, Stark and Steve and the others all gathered up, Logan started his story.  A story of a world gone wrong, a timeline that ended with Earth overrun and most of them dead.

“Okay, so this isn’t going to happen for years, why come back to this time, specifically?”

It was Stark that asked, he’d seen something or noticed something in the story Logan told that was rattling him.

“That’s the bit that’s most delicate.  I don’t want any of you going off the deep end.  There’s time to avert the turning point.  The event that cause the Avengers to be gone when the Skrulls came.  It changed you, twisted you up inside. You weren’t taken out by enemies, you self-destructed, went mad, or left, some of you regarded as monsters before then end.”

“And one thing caused all that?”

Bucky asked, unable to comprehend what could have caused such a drastic change.  Logan meets his eyes, regret and sorrow in them and Bucky’s gut churns.  Dread feeling like a lead weight settling inside him.

“One death.  One senseless, pointless death that never should have happened.”

Stark and Bucky are now tense while the others seem lost.  It’s Stark’s voice, cold and devoid of emotion that speaks first.

“When?”

Both he and Bucky stand.  Bucky doesn’t bother to spare a glance at the other man.  He’s known for months now that Darcy was his daughter.  No other death would have the impact Logan was suggesting.  He knew exactly how it would go.  How could he not?  Just thinking about losing her, her and the baby….  He’d be right behind her, it wouldn’t matter to him what happened after, only that he wasn’t there to live in a world without her.

“How?”

It’s Bucky demanding an answer now.  If he can stop it…  He won’t go till he knows how to stop it.

“Early hours of tomorrow morning at a store on the corner of East 42nd and Lexington.  A robbery goes wrong, she dies, her and the baby.”

He and Stark are out the door at the same time.  It’s only noon, there’s plenty of time to stop it but neither of them is going to be comfortable till they see her, make sure she’s still alive and there and not…  he can’t think about it.

Stark brings his car up in the drive and they both get in.  They might not be friends, but in this one thing they will always be allies.

“She needs a protection detail.”

“I know, I should have organised one for her months ago but…”

“She hates a fuss and she’d have dug her heels in.  She can’t say no to both of us.”  Stark tells him with a hard tone.  He won’t brook any argument from her now.  Not when they had come so close to losing her.

“You have to tell her the truth.”

He knows it will be difficult for Stark, but Darcy will be happy about it when she gets over the shock.  She genuinely loves Stark, he’s her favourite Avenger even if she’d never admit it.

“I know, I was planning to, just have to readjust my timeline.”  He agrees.  “we can’t tell her about this, not now.”

“No.” Bucky nods, there’s no way he’ll let any of them tell her about this.   She doesn’t need to know how close it came, not till after their kid is born.

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

Darcy is laying out some baby clothes and snipping off the tags, ready to be washed when she hears the door open.

“Doll, I’m back, you here?”

“In here babe.”  She calls back.

He finds her in the nursery sitting in the rocking chair, a pile of clothes on her lap.  She smiles brightly at him and he restrains himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms.

“You’re back early?”

“Yeah, we finished up early, thought I’d surprise you.”

Darcy’s brow puckers, there’s something not right, he looks….  She can’t quite put a finger on it but it’s odd.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good Doll, just missed you.”  He comes over, bracing himself on the arms of the chair as he leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Darcy shrugs off the strange feeling, the shiver that runs down her spine.

“What do you say we get away for a few days?  One last vacation before the little bug is born?”

“I thought you couldn’t get any time off?”

“Change in the schedule, managed to swing the long weekend.  We leave tonight come back on Sunday, what do you think?”

Darcy laughed.  “And just where are we going at such short notice?”

“Tony offered the house in Malibu, what do you think? Sun, sand, lay by the pool?”

“Right now?”

“Pack a bag, we can be flying there in an hour.”

Darcy shrugs.  Sure, why the hell not.  It’s not like they’re likely to get a chance like this again for a while.  She puts the clothes to one side, letting Bucky help her up.

An hour later they’re on a jet, Bucky not trusting anyone but himself to fly them there.

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

January 21st 2018  3:57am

Darcy wakes with a scream, heart pounding with fright.  Bucky is out of the bed, searching for danger before she can catch her breath quick enough to tell him she’s fine.

“It’s okay, it was just a bad dream.”

“Darcy…” he crawls into the bed, arms wrapped round her hard, rocking her with him as he buries his face in her hair breathing her in.

She clings to him, unable to stop the tears from falling.  She can’t remember the dream exactly, just that something awful had happened, something that had left her scared and lonely and full of grief.

Eventually she calms and he feels secure enough to grab a glass of water for her.   Darcy grabs a tissue from the night stand and wipes her eyes, taking the water gratefully when he comes back.

“You alright Darcy?”

“I’m fine, just…  I feel like something really bad happened and….  I don’t know, it was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

“You’re safe Darcy-Doll, I promise, nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.  I won’t let it.”

She lets him snuggle her back into his arms and she tries to fall asleep.   Neither of them seem to manage and after a while she gives up.

“I can’t sleep.  I’m going to be a wreck tomorrow.”

Bucky sighs, stroking her back gently.

“Why don’t we get up then?  I’ll make you something to eat, we’ll watch some Netflix on the couch, we can nap the day away tomorrow if you get tired, just laze about, not worry about keeping a schedule.”

“A lazy day sounds good, lie out by the pool and do nothing but soak up some sun and cuddle.”

“Sounds perfect Darce.  Come on, I’ll make you some waffles and tea.”

She kisses him softly.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Every day Doll, almost as often as I tell you.”

He kisses her back and then pulls her up with him.

“Let’s get this lazy day started.”

NEXT

@randomlittleimp

@captain-rogers-beard

[kootenaygoon]

So,

I was watching music videos again. 

Dragon smoke unfurled before me, my living room throbbing with purple Targaryen magic, while Tove Lo sang from my glowing laptop. I gotta stay high all the time to keep you off my mind. I was shirtless in my Shambhala tights, allowing YouTube to send my mind careening through what some algorithm had decided should be my mental breakdown playlist. Repeatedly it returned to a haunting electronica track from Disclosure: You help me lose my mind, and you believe something I can't define. Help me lose my mind. Mika was at class at Selkirk College while I raved, trampling her rabbit’s shit pebbles into the carpet with my slippers.

All around me were canvases, procured with my final cheque from the Star, at various states of completion. I’d finished a couple more flamboyant self-portraits, but now I’d moved on to psychedelic dinosaurs, shape-shifting jelly-fish, and paintings of both Mika and my barber Jesse Lockhart. Right now I was working on my first nude, a beach scene set on the fictional island of Quatsino, with my UBC manuscript’s protagonist knee-deep in the surf. Paisley’s dreadlocks hung blonde around her shoulders, and on her forearm I had painstakingly recreated the rose tattoo her real-life counterpart got back when we lived together in Victoria. I could’ve easily been painting Kessa. A joint hanging from my lips, I felt tears slide down my cheeks like fat slugs, my mind flashing back and forth between fiction and non-fiction. Sometimes it seemed like there was no difference — these were all just characters in my mind, and real or not they spoke to me. 

Stacked on the kitchen counter was three or four copies of my last issue of the Star, the one featuring the #MeToo story with Mharianne and Laela. I’d asked Ed about the story while collecting my things from the office, and he’d hinted that it may be on the chopping block due to my departure. I insisted it was done, everybody was interviewed and signed off, it was all ready to go — “you would literally be silencing sexual assault survivors,” I made sure to say. Then I called the president of Selkirk College, begging him to talk sense into Aaron Layton and letting him know I was planning to publish it online myself. They couldn’t kill it, not now. They could take my job away, but they couldn’t take that story. They ultimately ran it without my byline—a masterpiece without a proper signature.

Meanwhile, I had other things on my mind. 

“You didn’t wear a condom?” Mika asked, when I told her about Natalya’s potential pregnancy. She was looking increasingly more concerned when she returned to the house to find me manic and monologuing.

“I hate condoms.”

“So what were you using for birth control? Wasn’t this chick married?”

I dragged my knuckles against my temple, my skin trembly and sweat-slicked. “I thought she was too old. She’s like 42 or something. And she’s already got kids, right? I thought she was on top of this shit.”

Mika rolled her eyes. “You have nobody to blame here but yourself. Seriously, you don’t get my sympathy.”

I had initially intervened in Mika’s life because she was in the midst of a break-up, and I empathized with the struggle of going through something so publicly embarrassing in such a small town. It wasn’t until we moved in together that I encountered her real personality — she was a hyper-nerd, into science and learning and the weekly Bingo night. She was one of the bud tenders at the local dispensary, which was a convenient way for me to meet the owners.  Amidst my chaotic and prolific dating life, I was trying to keep her on a platonic level. 

My Nelson sister, something like that.

“This is toxic masculinity, right here. I’m such a fucking asshole,” I said. “This is what Me Too is all about.”

“Not everything is about Me Too. You’re just obsessed with that lately.”

I shook my head. “Kessa’s dead, Mika. That’s a real thing. Fucking pedophile rings and rape everywhere. This is what the woman are raging about. They’re dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Like those girls on roller skates, in the Chet Faker video. You know the one?”

By this point she knew me pretty well, and as her eyes narrowed I realized this was more than a normal high. I was operating from an extra elevated plane, like I’d lost sensory hold over my body. It was an intoxicating place to be, far from the shame and darkness of the banal. I’d tried one of the pills Natalya gave me, and it was making the room vibrate.

“You’re on something,” she said.

“Natalya gave me this shit to micro-dose. Like mushrooms and speed or something. I just had one like an hour ago.”

She sighed. “You need to be careful, Will. You’re acting strange.”

However I was acting, things finally made sense. I felt like I’d peeled back a layer of existence and discovered the writhing snake-belly of reality. Trump was grabbing everybody by the pussy, waging Twitter war with Kim Jong-Un, while here in Nelson there was some sort of conspiracy to ruin my fucking life. Was it really the Kessa situation that did it? How did they convince Ed to betray me? I thought of that cop who punched a woman, how he sat on the pay roll for years while they figured out his outcome. Was I worse than him? Did I deserve to have my life up-ended for going to a fucking funeral? What were they afraid of? I rattled through my theories on this as I drove Mika to school, and she mostly looked out the window. I wondered if she regretted moving in with me. I’d become that mentally ill freak people talk about, posting my shit all over social media. I just didn’t care anymore.

“So is she going to get an abortion?” Mika asked. “Did she say?”

I shook my head. “She hadn’t even taken a test yet. She said she was just feeling funny, and when she was leaning over she felt something weird.”

“Something weird like what?”

“She said it felt like a tear, like a muscle tear maybe? I don’t know, I was fucking panicking. I told her to call my sisters.”

“Your sisters?”

I didn’t feel like explaining this to Mika. She wasn’t tuned into the greater conversation that was going on, the one coming at me through social media. Men were failing to acknowledge their complicity in rape culture while women bled in public. Nobody was willing to admit they were wrong, because everyone was worried they lived in a glass house. Lately, though, I was wondering if I could break my own glass house. That way I could throw some stones.

“What do you mean throw stones?” she asked.

“These men need to be held accountable.”

“What men?”

“These rapists and abusers and pedophiles who took away my job.”

“I thought you got fired because of Kessa.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I wasn’t fired. I was let go without cause.”

Back in my bedroom, Lt. Aldo Raine marched before his carefully assembled killing team in Inglorious Basterds. I’d watched this clip multiple times, and had the words memorized. Brad Pitt sneered, his throat sporting a nasty scar. I sure as hell didn’t come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of fucking aero plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazis ain’t got no humanity. They’re the foot soldiers of a Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac and they need to be destroyed. 

That’s what was happening here in Nelson, but with rapists instead of Germans. Andrew Stevenson was sitting on the edge of my bed, wiping down the barrel of his shotgun, as I lit up another joint. Now I was watching that scene from The Sopranos, the one where Tony wants to kill the local soccer coach for molesting one of the teenage players. This shit was real life, right here. Like my Trent situation. I thought of the local soccer team, and all the abusive shit-heads that were coaching there. I wondered if one of them had crossed the line, if I’d have to add him to my kill list.

I want my scalps. 

Somewhere around that time, I realized I was expected soon at Tony’s Taphouse for my Friday night shift. That was how I was battling rape culture now, working the front lines on the bar scene. My favourite moment of each night was when frightened women approached me at the end of the shift to ask me to stand guard until some creep moved on. I took this role very seriously. This week I’d purchased a new accessory to my vested get-up: a bright red bow tie. I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror, trimmed my moustache, and thought of how Tony stumbled home drunk after choosing to spare that soccer coach of his mobster justice. 

“I didn’t hurt nobody,” he said to Carmela. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”

As I grabbed my things and headed out the door, I noticed the Ziploc of pills. There were four left now. The first one had gotten me into this productive headspace, so maybe another would help me tap-dance through this rest of this night. Why the fuck not, right? I’d been receiving upsetting emails, crazy messages, death threats. I couldn’t comprehend it all. Unzipping the bag, I cradled one pill in my palm then threw it back, washing it down with tap water. I was tired of feeling morally exhausted, defeated, exiled. I deserved a little pick-me-up. The clientele at Tony’s Taphouse would have no idea their doorman was rip-roaring high. I would be like Bodie from The Wire, standing on his corner while the hitmen descended. 

This is my corner! I ain’t going nowhere!

Before leaving, I decided to re-listen to Eminem’s duet with Rihanna, “Love the Way You Lie.” I watched my favourite rapper rock rhythmically back and forth amidst hip-high grass, his voice filled with regret and grief. Here was the ultimate embodiment of rape culture right here, the meta-Chris Brown taking swings at Megan Fox while Rihanna curls her lip. Thing was, Meghan Fox looked exactly like Paisley. The real one. And as Slim Shady rapped in front of a burning trailer, I couldn’t help but think of Ryan Tapp. I can’t tell you how it is really is, I can only tell you what it feels like. And right now it’s a steel knife in my wind pipe. 

Andrew Stevenson was waiting at the door, in a black balaclava, with the shotgun sticking out of his backpack. He cracked his knuckles together as I reached the top of the stairs.

“I need your help. You can never ask me about it later, and we’re going to hurt some people,” he said.

I blinked in surprise. “You’re quoting from The Town. That Ben Affleck bank robbery movie. Right? That scene with Jeremy Renner?”

He opened the front door.

“We’re going to hold court in the streets.”

The Kootenay Goon

[ricksbitchc-137]

Just One of Those Days

Can we all agree I suck at titles? All of my fics have terrible titles lol. Also I tend to italicize nearly every word I write, that’s a pattern in my fics. 

Written for a babe @bpd-rick-sanchez , This is lame, bear with me.

It was just one of those damn days.

 Everything was just fine-well, that was a blatant lie. Everything wasn't always fine, but things were a little decent before the depressive episode knocked the wind out of you and made you feel absolutely worthless.

So what were your options?

Do you keep it inside so you don't annoy anyone? Or do you tell someone about it on the huge chance they'll roll their eyes or laugh or-

 And it never ended. A nonstop cycle of back and forth, back and forth.

You hated it more so that you lived with your buddy Justin Roiland. You didn't want to tell him anything sad about yourself or ever talk about it with him, out of fear he'd lose any potential interest he may have had in you. He was always down to talk about literally everything, and shit could get deep with him. But you refrained from ever speaking up about your problems and your ever-growing crush on him.

Fortunately, though, Justin was gone for the day, due to a writer's room meeting for season 4 of Rick and Morty. So here you sat on the living room couch, huddled up in a blanket watching Community with glass of wine in hand. Even though you obtained a slight buzz, it wasn't enough to put you out of your misery. You weren't paying too much attention to Jeff and Britta's bickering, but when you heard a door shut you were shaken from your spiraling thoughts.

"Heyyo!" You heard Justin shout. "They didn't need me too much today, so I figured I'd just come home and hang with you." You were like a deer in headlights, unable to move or think as he approached you, definitely noticing how ridiculous you must have looked. "What are you-" he suddenly gave a laugh that melted your heart, and you quickly wiped away any stray tears that ran down your face.

He hopped next to you, sitting down and fidgeting with his Rubik's cube. "Just...one of those days, huh?" He hadn't spotted you crying, which was a good sign.

"Yeah," you replied, subconsciously sniffling. He snapped his head towards you. Shit.

"You uh, you okay?" Fuck. That question made your hand start trembling, so you put down your wine glass instead of spilling it everywhere like you knew you probably would.

"Yeah, totally!" you lied, hoping your fake cheeriness would win out and fool him.

"Psht, I don't believe you," he said, continuing to play with the cube. "You know you can talk to me any time, right?" Tears started to well up.

No I can't.

"I don't want to bother you." He stops fiddling for a moment, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Woah. You think...y-you think you bother me?" He puts his Rubik's cube down on the table in front of him, turning to focus solely on you.

"You never bother me. You never have, and never will, okay? Don't let your asshole of a brain get you down." He slung an arm around your shoulder and that's all it took for you to break, sobbing horrendously into your hands. "Hey," he cooed, pulling your head into his chest. "It's okay, I-I-I'm here." He spent a minute stroking your unbrushed hair. "Shh..."

"I just-I don't-I don't know why it hit me so hard today," you sobbed out, feeling ashamed for hanging onto Justin for dear life.

"Shit happens. It sucks, cuz you can't really...can't control it like you want to. And it-it-it does a number, man, but you'll get through this. I promise. I'm always here, even if you don't always see me." He tugged the blanket off of you, instead settling it on the two of you to get cozier. You sobbed your slightly tipsy self out, still gripping Justin's shirt and burying your face in his chest. Coyly you looked up in his ocean eyes, to which he gave you a sad grin, thumbing away your tears. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead, earning a heated blush from you.

"I love you," he said.

There was a brief moment of hesitation from him; his eyes were shut tightly and he was biting his lower lip, as if he accidentally let that slip.

"What?" You hiccupped, slightly leaning back in shock.

"I didn't...I didn't actually mean for that to come out...but like...yeah. Yeah, I do," he assured himself. "I have for a while."

You didn't exactly know what to say. The guy you'd been crushing on forever said he loved you. When does that shit happen? Never. Not ever.

“I…I love you too, Justin,” you stuttered out.

"Really? Good, cuz, just like this goddamned Rubik's cube I've been trying to solve for three days, I've been trying to solve you too." He pokes your nose, giggling a little. "You're a tough one to crack, sweetie. Th-the many beautiful faces you show, the complexities hidden underneath. I gotta...I gotta find out your algorithms, babe. And once I figure you out, I'm gonna love you even more."

[flauntpage]

Morning Wood: Sleeve of Wizard

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  The truth is, I was going to use that headline win or lose. A win would’ve been better, but at least we can now link our lede to headline by saying that the Wizards kept the Sixers at arm’s length.

Welcome to the Wood. The last time I did this on any consistent basis was 2012, before the Phillies totally shit in their beds and began a five-year hibernation in it. The purpose of Wood, besides making it generally difficult to pee, is to regale in tales of the previous night and celebrate our superior team. We don’t do it for all the teams because it’s a lot of work (a grind, if you will) and something is lost when you’re trying to make tongue-in-cheek, not-so-thinly-veiled sexual references of sports conquest for dreadful teams. It just wouldn’t work with a team who counted among its standout stars Jerami Grant, or had Alexey Shved on the roster. But this team, your team, your town… well, they’re worthy of such loosely scheduled morning posting.

For those of you who are new here, strap in, because the last time this series had its lifeblood pumping, we wound up making a t-shirt of a pissing horse. And for you OG CB readers, WELCOME BACK. I’ve missed you. Let me grind up on your hip as we awake from our slumber.

Let’s Wood!

  Start it off right

First, the necessaries: The Sixers lost a tight game, 120-115. Joel Embiid had 18 and 13 in 27 minutes (!!!), while Ben Simmons was borderline LeBron-like with 18, 10, 5 and 2 in 34. Markelle Fultz was, somehow, better than expected. And Robert Convington I think just hit another three-pointer from that deep, well-formed shooting pocket of his.

A loss is a loss is a stupid fucking phrase. But consider the Sixers were rolling out units that had literally never played together in a game, and two players who hadn’t yet played an NBA game, and Joel Embiid’s minutes algorithm, and Jahlil Okafor and new free agent signings, and players returning off injury against a well-formed, veteran, experienced team, on the road, and, well, yeah that was impressive. Unless of course you’re from the old school Philly sports mindset, in which case you have to FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING:

Sixers showed great promise in opener last night, but it's not enough. After 4 putrid seasons, they need to win games. And they didn't.

— Angelo Cataldi (@AngeloCataldi) October 19, 2017

This team should be beyond talking about positives in a loss. https://t.co/sfkMZCVxo2

— Reuben Frank (@RoobNBCS) October 19, 2017

It was their first game together. Their three best players had a combined 31 games playing experience. Their point guard was coming off a near season-long injury. Their shooting guard just arrived here. And they were leading at the half against John Wall and the Wizards.

Sure, I get that this might get old if they start 2-10, but let’s give them some time – I don’t know, like A GAME – to gel and get to know each other. JJ, I’m Joel, this is my friend Jahlil. I’m just kidding, nobody likes Jahlil. Want to grab a burger?

  The A team

Mike Breen – “A FOUL!” – and Jeff Van Gundy calling a Sixers game. God that feels good. No Mark Jackson last night, as Doris Burke joined in the three-man (er, person) booth. She’s great, actually. I like Jackson, too. A good “Mama, there goes that man” gets me horned up for hoops action like no other. Burke gets a full-time color commentator role. But Jackson will remain a part of the A-team once the playoffs come around.

Still, seeing the Sixers get the A-team treatment from ESPN feels good. I can’t imagine this crew has called a Sixers game over the last four years. I’m too lazy to look it up, and don’t know where I would, but suffice it to say, this was rare and, I guess, unexpected. We’ve arrived. And hearing Van Gundy gush over Simmons’ height was something to behold. Otto Porter is 6’8, and Simmons is much taller than him. He might be 7’0! Or hearing Breen remark that Simmons was playing “point center” as the biggest guy on the floor. Yeah, I’m all fucking in on that.

The halftime show, on the other hand…

Paul Pierce on Joel Embiid:

“I’m tired of getting a little taste of him . I want the whole load” http://pic.twitter.com/2VUpSZKKju

— BLACK ADAM SCHEFTER (@B1ackSchefter) October 18, 2017

Delicious.

That group, besides mispronouncing Embiid’s name and not knowing how long he’s been in the league (four years), was hit or miss, though I did appreciate their loss of words at the don’t call it a minutes restriction.

  Rebranding the minutes restriction

I LOVE how the Sixers have rebranded a “minutes restriction” to call it a “plan.” Nothing escapes the arm of their very large (according to this Philly.com story about their sales and marketing efforts) marketing department.

The last two days have been dominated by coverage of the incorrectly referred to minutes restriction, which, to be fair, was a phrase born more out of media branding than the Sixers themselves (Brown was clear this week that Embiid would have a range and not a hard cap). So what do the Sixers do? Let’s, ah, tweak the phrasing on that.

Brett Brown after the game:

“The rigid… whatever… pick a number. It’s more of a plan that we have this year rather than a restriction.”

And Joel Embiid:

“We gotta stop calling it a minutes restriction. I think the plan is to get out there, play, see how I feel. There’s gonna be some games where I’m gonna be tired… but yeah, we gotta stop calling it a minutes restriction. It’s a plan.”

Got it? Plan. Not a restriction. Or you can call it “fucking bullshit.”

  Markelle Fultz’s free throw form

Markelle Fultz’s free-throw form still looks a bit weird.

http://pic.twitter.com/wtMSQWM9a7

— NBA SKITS (@NBA_Skits) October 19, 2017

Yuck.

But, I thought Fultz actually played well. I think that observation is based partly on the fact that we’ve all reset our expectations with him. He’s not Simmons or Embiid. Few are. Those guys are both freaks in their own regard, and it’s unreasonable to expect any rookie, even the number one pick, to come out and look like a vet like those two guys have. Fultz is not only younger, but certainly more raw. Throw in the fact that he has some sort of shoulder injury and hasn’t been around an NBA coaching staff for 12+ months, and there’s going to be more of a learning curve with him. And despite his -18 number last night, I thought he played quite well. Attacked the rim, defended adequately, and wasn’t a liability out there.

But he’s not going to be the player we expect until he gets comfortable with his shot again. I mean, SHOOOOOOOOOOOT:

He didn’t.

  Robert Covington

I want to live in his shooting pocket. Just pitch a tent there and have wild sex parties. Everyone’s welcome. He shot lights-out. That pace isn’t sustainable, but him and Redick are a dynamic 1-2 three-point threat. Add in Embiid eventually getting more of his to fall and Fultz, you know, like taking one every once in a while, and that Sixers gravity is going to be full John Mayer.

But new rule: Robert Convington should never put the ball on the floor. Just shoot it or look around and pass. Never dribble.

  Almost throw it down

Oh if this had gone in… http://pic.twitter.com/dXSGbkUrk4

— Dan Levy (@DanLevyThinks) October 18, 2017

so close, joel http://pic.twitter.com/xo0bV0Xuen

— ALSO, KEITHFUJIMOTO (@vineydelnegro) October 18, 2017

This would have broken souls.

  Travel

Joel Embiid getting Sixers Fans FIRED UP in DC!!!#joelembiid #TrustTheProcess #HereTheyCome #nba http://pic.twitter.com/d9dlwW8klo

— Jeff Skversky 6abc (@JeffSkversky) October 18, 2017

Philly fans are the best. How many times did Breen and the rest of the crew comment on the Trust The Process chants? And it didn’t hurt that this guy was wearing a beautiful hoodie:

You can get that right here.

  So close

I think he meant Markelle Fultz.

  Embiid is the best

Joel Embiid does not care about your convention.

  Simmons

Ben Simmons was LeBron-like. The way he moves up the court, passes the ball, drives. It all looks so familiar.

LeBron’s per-36 stats in his NBA debut (he played 42 minutes) were 21, 8, 5 and 3. Last night, Simmons had 18, 10, 5 and 2 in 34 minutes. Not bad.

  Merch

You know what to do. Right here.

  Morning Wood: Sleeve of Wizard published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week thirty-eight

takin’ some time to think ‘bout the songs what all debuted on billboard between on 27 september 1997, 29 september 2007, and 30 september 2017

spoiler this is extra salty, hoo boy pop music is bad and no one should like it

9.27.1997

2) "4 Seasons of Loneliness," by Boyz II Men

Yep. Yep, this is a '90s R&B slo jamz. Just a bunch of dudes singing gently about how epic and powerful some feeling is -- in this case, loneliness, which, if you were not aware, is the opposite of love. See, what makes loneliness so fascinating is, when you're in love, you're a two, right? But when you're an alone, you're a one. And if you're a one for long enough, you will eventually be alone through all four of the seasons -- winter, spring, summer, and of course, faultumln. What a brilliant job Boyz II Men do of portraying what it would be like to be single for a year.

29) "Everything," by Mary J. Blige

This is like a '90s R&B dude song from the female song. "You are my trusted friend/On you I can depend." First off, way not to end the lyric with a preposition, but also, I think I've heard that "friend/depend" from 1997 R&B dudes at least 20 times. "It never occurred to me the first time I saw your face/I would fall so deep in love, that your love can't be replaced." Face/Replace sounds new? But I wouldn't be surprised if it popped up here and there across '90s R&B. This is a bit bouncier and more upbeat than the R&B dude fare -- it's not overdramatic, it's Mary J. Blige revelling in love, so at least it has that going for it. It just doesn't feel like its own thing.

79) "Don't Go," by Le Click ft./Kayo

How come people who make dance music are so shitty at making hot dance tracks? Like, every EDM song in 2017 sounds like the apocalypse, and every dance song from 1997 is the saddest goddamned thing I've ever heard. "Don't go, my feeling can't be wrong." Now urrbody in the club gettin' desperate. Like what even is this, why are we putting this song in front of that "I'm Too Sexy" beat I can't stop hearing because Tay Tay ruined everything, why, why.

88) "Off the Books," by The Beatnuts ft./Big Punisher & Cuban Link

You know what, I didn't mind them. Everyone rapped well, and I appreciated a look at a life of crime that wasn't about drugs. You can also evade taxes, or launder money! Those are less fun crimes to commit than drugs, but they do the trick if you're out of drugs. I don't know how much of this song actually invovled money laundering, I just know the hook was "ain't nothin' but crooks in here/gettin' mad money off the books in here," and the song wasn't really worth paying attention to, so I'm just sort of hoping it was about the intricacies of money laundering.

90) "Love Is Alive," by 3rd Party

So OK this is just basic Euro stupidity CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING AMAZON AD. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING AMAZON AD WHERE THE DOG WISHES IT COULD TALK TO THE HUMAN. What even is the song they use in that ad? How did they find it? Like did they commission a song specifically for that ad? That song had to be written for the ad. They filmed and edited the ad, went to a coffee shop three blocks from the office, and asked people to take two minutes to write a song about a dog that wishes it could talk to humans. It's the worst goddamn song in the world and I have to hear it 20 times a week until the ad campaign is over because of this stupid fucking thing I'm doing. That's not fair. That's not fair! Why would you increase the degree of difficulty? I know it's late in the game, it's not supposed to be easy, but you're supposed to let me win. "I wish I could ask you how was your day." YOU'RE A DOG. YOU WISH FOR MEATS, AND THE DAY YOU DIE WILL BE THE HAPPIEST BECAUSE THAT IS THE DAY YOU GET TO HAVE A CHOCOLATE SOMETHING.

9.29.2007

14) "Good Life," Kanye West ft./T-Pain

This song is ridiculous because Kanye eventually is inspired by T-Pain to use Auto-tune on himself and makes three miserable masterpieces that affect pop/hip-hop for a decade, and this song is like the bounciest most triumphant thing off Graduation. Like you can trace a direct line from this song, with its jubilant T-Pain line and that delightful "more ass than the models" drop, to Lil Uzi Vert, who makes boring songs about how dark his mind is.

61) "1, 2, 3, 4," Feist

For some reason the top YouTube search result for this song is not this song, but rather the Plain White T's song. I hate that this is my algorithm. Also we talked about lineages, and we talked about the Amazon ad, and you can draw a direct line from this song's surprising rise to popularity to that goddamned Amazon ad. We made a folksy indie artist popular, and a decade later, we have a folksy indie-sounding song about a dog staring at a human and saying "UNDERSTAND ME! WHY?????" Like I'm listening to this song, and I'm no longer hearing the Apple ad, I'm hearing Linda from corporate's ringtone, because Linda from corporate downloaded the song from the Amazon ad. "It makes me so happy when the puppy talks to the baby!" Guys I'm not well.

86) "Inconsolable," Backstreet Boys

I feel like I'm on the precipice of an amazing joke or insight but all my brain is doing is staring at the words "Twenty years of not understanding why they keep giving AJ solos." Hey you wanna hear something bonkers? Two of the Backstreet Boys hadn't turned 30 when this song had been released. How the fuck are you gonna be in your late 20s and making adult contemporary jams. How is your life this over before you're at least 32. Also one of the Backstreet Boys was 36 in 2007. Sir, you are a Backstreet Man. I don't know what your problems are, but I can see you have several.

88) "Do It," Nelly Furtado

I mean, it exists. Like it just sort of starts, and then it doesn't stop. I felt like I was listening to this song for 1000 years because it just kept saying "do it like you do it to me." Except like I'd imagine this person is doing it to Nelly Furtado, so I guess I just don't understand why she wouldn't just urge him to keep doin' it? But then the song just faded out, and I'm just here like, did I actually listen to something? Was I supposed to hear a story, is this, is this a rough draft? Did they intend on polishing this before the release? "So you released the album before you finished the last track! Big deal! Everyone makes mistakes, everyone has those days, as we are fond of saying in 2007! But we will be releasing this as a single so the whole world can hear what a bad job you did."

93) "I'm So Hood," DJ Khaled ft./T-Pain, Trick Daddy, Rick Ross & Piles

Oh, DJ Khaled group cuts, at least you're never awful. You might only whelm, and I might think Piles is just an absolute zero of a person, but it's typically pleasant to hear you when you appear. DJ Khaled: not the worst since 2007.

94) "Sweetest Girl (Dollar Bill)," Wyclef Jean ft./Akon, Lil' Wayne & Niia

This would be a really touching song if it sounded like anyone on this track had spent time thinking about what it means to be a sex worker. Like I'm not tryna get all tumblr here, it's just, there's so many societal forces which combine to force someone into stripping, and these dudes are just like, "She used to be so nice! Such a shame she's doing this thing. Stupid money!" Like no there's so much more to it than that. But I'm also not sure Lil Wayn is in tune with the day's social issues. Also, heck is Lil Wayn doing on this song? It kind of feels like Lil Wayn was 100% on board with strip clubs for most of his career. This song is an outlier. I don't think Lil Wayne really think it's a tragedy when someone turns to stripping.

95) "My Drink n' My 2 Step," Cassidy ft./Swizz Beatz

This song is surprisingly good and I'm actually angry that the song I think of when I think of Cassidy is "Hotel" and not this jam. Cassidy's pretty much a one-hit wonder, but this should've been the hit.

96) "Firecracker," Josh Turner

This is a cute song and Josh Turner hits some gonzo low notes, but mostly I'm now obsessed with this idea of some country dude at some point calling his dick a firecracker. Like, I think it's nice he's calling his girl a firecracker, but there's gotta be a country dude somewhere making a joke about "don't get hurt holdin' my firecracker!" right? Or maybe we could use the Southern man's propensity for getting himself injured playing with firecrackers as a euphemism for masturbation. I dunno. I'm ready to move on, but if anyone wants to start making a bro country album with me, I am willing to chase this dog.

99) "Me Enamora," Juanes

This kind of sounds like the fun Latin song on a 2016 Backstreet Boys album. Like, it just doesn't sound as fun or as exotic as the Latin pop explosion of 2017. I think I'm just reacting to the presence of a dude playing guitar in the video. Like, that's how you remove mystique from a person, is just strap a guitar around them. That tells you he's the sort of person who walks around telling people he's a "storyteller" and Bob stop now before you just 100% rip off "guitar guy at the party."

100) "Kiss Kiss," Chris Brown ft./T-Pain

hey guess what nope

30 September 2017

5) "Too Good at Goodbyes," by Sam Smith

at first i thought "i have sang this song before" in the first verse and i was all "hey, thanks for writing my review buddy!" 'cuz like no shit he's sang this song before, this is the only song sam smith has ever song, the only emotion sam smith has ever felt in all his life is "melancholy" and his songs are bland and without flavor as a result, they're just pointlessly sad, also i said fuck you at my computer when the choir kicked in, like seriously of goddamn course a choir, titanic was less predictable

44) "Dusk Till Dawn," by ZAYN ft./Sia

You know what kinda ticked me off about this song that I'm not sure should tick me off but whatever? The chorus, where Zayn goes "I'll be waiting for right he-e-e-e-eeee-ee-e-e-e-eeeeee-e heeee-e-e-e-e-eeee-e-eeeere?" Like what are you trying to do with that long note if you have to take a breath during the middle of it? That rest doesn't add any tension, it only serves to take people out of the song and say, "Why'd you stop singing, dude? It sounded like you were just gonna keep singing for a few seconds. You lack breath control? Is that it? Zero technical skill, ZAYN?" But it's entirely possible I'm the only person annoyed by that. And it's also possible I just wanted to be annoyed at something in particular, rather than just pointing at this song and shouting "BAD" like I did in the first draft. Because hoo boy, this ain't a hot one!

62) "Love So Soft," by Kelly Clarkson

OH GOD YES KELLY IS ON THE HORN BANDWAGON. I WAS SO READY FOR THOSE HORNS, I KNOW HOW POP MUSIC'S BEEN TRENDING THIS YEAR, I WAS WORRIED THIS WOULD JUST BE A BALLAD FROM THE TITLE, BUT THERE IS LIGHT HORNAGE and also this is the best Kelly song in years. The thing her voice does when she sings "it sure gonna cost YOU" is pure and it also does a million other things because it just flies around this song, Kelly Clarkson is flexing on all these young women who've got a vocal range of "whispering." The last few weeks, we've seen a good Kesha song, a good Demi song, and this Kelly Clarkson masterpiece, and I never wanna hear from goddamn Fifth Harmony ever again, not when the standard has been set.

73) "I'll Name the Dogs," by Blake Shelton

one of my favorite tweets of all time said, "would you like some traditional gender rolls? my wife made them while i was at work," and that is all i can think of most days, but also especially while listening to this song. "you find the spot and i'll find the money/you be the pretty and i be the funny." i am too logged on to ever accept this song.

80) "Found You," by Kane Brown

i would like to rescind my interest in kane brown for the time being. "what ifs" was intense, but this is knock-off sam hunt, which is itself akin to store-brand wheat thins. whatever about kane brown's vocal work on "what ifs" has completely vanished, he sort of rotates between three notes, and the lyrics are completely devoid of character, it's just, "it would have been sad if we never dated" over The Electric Drum Beat. i expected better, sir, but i hope you can be better.

81) "Gucci Gang," by Lil Pump

...Well, at least I only had to waste two minutes of my life listening to The Trap Song. At some point, these songs will be four measures long and instead of lyrics they'll just make the fun trill noises. Honestly, the trill noises? Very good. I love dudes are just going "brr!" and rolling their rs.

85) "No Limit," by G-Eazy ft./A$AP Rocky & Cardi B

You know what I like about Cardi B? This is G-Eazy's song, but Cardi B comes on the track to say, "Put a white boy on a song, I might turn G-Eazy out." In Cardi B's mind, this is her song, and while this is not Kendrick on "Control," given how awful G-Eazy's verse and how cringey Rocky's hook is, I'm willing to believe it. Still, I'm really excited for Cardi B as she increases in power and becomes more and more able to take songs from the main artist. But not this one, I don't wanna listen to this song again, it's super bad.

98) "Pills and Automobiles," by Chris Brown ft./Yo Gotti, A Boogie Wit da Hoodie & Kodak Black

Yeah, I'm all good on hearing about the things Chris Brown does in cars.

99) "Let Me Go," by Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso ft./Florida Georgia Line & watt

We've given the song from the Amazon ad about a dog that wishes it could interact with the baby a lot of guff, but at least I had a reaction to it, which is more than I can say for this song. Why are there so many people on this track? How did Florida Georgia Line even get here? What did they add to this song that literally any other male singer couldn't? A second, even more useless voice? Who is watt? Am I supposed to know who watt is already? This song is dumb. I'm going to listen to "Love So Soft" fifty times.

Who won the week?

I mean. No one? 1997 was all boring, 2007 had a very good song and an ok song (Cassidy made the third-best song I heard this week. Cassidy), and 2017 has an incredible song, and then I listened to things that weren’t good for an hour. I think 2017′s gonna get it because “Love So Soft” is a lock for the top ten, whereas “Good Life” probably doesn’t make the Top 20, jubilant and lovely as it is. So basically “Love So Soft” is Kevin Garnett on the Timberwolves, just dragging a bunch of scrublords into the playoffs.

1993: 13 2007: 12 2017: 13

Next week, 1997 presents us with Aaliyah, Fiona Apple, and everyone’s favorite way to fulfill the Rule of Three: The Kinleys! 2007 responds with James Blunt, so, y’know, that’s gonna be something we have to spend time thinking about. And 2017 will give us a sassy young woman belting over horns, a tropical beat from a DJ of note, a trap song with a thousand trills, Latin pop IF WE’RE LUCKY, a song by a member of One Direction, and content from a shitheel.