#-marvel internal got really embarrassed that the team just finally got set up at the end of ewing's run (for like the 5th time)-

[phantastragoria]

Random but wtf is going on with the comics? Why is the cowboy one #1 and the bane of blastaar one also #1? Are there two runs going on or something?

Oh it's because Marvel loves branding anything as #1 lol the cowboy one is the only current Guardians ongoing at the moment, with issue #2 coming out later in May. Bane of Blastaar was a one-shot and won't have any consecutive issues coming out directly related to it, think of it as a filler episode from an anime basically. In-universe it's set sometime after the end of Ewing's run and before the current ongoing.

Now there IS a current Avengers Infinity series featuring the Guardians currently going on Marvel Unlimited, it's set in the same vague point of time as the Blastaar one, it updates each Monday for the next few weeks I think? The Guardians seem to just be like guest stars featured in it though.

[randomshyperson]

Can I request a celebrity AU with Elizabeth Olsen and Female Reader? Where R is Vision in the MCU. And like throughout a series of interviews and behind the scenes shots, you can see how the two actually fall in love in real life. And in like the final interview they ask “Are you two dating?” And this time they can finally say yes

Hello darling, how are you? I hope well. This took me a while, and i’m not sure you’re even going to like it. But i hope you do. It was honestly kind of strange to write for Lizzie, i kept mistaken the name as Wanda. Also, i changed your idea a bit, because i could find the right way to write the interviews. But anyway, here it is. Good reading.

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Love is outside the screen

Summary: The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: None.

Words:  4.308 words  //// Read on AO3

Marks:  @wandamaximoffpuppy

Part. 2  || Part 3

Eight years ago

Your agent was calling you for the third time, and you thought you should answer before you lost your contract.

Letting out an impatient sigh as you reached for your cell phone, you left it on speaker.

- Hello, Sara. - You say with a slight irony as you relax your body in the water of the jacuzzi again.

- It's not polite to ignore someone who keeps you employed. - she said irritated, making you laugh.

- Sorry, but I told you I was on vacation. - You reminded her. - And what did you keep doing? Oh yes, calling me.

- Don't be so grumpy, woman. - She replied with a light humor in her voice, and you could hear the clatter of keystrokes, suggesting that she was working. - I have an opportunity for you.

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity, but said nothing. And by your silence, Sara kept talking.

- Tell me, have you ever thought about being a superhero?

You let out an incredulous laugh, thinking it was a joke. 

- I'm not going to make any weird latex movies, Sara. - You warn her, and she lets out a laugh.

- Actually, honey, it's Marvel.

You blink in surprise, and then turn to rest your arms on the edge of the jacuzzi and look directly at your cell phone.

- What are you talking about? 

- Ah, caught your interest, huh? - She remarks. - You actors are all the same, one famous name and you fall to your knees.

- Sara...

- No, it's okay. - She giggles. - They want a openly queer actress to play a lesbian heroine, I think. And then they called me.

- Wow, Marvel doing something like that? - You comment. - It sounds like a lie.

Sara giggles.

- It pays well anyway. - She says, and then a notification pops up on the screen. - I just sent you the script. Let me know if I can confirm your audition.

You let out a sigh before saying goodbye and hanging up, grabbing your cell phone to read the script.

It is the scene description of your character's appearance, and there is also a note for the chemistry test. You bite your lips thoughtfully. You were known in the media for roles in international, indie and cult films, mostly lesbian romance. You had a few academy nominations, and had been awarded twice by the critics. Superheroes were not really what you were looking for. But then you remembered how much you missed having a lgbt reference in media like this, and then you are sending a message to your agent confirming your audition.

//-//

Present

You are twiddling your thumbs in your dressing room. It must be the ninth interview in less than two weeks. Letting out a sigh, you stand up, momentarily looking at your appearance in the mirror. The make-up team did a good job, you look well. And then you are walking outside, to the dressing room next to yours. 

You knock on the door, and are soon answered. But Elizabeth doesn't smile when she pulls you inside.

- Hey, Lizzie, what's up? - you ask worriedly as you close the door. The next second she's hugging you tight, and you sigh. - You're anxious, aren't you?

- I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my mouth. - She grumbles and you start stroking her back, trying to calm her down.

- Remember that exercise we practiced, okay? - You ask her tenderly as you move your feet so that you move together toward the sofa in the living room. You break the embrace slowly, to sit Lizzie down on the couch as you kneel in front of her. She looks on the verge of tears, and you place your hands on top of hers. - Breathe with me, okay?

It will take you many minutes to calm her down, but you don't care. And then she smiles, and brings your foreheads together.

- Thank you. - She whispers before kissing you. She walks away too quickly in your opinion, but you can't say anything because the producer is calling you next, announcing that the interview starts in two minutes. You smile at Liz before getting up.

//-//

Seven years ago.

You had just finished filming your last scene in Age of Ultron when your agent called you. Scrolling your finger quickly across the screen, you answered while your cell phone rested on the table in your dressing room, and you kept your hands busy trying to pin up your hair.

- I'm leaving the studio, Sara, what's up? - you told her.

- I wanted to congratulate you on the affair, although I'm surprised it happened so quickly. - She says and you frown in confusion, finishing up with your bun. You pick up your cell phone next.

- What are you talking about?

Sara giggles, and sends you an attachment. You pull your cell phone away from your ear to look at it. It is a photo of you and Elizabeth, your teammate and romantic partner in the franchise, taken the same day you discovered Liz had social anxiety and took her out for coffee with you to take her focus off the celebrity world for a while. The paparazzi managed to capture the exact moment when you kissed her on the cheek in farewell. 

- This is all over the gossip sites as Marvel's mysterious romantic couple. - Your agent commented, and you rubbed your fingers across your forehead in irritation.

- You want me to publicly deny a relationship, is that it? - you ask, walking around the dressing room and gathering your things.

- What? No! This is great for advertising. - she says with slight excitement in her voice. - Especially after the movie comes out! Fans love couples who fall in love behind the screen.

You roll your eyes, switching your cell phone to your ear.

- I'm not going to make a relationship contract if that's what you're thinking! - You say with irritation and can imagine Sara rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

- Yes, yes, we've been over this, Miss Morally Correct. - She scoffs lightly. - But I really called to talk about the premiere. We have details to discuss.

Sighing, you ask her to wait. Then you finished putting your things away, and grabbed the phone as you walked out the door.

//-//

Six years ago, California

Interviewers can be motherfuckers when they want to be, you thought as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your face impassive as you watched the woman in front of you list the "missed moments" from the Avengers set. You knew that your agent had talked to the show's staff about the authorized questions, and yet here you were on live television, having to declare whether the timely photos taken on the Avengers set meant that you had a secret relationship with your best friend Elizabeth Olsen.

A slideshow was playing on the screen behind you. There were pictures from the footage, many where you and Liz were laughing together, or having lunch together. There were some where she was sitting on your lap, or vice versa. Your expression softened when you noticed one where she was looking at you adoringly. It was so strange to be an artist sometimes. You smiled politely at the presenter.

- Come on, Ellen, you know how these things are. - You said. - Things are different on camera, Lizzie and I are friends.

The audience let out a chorus of displeasure, and Ellen laughed lightly.

- You know that many of the fans would like this rumor to be true, especially since you two play a couple and you are openly queer. - She says, and you wiggle your fingers in your lap, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, but you nod in agreement. - Furthermore, you say that the paparazzi cameras are deceiving, but what about the stories you post on your personal networks?

She asks with a chuckle, and then other videos are playing on the screen, and you force yourself to smile and watch.

The vast majority are harmless, and platonic. You spend a lot of time at Liz's house because when she moved in, you were her reference and tour guide, and so you got into the habit of checking up on her. And then you became friends and you spent more time at her house than at yours.There were many videos and pictures on yours and her instagram where you two were tending a garden, playing board games, cooking together, or watching sports.  You bit back a smile as you watched the memories through the images. 

- See?It's hard to believe that this is just platonic. - Ellen insisted again, and the audience laughed.  You tried to cover it up with a smile. - But since you claim to be single, we're going to play a game now. It's called "Who Would You Rather?

The audience applauded and you giggled, straightening your posture in your chair. And then the studio screen had a sign with the name of the game.

- It's very simple, you just have to choose which of the artists you would rather. - She explains, and you blink.

- Rather what?

Ellen lets out a giggle, and you understand, nodding in embarrassment. The audience laughs. The picture changes to two pictures.

- Who would you rather, Scarlett Johansson or Chris Hemsworth?

- Wow, that sounds like a trap. - You comment awkwardly, making the audience laugh. And then you bite your lips. - I think Scarlett.

Ellen gives you a suggestive look, and the audience chuckles, you force yourself to imitate them. The picture changes again.

- Scarlett or Sebastian Stan?

You laugh, smoothing your hair slightly.

- I don't know, I think Seb. - You answer. And then the picture changes again, and you want to run away when the audience gives a chorus of excitement.

- Sebastian Stan or Elizabeth Olsen?

- There it is the trap. - You comment clumsily, causing the audience to bust out laughing. You swallow dryly and look down at your lap before saying. - I'd say Elizabeth Olsen.

You played for a few more minutes, and then the game ended with you choosing Elizabeth at the end, which got the audience cheering and celebrating. When the interview was over, Sara was calling you, and you were massaging your forehead when you answered.

- I thought you said you two weren't dating. - She teased, and you grumbled in irritation. 

- I thought you had discussed these matters with the staff. - You retorted, slightly irritated. - She only asked me about Lizzie and dating the entire interview.

- Honey, you're America's sweet couple. - She sneered. - Ellen wants viewers and will ask the questions that the audience wants to know.

- That's ridiculous. - You said and then sighed. - Why did you call me anyway?

- I have your new shooting location, so get your coats and jackets ready.

//-//

Six years ago, Berlin.

You are laughing at Anthony's imitation of Robert. Sitting in the shared dining hall, you were having a good time over lunch with your other colleagues while you were recording Civil War.

And then you were in scene again, many minutes later, and you found it strange that the nervousness was crossing beyond your character during a specific scene in which you were counteracting with Elizabeth. 

You saw her laughing at a comment your character made, and you should have this expression of surprise and embarrassment, but you didn't even have to act it out. Your cheeks reddened naturally at the image of Liz laughing. And then the director said cut when you were done and you were rushing out to clean up your makeup.

Later that day, after the shoot was over, the team wanted to visit a local pub, and you accepted the invitation, ignoring the previous event, and smiling when Elizabeth touched your arm to get your attention.

- A toast to the Avengers! - shouted the camera crew chief when you were all gathered at the bar, you thought maybe he had had too much to drink, but you joined in the toast. 

You stood next to Lizzie and Chris at a table while sipping a dark drink that might have been craft beer, or something German.

Your cell phone vibrates with a notification and you choke in surprise at the content of the message. Sara had sent you a note from TMZ, stating that your secret romance with Elizabeth Olsen was threatened because you had been seen leaving a coffee shop with Katie McGrath. 

Chris and Lizzie look at you curiously, and you just lay your cell phone down on the table for them to see while you turn the entire glass of beer in your mouth.

- Wow, so your type really is super heroines. - Chris commented with a smile, and you laugh, pushing him away slightly. 

- I swear, I can't be seen talking to any woman that she is automatically my girlfriend. - You say irritated as you put your beer glass back on the table. Your gaze returns to Lizzie, who has picked up your cell phone from the table and is reading the news. Then she hands the phone back to you, and gets a strange look on her face that you can't read very well, but she forces a smile.

- At least you cheated on me with a pretty girl. - she says and you frown in surprise. Chris laughs at the joke, but before you could have any other reaction, the rest of the team is joining you.

//-//

Five years ago, California.

You gave up fighting the questions about your relationship with Elizabeth. They would happen anyway, whether your agent talked to the teams or not, so you just smiled politely when you told people you were just friends and remained truthful in your statements. 

Usually the interviews with Lizzie were easier, because you went into protective mode and your brain was ready to give sharp, snappy answers to keep Elizabeth from being embarrassed. 

So here you were on the Night Show, with one of your favorite interviewers, and your best friend by your side. Jimmy was asking good questions, and he was funny. You hoped he wouldn't ask anything too embarrassing.

After many questions about employment, and worldview, which was refreshing, he finally asked you about the rumors of your secret relationship.

- Girls, you know that the public wants to know. - He began with a smile, and you laughed lightly, exchanging a look with Lizzie. - And actually, we have arguments this time.

- Here we go. - You commented with light irony which made the audience laugh. 

Your latest posts on instagram were visible on the big screen.

- Last Tuesday, both of you posted these stories on your personal accounts. - Jimmy started with excitement. - And it rocked the internet completely, because the location was visible on your instagram, Elizabeth.

Lizzie let out an embarrassed giggle.

- Well, if the public's doubt is whether we were together there, they can confirm it. - She said, and Jimmy let out an excited exclamation. Lizzie waited for the audience to stop their celebratory chorus before speaking again. - But this was a special celebration, since it was my birthday. 

- And I took her on a trip to Mexico. - You completed the story with a slight smile. The audience let out a chorus of happiness and you looked at them in confusion. - Guys, friends do this!

Jimmy and the audience laughed for a moment and then the image came off the screen.

- Come on girls, you're giving us material. - He remarked with a smile. - And you're still going to deny the relationship like you always do, I imagine.

You and Wanda exchange a short chuckle.

- Look, Jimmy, all I have to say is that Lizzie is amazing, she really is. - You saw yourself confessing. - Anyone would be lucky to date this brilliant, spectacular, sweet, fun-loving woman. But that person is not me.

Jimmy lets out an exclamation of sadness along with the audience, but then they applaud your words, and you smile wryly. You risk a glance at Lizzie for a second, and she has slightly flushed cheeks, and looks surprised at your words.

You ignore the nervous feeling at the pit of your stomach, and decide to keep your posture polite as you answer the next questions.

//-//

Four years ago.

You had to kiss Lizzie. And then you shook your head. No, not you. Vision. Your character, Vision, had to kiss Lizzie's character, Wanda Maximoff. And you repeated this like a mantra as you walked from your dressing room to the set.

The day you read this scene, you smiled politely at your agent, and disguised any apparent nervousness. And then you spent the last few weeks pretending that if you didn't think about it, eventually the director would make a change and the scene wouldn't even exist. But here you were, trying to have one last drop of professionalism.

You weren't even recording the scene officially, it was just the rehearsal of lines and marking, and you had sweaty hands. 

As you walked through the studio, the staff smiled and greeted you, and then you spotted Lizzie and ignored the uneven beating of your heart.

- Let's get started girls. - announced Russo as soon as he caught sight of you. He signaled for you to follow the team's prearranged schedule. You smiled at Lizzie as you took your place. - We can test the order of the scene directly. I need to know which angle is best to have Vision ask Wanda to stay with her.

And then you started recording. And now you were Vision. There was no time to think about how naturally your hand fit into Lizzie's, or how good it felt to feel her hugging you. And then Russo shouted cut again.

- That's pretty good. - He commented, looking at the monitor. - Let's shoot the stone scene okay, then the action scene.

The scene started, and you said your lines the way you were supposed to. And then you were looking at Lizzie, and she kissed you as the script said. You held the sigh in your throat, and pulled away. Vision doesn't sigh, so you shouldn't either. And then you are smiling as written, and the director closes the scene again.

You were getting pretty good at hiding how affected you are by Lizzie the more you kiss her onstage. And then you wrap up the day's shooting, and you are mentally exhausted. You want to sleep in your dressing room, but you decide to go home.

And as you are walking back to your car, Lizzie calls out to you.

- Hey, partner. - She greets me by walking beside you. - Don't you want to go for a drink tonight?

You let out a sigh, ignoring the urge to shout that you would go anywhere with her, and thinking about how tired your body is.

- I'm exhausted, Lizzie. - You tell her, and she looks upset, but you add with a smile. - But I'll take it if it's something at your place.

Lizzie's face lights up quickly, and she nods, and then says she'll leave something in her car. She returns when you are already in yours.

- All set? - You ask to confirm, and she smiles and nods. And then you start the car and drive out of the studio.

Lizzie turns on the car stereo a moment later, and you begin humming the song.

- You've been distant lately. - She comments distractedly as you drive away. - You know you can talk to me, right?

You smile, ignoring the feeling in your stomach.

- Yes, Lizzie. - You say without taking your eyes off the road. - I'm just busy, that's all. It's nothing.

Lizzie makes a noise of agreement and looks away. You think maybe she believes you're not telling her the truth, and you feel guilty. So you decide to change the subject.

- How are things at home, Liz? Are Mary-Kate and Ashley well? - you ask, and she looks at you quickly.

- Everything's fine. - she says, and then she bites her lip. - Did I do something?

You frown, glancing quickly at her before looking down the street again. The light was red. And when you turn your head toward her, she lets out a sigh.

- You don't talk to me anymore. - She says seriously, looking at you. - Since Berlin, you're just distant. Always busy, and with ready-made answers. And now you try small talk, even though you hate it. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

Your heart is racing at the accusations, because she is absolutely right. And then you swallow dry, and prepare to speak, but then Liz is pointing ahead, the headlight has opened. And you have to drive, and she crosses her arms and looks away to the window.

You drive the rest of the way to her house in silence, and when you park the car in the driveway, she mumbles a goodnight before getting out. 

Squeezing the steering wheel in your fingers, you take a deep breath. And then you get out of the car, and the noise of the door opening surprises her because she turns to look. But you are walking toward her, and raising your hand to the back of her neck, bringing your mouths together. Lizzie chokes in surprise, but in the next second she melts against you as she kisses you back.

You part breathlessly, holding your foreheads together.

- I am in love with you. - You confess. - I'm sorry I was a complete idiot, but I was terrified.

Lizzie giggles, kissing you again quickly before hugging you. And then she is breaking the embrace to look at you, a shy smile on her lips.

- I'm in love with you too. - she says. - I'm glad that's the problem and not something else.

You laugh, and kiss her one last time before entwining your hands and walking toward her house.

You decide to take things slow, so naturally, two weeks later, you ask her to be your girlfriend over dinner. Lizzie smiles all night, but you know that if this is a secret, she can't wear the ring.

Public relationships mean contracts, and agents, and unwanted questions, and lots of opinions about your lives. And you two wanted to keep that to yourselves for the time being.

So when directors comment that your onstage chemistry is amazing, you two just nod and thank them. When the interviewers ask if you are together, you deny it as before.

The first time you sleep with Lizzie, you almost break the bed. And it's all right, because you two are laughing with happiness and pleasure, and she pulls you in for another kiss. And you entwine your hands, the commitment rings on your fingers.

A year and a half later, you are getting very busy with your participation in a youth series, and there are many rumors that you are dating your co-star, so Lizzie is jealous and you can't blame her. 

You decide that the secret cannot go on any longer, at least not to your friends and employers. So you talk to Lizzie, and you both call your agents. Sara laughs for ten minutes when you tell her, but she is happy to talk to Lizzie's agent. You are not public yet, but it is important that all parties are in agreement. You hate bureaucracy, but you don't mind as long as Lizzie's hand is in yours. Your friends are very happy, and the other cast members tease you constantly about it.

When you shoot the last movie, you think you are going to be fired because your character has died. But then you and Lizzie get a series together.

You try not to overthink how you will deny the rumors on television, but Lizzie kisses you on the cheek and tells you that you will face it together. 

It takes three more months for you to propose. You think your chest will explode with happiness when she accepts.

And then you are calling your agents again, and Sara almost faints when you tell her that you got married in secret at some registry office in the Caribbean and she needs to get the paperwork sorted out. When you get back to California, there is a small ceremony with your family members.

//-//

Present

You and Lizzie are sitting side by side in the interview. The questions about WandaVision are over, and now you know from Jimmy's expression what he is going to say.

- The last time you were here, I had only an instagram post as an argument for your secret relationship. - He says, making you, Lizzie and the audience laugh lightly. - But now I have talked to the production and they prepare a presentation.

- My goodness. - You remark, making him laugh. And then he waves to the big screen, and you try to disguise your nervousness.

A presentation of images began to play to the audience to the sound of "honeybee" by the band "The Head and The Heart". There are several studio shots, from photo rehearsals to behind-the-scene moments. There is a picture from the day you met, from the first cast test, from the Avengers taping, paparazzi shots of you laughing in the parking lot, or in the open areas. There are pictures of you walking around Los Angeles together, pictures of your rides, or your travels. There are clippings from instagram stories where you spend time together, laughing and hugging. The presentation ends with the BTS photo of WandaVision from the first day of recording where you have your arm around Lizzie, and the two of you are laughing.

You clear your throat away the emotion, but Lizzie wipes her eyes lightly.

- That was very beautiful. - She comments as Jimmy hands her a piece of tissue paper. The audience bursts into tears of excitement.

- I guess we can get to the part where you deny everything now can't we? - Jimmy jokes and you smile and straighten your posture.

- Actually, Jimmy, we have something to announce.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Gold Rush (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Summary: Your career was blossoming, especially with your new role in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working on set was a dream come true. It was never your intention to fall for one of your coworkers. Not when you knew that he would never look at you that way.

Words: 2,637

Warnings: language, it’s Anthony Mackie’s world & we’re just living in it, angst, feeeeeels, maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t, we’ll never know, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Inspired by: “gold rush” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

You scored big time when you were casted in the upcoming Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working alongside Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan had been more than you had ever wished for. The atmosphere on set was harmonious. Everything would have been fine if it were not for your stupid crush on your fellow castmate. Mackie picked up on the fact that you liked Sebastian almost immediately & he teased you about it one too many times. No matter how obvious his teasing, it seemed like Sebastian was completely oblivious to it. Or he acted as if he had no clue. You were not quite sure about that.

The press tour was going strong, which meant that Seb, Mackie & you were teamed up for every interview. Now, that was not something that bothered you too much. After all, you were more than comfortable around them. But when some interviewers did not know where the line was, you got frustrated. Like, okay, we got it. Everyone with eyes knew Seb was hot. But as an interviewer, you should know when to stop. Shamelessly flirting in front of the camera with basically a stranger? Sorry, but you had no explanation for such a behavior. Yes, some interviewers flirted with you, too. But you were great when it came to brushing them off while staying polite. Of course, Mackie’s teasing did not make this any easier for you. Every now & then, he would bring up the chemistry you & Seb shared on screen. And off screen. Like usual, you laughed at him & so did Seb. During interviews, you teased each other a lot, it was a playful manner you all enjoyed. And the audience loved the three of you for it.

Sometimes, when Seb answered a question that had him explain scenes with you or something similar, you hated the butterflies you felt inside. You hated how your cheeks warmed up. You hated that he had such an effect on you. You hated Seb. You hated him for being so perfect. You hated him for being a literal God. You hated him for ruining every other man for you. Because nobody could ever compare to him. And you said that even though you were not even in a relationship. Hell, you were not the only person who looked at him that way. If the interviews were not proof enough, a look at social media did the job, too.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

“So (Y/N)…” the man sitting opposite of you started. It was not a lot of times that questions were directed at you. Usually, people were more excited to talk to the guys. No offense taken. “The chemistry between Sebastian & you can be felt even after such a short trailer. My question is…are you two, like, a thing?” of course. If you got a question, it was about your love life or about how great you looked in your suit. The others got complex & well thought through questions & you got this shit. Internally rolling your eyes, you stayed professional & answered casually.

“Sebby & I are friends. We work well together. We know each other well enough to communicate with our eyes, body language & so on. Some people mistake that for dating, apparently.” finishing off with a sarcastic chuckle, you had to hide the fact that you wished that there was more between you two.

“I gotta say. Even I think they’re dating sometimes.” Mackie smirked when he spoke up which earned him a light slap from you. Seb only hid his face behind his hand & laughed quietly. It was nothing new. You were used to his teasing by now. Looking over at Seb, you could not help but admire him. Even when he was embarrassed, to you, he was the most beautiful person on this planet. Not a single flaw. Just…perfect. If only you had enough courage to do something about your damn feelings.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

“Stop that.” Mackie walked over to where you were sitting. Finally, you had a break after hours of giving interview after interview. Looking up, your face turned into one of pure confusion.

“Stop what?” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at your question.

“The daydreaming.” it was a simple statement. But why would he tell you to stop that?

“What? Is it forbidden to daydream now?” chuckling at him, you offered him one of your coffee cups. Your handler brought you two because you had not slept much that night. But Mackie needed one just as much & he gladly accepted it. Still, he could tell that you were trying to change the topic. Not with him, though. Sitting beside you, he sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he looked straight forward when he asked that question. Your face fell at his words but maybe, maybe, if you played dumb, you could get out of this conversation without any awkwardness.

“Tell who what?” your innocent eyes bore into his side profile & you saw him shaking his head slightly. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Tell Seb you like him or I will.” he stated & your eyes widened in fear.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” exclaiming frantically, you grew more nervous at the thought.

“I wouldn’t trust that thought.” & after a few seconds of silence, you breathed out loudly.

“Yeah, sure. And I’d risk our friendship for that? Forget it.”

“He likes you, too, you know?” he casually stated. Your face changed, but only for a second. He was wrong. Someone like Seb could never like you back.

“Stop, Mackie. Don’t just run around assuming shit.” you pushed his shoulder playfully but it did not do too much. What a surprise.

“My running around assuming shit isn’t assuming. It’s facts. You guys are awful, by the way. It’s exhausting, watching you two trying to dodge your feelings. Why can’t you just, I don’t know, get everything sorted out & be happy together? If someone deserves that, it’s you.” yes, Mackie could be sarcastic but when push came to shove, he could be serious, too. And that last part, he meant by heart. Was it true? Did Seb like you? More than a friend? Maybe you should just tell him. Life was too short to be filled with what if’s. It was now or never, right?

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it could never be

Wrapping up for today, the three of you decided to grab some take-out & eat it back inside your hotel. After quickly showering & dressing more comfortably, you made your way over to Seb’s room. Mackie was already there, he texted you at least ten times to hurry up because they were starving to death. Dramatic diva. Knocking softly, a smile spread across your face when Seb opened the door. Stepping aside to let you in, you greeted Mackie briefly. He was already eating so why the hell was he rushing you earlier? He could be such a child. Seb handed you your food & motioned for you to take a seat on the bed. Take-out in a hotel bed? It should be illegal. Usually, you were not one for eating in bed but whenever you where staying at a hotel, it became some sort of a routine for you. Same for the guys. For a while, the three of you just talked & ate your food. Conversation always flowed easily with them. You knew all of their secrets & they knew all of yours. Well, except for Seb having no clue about your silly crush on him. When he & Mackie discussed a topic you did not know too much about to actually engage in their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Seb. If it were not enough for him to be so gorgeous, of course he had the best personality to match that. God really took his time with him. And the weirdest thing of it all was that Seb never let that thought get the best of him. He was aware of people admiring him but that never changed him.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

Mackie got a phone call & said goodbye to you before leaving the room. Which meant that Seb & you were alone. It was nothing special, the two of you spent a lot of time together. This time, though, you wanted to confess to him. Finally, you wanted to tell him how you felt. Could you live with the rejection? Well, if things turned in that direction, you had no choice but to. Seb’s lips moved but no sound came out. You zoned out & simply stared at him. Your thoughts were running wild. The sun had already started setting & the golden light illuminated his features in such a beautiful way. It almost looked like a movie scene. He was the masterpiece others could not keep their eyes from. You were this close to speaking up, taking a deep breath for preparation. This could change your bond with him forever.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

A phone ringing interrupted you. It was not yours. But Seb pulled his phone out of his pocket. The moment he saw the notification, he started smiling so brightly. The smile you had grown to love so much. It brought a grin to your face, too. The things this man could do to you, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

“What?” you asked when he could not stop staring at his phone. Had Mackie sent him a message?

“Nothing, it’s just…” he stopped before saying too much but you were having none of it.

“Aw, come on, Sebby. You can tell me anything.” encouraging him, your hand found its way on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Seb seemed almost shy right now. And this was weird because he usually was everything but shy when he talked to you.

“There’s this girl & she’s just…amazing.” your face fell the moment he started talking. No. “I asked her for dinner but when she hadn’t replied after hours, I started losing hope. She just messaged me back.” his smile was sheepish & you hated that you had to admit that he looked happy right now. Genuinely happy. But you were not the reason of his happiness. Another girl was.

“And? What did she say?” deep down, you knew the answer & you actually did not want him to say it out loud. But you were best friends, after all, it was kind of your duty.

“I got myself a date. I’m going on a date with her, (Y/N)!” he beamed & pulled you into a big hug. One, that made the butterflies act out. Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s great, Sebby. I’m happy for you! You deserve it.” your excitement for him was fake but the sincerity behind your last words were not. If one person on this planet deserved endless love & happiness, it was him. Mackie was wrong. Seb had never liked you. Not in that way, at least. And his date saved you from embarrassing yourself & ruining your friendship. That did not change the fact that you felt like crying right now. You could not shed tears in front of him, could not show how much it actually affected you. No. You had to fake a smile. And that shit hurt like a bitch.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it will never be

“Something’s wrong with you.” Mackie stated at breakfast. No shit, Sherlock.

“What makes you think that?” feigning innocence, you rolled your eyes when you saw the look he was giving you.

“Clearly, you’re upset. Did something happen after I left you with Seb yesterday?” he hit the nail on the head with his assumption.

“Yeah.” was all you answered. His eyebrows raised, he waited for you to continue. But when he noticed that you were not planning on engaging in any more conversation with him, he pressed further.

“Did you tell him? Did he mess up?” if Seb messed up, he would kill him. There was no other person who was better for him than you. The two of you deserved each other. And everyone seemed to realize that but you.

“I wanted to tell him.” admitting quietly.

“But?”

“He got a notification.” your short answers made Mackie freak out. He grew frustrated with you when you dragged out this entire conversation.

“(Y/N), come on.” he urged.

“Sebby has a date.”

“With you? But that’s great.” his smile was small but present. Did you finally realize that you were feeling so much more for each other?

“With another girl.” then you looked up at his face, your eyes glossy. Clearly, you were trying to keep it together but he could tell that you had a hard time doing so. Yes, Mackie would kill Seb. He could have sworn that Seb only had eyes for you. The stolen glances, the efforts to make time to spend more with you. What the fuck was going on? When he saw your first tear falling, he wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug. You were broken, all because of one man. But the thing was that he was not just any man. He was Seb. Your best friend. Your everything. But he would never be yours. Not in a million years. Because he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not like you did not have options. Hell, you declined so many people over the time. All because of him. And you were afraid that this would not change anytime soon. Because you did not think you would ever get over him. Your heart was ripped into a million pieces & the only person who could help you fix it was getting excited over his upcoming date. Whatever you thought could be between you guys, it was nothing but a dream. Something that could never be.

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Published (04/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @buckysleftarm420 (thanks for your support <3)

[midnight-inthe-kitchen]

“Hotel Potter” (Part 3)

Paring: Remus x Reader (Marauders Era)

Warnings: Fluff, James is bad at fixing things, More awkwardness haha, and mentions of eating issues?

Word Count: 1775

A/n: I didn’t proof read this, so enjoy/I’m sorry... (Also, we’re getting close to the part I had in my DrEaM✨)

You watched as Sirius dropped his bag on the floor before immediately breaking into a sprint to fling himself onto the bed. The bed...

You didn’t know exactly why you were expecting there to be two... I mean that would be a bit excessive for a regular house... but not until this very moment did you realize the consequences of your poor decisions.

“Hey, Y/N,” Marlene called out from the hallway after hearing Sirius’ loud running start. “Good luck!” Her laugh echoed throughout the hall.

Lily came from around the corner to let you know you were always welcome in her room if Sirius turned out to be an actual dog. You simply accepted and just smiled while shedding a singular, figurative tear. “Nah, I’ll be fine... Probably ;)”

It didn’t take you very long to choose a side of the room and stick to it. You were just going to leave most of your stuff in your suitcase to avoid any huge messes. This obviously left you with some time to kill so you wandered back into the hallway.

When you got there, however, all you saw was Remus sitting on the floor in front of the first door James had tried so hard to open. When he saw you step into the hallway, he stood up.

“Where’s James?” you asked confused since they were supposed to be ‘bunking’ together.

Remus shifted his weight, “Oh um, he went to get a hammer, I think.” He shoved his hands in his pockets in hopes of looking less awkward.

“Oh,” you laugh. “Wh- why on Earth does James need a hammer?” You laugh at he thought of James actually fixing anything successfully.

He turned and jabbed his finger behind him to the door. “It, uh... locked us out.” He laughed under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You laughed as well. “...Did you try Alohamora?” you offered to your ‘genius’ friend.

He straightened up a little, almost offended. “We did, actually,” he smiled, “...Except James kept saying ‘Hola-ha-mora’, so it shouldn’t have worked the first three times anyways.”

You, having the heart of a Hufflepuff but intuition of a Ravenclaw, made your way over to him to see the doorknob yourself. Remus shuffled out of the way after first being stunned by your unexpected approach.

“So what’s actually wrong with it, then?” you question, getting on one knee to peer though the keyhole.

Remus awkwardly leaned over your head to look down on the situation but quickly realized how weird it looked from everyone else’s perspective and simply took a step back. “Um... You know I was actually thinking there might be internal rusting somewhere?”

You tutted your tongue on the top of your mouth, still very concentrated. “I mean sure, but that seems very unlikely due to the appearance of the rest of the house. You would think if someone could take the time to polish the toilet-paper holders, the inside of the room locks should be in perfect condition...” Remus nodded in agreement. “... And James doesn’t have the key?” you asked, confused by the concept of poor safety measures.

Remus just shrugged, “He said the house is so old that with unlocking charms, you know, because they are so common in wizarding communities, his parents figured ‘what would be the point’ of keeping any of the keys I suppose? I don’t know... Anyways, I told him that was dumb and then he went to go get a hammer.”

You stood up, having to steady yourself first from the fast rush of blood to your head. “What does he exspect to do?” you wonder out loud, “It’s not like he can just smash the handle off— though that would solve the problem,” you mutter that last part. “...But come on... I mean Mr and Mrs Potter would kill him and let Sirius bury his bones...”

“What?”

“...Nothing,” you continued. “But by the looks of it, all the handles look like an original artist’s craftsmanship which means not only are they more valuable and rare as a completed set, but they’re also way more expensive.”

Remus marveled silently at your quirky fountain of knowledge. For such a quiet and peaceful-minded soul, he often forgot that in the moments you weren’t tarnished by the boisterous personality of everyone else, you were more than bright enough to light up his world for a moment.

Just then, you and Remus turned to where you could both hear quickened footsteps making they’re way up the staircase. “Not to fear, Moony!... You’ll be reunited with your precious books in no ti-” James stopped mid-sentence before he nearly ran into the two of you.

“Back from your quest, oh key-less one?” You watch as James furrowed his brow before glancing at Remus then back to you.

”Ah, yes, I almost—”

“Is that a screwdriver?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing right in his face. James lifted up the “hammer” he got from heaven knows where with pride.

“No. It’s a hammer, Y/n, jeeze, I would have though you’d know, coming from a nice muggle community.... Now will you please move out of the way so I can fix this thing?” He readjusted his glasses sassily.

By this point in the conversation, Remus and you were nearly having a seizure trying not to burst out in laughter at your friend who really was trying his hardest. You eventually caved and shrunk up against the wall in a ball. “You ca- You can’t fix a door know with-”

“James,” Remus chuckled as he tried to pry the screwdriver from his hands. “That’s not going to-”

You both burst into another fit of laughter as James broke free and started whacking the lock with the butt-end of the device.

When the knob finally came loose, the three of you let out a little cheer. It was you, of course, who realized that the door needed to be lifted up a little while opening or closing becuse the real probably was with the hinges, not the lock.

About fifteen minutes later, when everyone had finally “set up camp”... James gave everyone a grand tour of the house. Your favorite bits were probably the drawing room because of the gorgeous window view and the library/study for obvious reasons. The part that you couldn’t quite get over, though, was the fact that there was a fireplace in practically every room. YAAAS WARMTH✨

When dinner finally hit though, you were definitely hungry. (You weren’t exactly starving because, well, eating had always seemed like a chore to you... Just thanks to the many perks of living in a 26% functioning body... But of course, you would push it aside unless you were on mental overload and therefore stress-ate an entire box of Cheerios plus a whole bag of goldfish and chocolate all night during that one OWLS season). But right now, in the midst of friends and good food, you were excited to spend the first evening of the weekend with them :)

The table (the smaller one meant for family not business guests in the main dining hall, was seated with James and Mary on both ends. Lily had somehow slithered her way to James’ left putting her, Marlene, and Sirius between the two. Peter sat on the left of James, smushing you between Remus on your left and Mary on your right.

You watched as the conversation switched from quidditch fowls, to hot quidditch team players, to James, Sirius, Mary and Marlene competing on who had gone out with the hottest Gryffindor member.

You obviously stayed out of this one as the three of you, Remus, and Peter all watched... Lily would throw in some deviously timed mention about her short flings with Slytherin team boys just to throw James off his lead.

“Sorry about not answering earlier...” Remus stated out of nowhere.

“What?” you muffled, trying not to choke on the soup you were currently obsessing over.

Remus was hoping he would t have to repeat himself, but just when he was about to, your brain registered his words.

“Oh! Oh, no no, that’s totally fine. I actually had just told Sirius that I didn’t care where I was- Wha- I’m sorry,” you laugh nervously, stuttering on every new sentence. WhY wAs iT sO HaRd To TaLk RiGhT NoW? “I just didn’t want to put you in that position, you know having to choose who to sleep with- I MEAN not sleep-sleep with just you know...” You could practically feel your face cooking.

“...Sirius(?).” You both finish as you gesture to the boy across the table from you, trying to stick his spoon to his nose using only his breath.

You both sat there, distracted and watching him until he actually succeeded. “Mary, look!” Right as he turned to show her however, it slid off and splashed soup up in his face.

You propped your head off your hand after a long moment of thought.... “Bet I could do it longer...” you start, turning back to Remus.

A confused smile stretched across his face. “...What?” he questioned again as if he hadn’t hear you properly the first time.

Without answering, you picked up the second spoon placed at your table spot (for whatever reason) and you watched as your reflection became more and more cloudy.

“Are you—”

You turned calmly to meet his face with a spoon now hanging from atop your nose.

After a good couple seconds of Remus staring at you, it finally clicked in his head what you were doing. A rare grin stretched up his face as he grabbed his own spoon and tried it himself.

It took a couple of tries for the spoon to really stick, but as soon as it did, Sirius saw from across the room and automatically turned it into a table-wide competition.

By the time pudding came around, you were holding the record of four minutes and twelve seconds versus Peter somehow who was thirteen seconds shy.

When the competition had ended though, Lily finally asked what the heck the plan was for the rest of the weekend...

In the morning, James said, everyone could go up to an abandoned village area where a muggle summer camp once stood and they could spend the night there. He promised the plumbing still worked for whatever reason, so it could be totally doable.

Every fiber of your being was telling you that was a dumb idea, especially a bunch of teenagers in the woods alone, but whatever right? Majority votes are always won by the delinquents.

[moody-bloosh]

this is for @just-1margaret​ who won my giveaway last may! im so sorry it took me this long to get done but here is your la squadra wholesomeness on a day off at the beach ; ) 

The past few months have certainly been difficult to say the least. Being generally unappreciated at your insanely dangerous job, doing said difficult work with little pay, regardless, you supposed that it was good that the Consigliere finally realized that it might not be a good idea to alienate the branch of the Famiglia that literally kills people for money. 

So it came to pass that on a certain fateful day, Risotto has you all gather together in the hideout. There’s a long tense silence as you all gather together. As always, Sorbet and Gelato are tangled on the couch together. Illuso pokes out of the mirror, a bored look in his eyes that quickly turns smug as soon as he catches you looking at him. Prosciutto looks disaffected as he lounges on the couch, smoking a cigar. Pesci tries to follow after his mentor’s calm demeanor but fails miserably, a sight to see considering he was sitting between Prosciutto and Formaggio who was lounging on the couch with an easy smile on his lips. Ghiaccio and Melone sit together, tapping on their computers, probably catching up on some last minute work, they whisper to each other about what they think is going on. 

You sit beside them, chewing some gum, trying to look calm though your heart hammers in your chest. Why did Risotto call you all here, right now? Was there something wrong? 

After a long moment, Risotto decides that you’ve all settled down and he brings out a manila folder. That simple action is enough to shatter the easy atmosphere. 

“The Consigliere has sent something,” Risotto says grimly. 

Everyone sits still with bated breath as Risotto opens the folder. He reads the contents of the letter inside of it for a long moment and then he pulls out what looks like a fan of tickets. 

“They wish for us to rest,” he says with a strangely calm voice. 

There’s another long moment of silence in the group that’s broken by Pesci. 

“Do they mean for us to rest permanently or...?” 

And then, it’s chaos. 

“Are they serious?!” 

“Who do they think we are?” 

“What beach are we talking about?”

The question that spurs the rest of your squad into silence comes from Formaggio. There’s a lazy grin on his face as he looks over the indignant and shocked faces of the other members. There’s dead silence as your group turns to look at Risotto, who plops the sheaf of tickets to the group.

“Well…” Gelato hums, “about damn time I say.”

“What about the money?” Sorbet asks, “they gonna start paying us properly or are we still gonna get the scraps?”

For the first time in a long while, Risotto smiles, his dimples evident as he sets down the folder.

“How sure are we this isn’t a trap?” Ghiaccio hisses out, “they think they can just buy us out like this?”

“The Consigliere is a good man,” Prosciutto comments, his only word on the matter, “the only man with sense by the boss’s side, at least.”

“As promised then,” Risotto says, “we go on this trip, consider it … team building.”

That is your capo’s last words on the matter and thus, it allows your teammates to pass through the day with excited chattering, packing for the beach trip. As you settle down in your room to pack for the beach trip. You wonder if maybe this is a sign that things are starting to look up for your team.

All expenses have been shouldered by the Consigliere, who after his assignment from the boss has taken it upon himself to mend fences with your squad. It’s a rather surprising move on his part considering how the boss had openly neglected your squad. There’s still the undercurrent of distrust among some of the other members who still believe this trip to be a trap, at least until the Consigliere himself appears, greeting your group with a smile on his face.

The Consigliere is an old man, his hair in various shades of graying, his face lined with age. Beside him, a boy with pink hair and a strange sweater. He shakes your capo’s hands and after a little exchange of words, drives you up to the villa where your team will be staying at. He chatters pleasantly about his hopes for better relations with your gang, words that would ordinarily ring hollow for you but … for some reason bring you something akin to hope. It’s a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, but you’re glad for it.

On your group’s first outing to the beach, Risotto stays put, insisting for the rest of you to have fun. He dong a pair of black swimming trunks and a loose black polo that he keeps unbuttoned. he stays in the shade, reading some books and keeping his peculiar eyes hidden with a pair of shades. He’s the talk of the beach, you poke around, staying back with him for a while as you watch the other members of your gang play around the beach.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you, “I’m not one to play in the water. You can have fun.”

He gives you a carefree smile as he nudges you along. Hesitantly, you do as he asks. Occassionally, Prosciutto will swap out with him so he can get himself some ice cream. He’s always stopped by women, asking for pictures of which he will politely decline. It’s not good for a hitman to have pictures taken after all. Sometimes, you do manage to catch him, comforting a lost child, directing them to the proper services.

Of all of you, Pesci has the most fun, he sits by the docks happily fishing with Beach Boy. You stop by for a minute, playing with the bait, watching him fish. He seems to have amassed a little ocean in his pail, along with some other fish in the cooler.

“You plan on fishing up the whole ocean, Pesci?” You tease good-naturedly.

“I’ll put them back,” he replies cheerfully, a boyish grin on his face as he continues fishing. “I just wanted to catch a few bigger ones, f-for dinner tonight, big bro said if I caught nice ones, he’d cut them up for dinner.”

You blink in surprise, “Prosciutto’s cooking dinner?”

“Yeah!”

You purse your lips as you watch the glittering waves, “he must be … in a really good mood, then.”

After you hang out with Pesci for a little while, you walk by the shore, noticing Ghiaccio who’s been building a sand castle. He grumbles as he builds and it’s only then that you notice a droopy part to the surprisingly well built sand sculpture. He notices you approach and as if to preemptively shut down any ideas you may have about knocking down his castle he growls at you.

“If you plan on ruining this castle any more than Illuso has, I swear to God, witnesses be damned, I’m going to kill you!”

You laugh at that, unable to help yourself. It was just … a little cute to see him, carefully poring over every little detail of his sand castle, his curls sticking everywhere.

“Chill,” you say, a little smirk on your face as the irony of your little joke is not lost on you, “I just wanted to ask if you need help.”

Taking a seat beside him and a safe distance away from his sand castle you are able to marvel at his work. You suppose that it would have been prettier had it not been destroyed on one side. But even so, it was gorgeous, it shocks you a little bit to see just how detailed Ghiaccio had managed to be. You couldn’t believe it was made of sand.

“You’re … weirdly good at stuff like this,” you praise.

Ghiaccio grumbles but you do see a light blush dusting his face, as always, he was terrible at receiving compliments. He never knew what to do when he got them. Even his ears started to turn a little bit red.

“I-if you want to help, just don’t get in my way,” he grumbles. “I don’t want you ruining anything.”

You pout as you continue to watch him build and then you stand up, “I’m kinda thirsty, want me to get you anything?”

Ghiaccio mulls it over for a moment, pausing as he rebuilds a turret, “soda sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll get you one, anything else?” You pat the sand off yourself as you address him.

“No… Thanks, _____.”

You smile a little as you walk up to the nearby beachside store selling some cool treats. Yeah, today seemed like a really good day, you thought to yourself as you walked. On your way, you catch a glimpse of Formaggio and Melone trying to pick up some tourists. you cringe internally as you hear their attempts at flirting.

“Now, I’m not a photographer, sweetheart.” Formaggio croons, his voice smooth as butter and as sweet as honey. “But I can picture me and you together.”

“What’s your zodiac sign then?” Melone asks excitedly, getting too close in a tourist’s personal space, “come now, no need to be shy. I need to know! You have excellent hips, perfect for a mother to – hey! Why are you running?!”

Something akin to secondhand embarrassment blooms in the pit of your belly and you make your way to the store, trying to look as though you have no idea who Formaggio and Melone are. Thankfully, your gambit seems to work as you manage to get into the shop with not much difficulty and purchase the cold drinks. Though as you walk back to Ghiaccio, you wonder where Illuso might be. You hadn’t seen him all day after all. 

Illuso spends the day in his mirror world, happily relaxing with no large crowds to be bothered about and no annoying teammates to pester him. It’s heaven, at least for him. And it’s the only place where Ghiaccio couldn’t try to kill him after he ruined his sandcastle. Illuso is smug as he relaxes. It was the perfect day to relax. 

You have dinner on the beach as well, Prosciutto taking it upon himself to gut and grill the fish Pesci has caught. You find yourself enraptured as he prepares the food. Though upon seeing you gape at him, he quickly tasks you with preparing the food instead. You sit beside him, chopping up some veggies that he told you he was going to grill while Risotto returns after some time with Ghiaccio in tow, having managed to gather some firewood for a bonfire. 

With your coaxing, and Risotto’s assurance that no blood would be shed, Illuso is quickly coaxed out of the mirror - finally able to join your group again for a pleasant dinner. 

“You didn’t have to hide all day Lulu,” you teased, “I’d protect you.” 

Illuso scoffed at that, flicking your forehead and grabbing some grilled fish. You smile warmly as you settle by your teammates. Sorbet and Gelato finally make their way back to your group - sure their hair is a little mussed up and you definitely notice some hickeys but you play dumb. With good food, refreshing drinks, and funny stories to exchange by the warm bonfire, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time since you’ve joined Passione. 

Contentment. Completion... 

Such cherishjed moments and days like these, you hoped they would continue. 

[amandaoftherosemire]

Harry

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Sam Wilson X Reader

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8,721

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, (very) mild embarrassment, fluff.

Summary: When Sam Wilson moves in next door, you decide he’s too pretty and too dangerous and determine to mostly avoid him. Sam, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to get to know his pretty neighbor.

A/N: My dear mutual @fashionworld12 (I hope you like it, sweets!!) suggested I write a Sam Wilson fic. I didn’t realize until she did so that I didn’t have a clear voice for Sam in my head, so it took some doing until I was close to satisfied with anything I wrote for him. I loved the challenge and adore her for offering it. And all that is my excuse for why this feels kind of different from my usual fare. I’m diggin’ it, so I hope y’all do, too. 😊

Harry; or Are You Sure That’s A Cat? 

Sam Wilson was laying on his couch with a bag of ice on his ribs, wishing he had a roommate to beg for ibuprofen or Tylenol or whatever. He’d spent the morning tangling with a woman he would swear was enhanced because she had a kick like a mule, as his aching and bruised ribs could attest. The only thing taking the sting out of every breath was the knowledge that she was in custody and wouldn't be hurting anyone else.

He started to get up, thinking of dinner, but as soon as his abdominal muscles flexed even the little bit required to get him off the couch a breathtaking ache exploded through his chest. As he sucked in a breath through his nose to stop from screaming aloud, he fell back onto the couch, deciding he didn't need dinner just yet. More ice and rest, and he'd try again in a little while.

Those crying abs were the reason he didn't move away from the open window, as he normally would, when he heard your cheery greeting come wafting out of your window into his. He loved to listen to you, adored the sound of your voice, but he didn't like to eavesdrop. He generally tried to respect your privacy since he didn't know if you knew you could be heard.

Unless he was sitting with his head on this side of the couch, he couldn't hear what you were saying, could only hear the murmur of your voice. He thought it a lovely sound, soothing in a way he couldn't explain. There was something peaceful about living just on the other side of a not too terribly thick wall from someone so delightfully, wonderfully normal that helped him with the hard parts of going back to a life of violence. Something about the sound of you going about your life reminded him of the reason he'd done so. He'd wanted to make sure people like you got to live your normal, peaceful lives.

Needing a little of that normal had been the impetus for getting an apartment of his own, away from the compound. He'd begun to feel like he lived at work, never got to escape from the omnipresent knowledge of a world full of problems that he couldn't solve because he was only one man. Being able to go home at the end of the day made it easier to bear the things he couldn't fix, the limitations of being one person in a world full of people, and problems.

When Sam had first moved in, he'd assumed, based on the cadence and rhythm of your speech, that you were speaking to a roommate or significant other who was responding too quietly for him to hear. When he had finally been close enough to the window to hear you clearly, he had also heard the chirping, chirruping, purr-meowing that was the hallmark of your cat, Harry.

"Hey Harry!" You called out as you walked through your front door into the kitchen. You dropped your keys in a bowl on the counter, the sound a familiar jangling against ceramic, then set your bags on the floor in a thump before turning to lock the door behind you. "You would not fucking believe the bullshit I had to put up with today."

Sam smiled. He could hear the amused exasperation in your voice and thoroughly enjoyed it. Something about you was incredibly appealing, made him want to get closer. He felt a little guilty staying where he was, but he couldn't bear to move yet, both the ache in his chest and the humor in your voice keeping him still.

Harry chirped and meowed, like she was encouraging you to continue. Sam had wondered on more than one occasion if you and Harry were having actual conversations. He'd seen weirder things, but it was also very likely that Harry was just a talkative cat and you were imaginative enough to play like you could understand her ‘speech.’

Your voice was getting harder to hear, like you were moving away from the window and your shared wall with Sam, but he could still make out the words. "Well, first I had to man the phones, which isn't even my job, but fine, whatever, I'm a team player and blah blah blah, right?"

Sam smiled at the acerbic note to your voice. Whenever he'd met you in the hall, you'd been sweet and polite, but there was something about the twinkle in your eye that made him think you were saltier than you appeared. Sam was only more intrigued; he considered himself a connoisseur of salty sweet.

He couldn't hear Harry, but he knew from experience that the cat responded whenever you paused, which was weird in and of itself. The cat didn't just respond, however; she replied. Sam couldn't explain it, but the sound of the meows and purrs and chirps seemed like communication, like language. You acted like you understood it and replied to questions Sam could almost hear.

Sam wasn't certain Harry was really a cat, unsure if there was a rational explanation for your conversations. He'd hadn’t asked since he’d never managed anything resembling a conversation with you beyond his initial introduction. The two of you rarely ran into each other and Sam hadn't found an excuse yet to knock on your door.

"But then this guy calls in and I can't do anything for him because he's got the wrong department." The volume of your voice was varying wildly, and he assumed you were moving around your apartment. "No biggie; I tell him I'm going to transfer him, but he blows a frickin’ gasket."

Once he thought you were far enough away, he tried again to get off the couch and move away from the window. Another shriek of pain burst across his chest and stomach. As your voice came toward him once more, he stifled the groan of agony and settled back against the couch in defeat. "He gets all 'I won't let you pawn me off on someone else because you don't want to do your job' asshole bullshit."

A soft thump, like you'd flopped onto a couch or into a chair, and a chirruping meow coming loud and clear from your window to his led Sam to conclude you were sitting on the other side of the wall. His couch was against that same wall, and the idea that yours might sit on the other side made him feel like you were only a breath away.

Your tone wry, you continued your story, but now Sam felt like you were talking directly to him. He found himself caught in the irresistible cadence of your voice. "I let him rant a little, then start trying to explain to him that it's not that I don't want to help him, it's because I can't," your voice started to speed in slight agitation and Sam could tell that the interaction bothered you, "but I can get him to the people who can help him but he keeps interrupting me, basically accusing me of being a lazy prick who would rather argue with someone than do my job." Sam smiled at the carefully restrained irritation in your voice. "I'm holding on to my temper when he does something that takes this from regular daily bullshit to unique, notable bullshit. He started quacking."

Fortunately, Harry's purring yowl of what sounded like insult and dismay muffled Sam's snort of laughter. He couldn't decide what was weirder, your story or your cat. When you scoffed out a laugh of horrified disbelief, and went on in a nasal, mocking tone, acting out your conversation, Sam had to lift a hand to cover his mouth, stifling the laughter trying to burst out of him, as well as the moans of pain from his aching abdominals.

"'All you do is quack at me. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Your voice dropped, went stern, "'Sir.'" Mocking, nasal. "'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.' 'Sir.' 'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Then, in a tone that would have made Sam's mama proud, "'Sir. I'm going to have to ask you to please stop quacking at me.'"

Harry was silent; it seemed in shock. Sam wrapped an arm around his middle, holding onto the shout of laughter-pain, trying desperately to not give away that he was listening when you went on in a tone of awed wonder.

"I said that. I HAD to say that to a full-grown adult. What in the actual fuck?"

Sam was curled into a ball, his abs and chest screaming as he strained to keep the laughter bottled up. He had one hand clamped over his mouth and nose, turning his face into the pillow he'd been resting on, hoping that the breaths and snorts that were escaping were too soft for you to hear.

You continued to speak as though you had no idea anyone but your cat was listening. Reassured, Sam worked on calming himself as you went on with your story.

"It worked, though. He stopped long enough for me to get tough and finally finish my explanation that I don't have the authority or the ability to help him, so I am going to transfer him." You laughed a little at this, as though the memory was still unbelievable to you. Sam understood this. Quacking, for fuck's sake.

Harry meowed, and Sam would swear it was a question.

You seemed to think so, too, as you answered as though it was. Sam had no idea what was going on in the apartment next door, but since it seemed harmless, he didn’t see any reason to worry about it, though the seeming mystery fascinated him. The endorphins from the laughing fit had numbed his pain, at least enough to get him up off the couch with only an internal scream of pain.

"Yeah," you were saying, "but my boss was standing right there and she's looking at me like I’m crazy because I asked someone to stop quacking and in her world there's no way that someone could be literally quacking, so what the hell have I done, right?"

Though he was now standing, and his stomach was screaming for food instead of in agony, he needed to hear the end of the story more than he needed his principles. He stayed put.

Harry gave another of her questioning meows. Sam had considered the possibility that you had trained her to do this, but in some way he couldn't explain, it seemed more organic than trained behavior.

"All calls in are recorded. I told her what happened, and the recording backed me up, so it ain't no thing." You started snickering a little now, obviously enjoying the memory. Sam thought your laugh was adorable. "She pulled the recording anyway, so we could listen together. I went into her office right before I left. She laughed like a loon when I asked him to stop quacking at me."

A long, agreeable purr that chirped up at the end. Sam decided to stop thinking about it, because trying to figure out your weird cat was making him crazy.

"Yeah," you replied to Harry's purr, "she's a good egg. Which is why the bullshit didn't get me down." You were laughing, wryly, and Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling softly. “He's one guy who I'm never going to have to talk to again. Not so important in the scheme of things. And now I've got a funny story.”

Sam sighed a little, mildly astonished. Your perspective helped him in ways he hadn’t known he needed. He didn't know how you'd done it, but you'd told a story to your cat that ended up making him feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. You, with your quacking moron, and your wry acceptance of him as an outlier in an otherwise good world, helped him deal with some of the people with whom he'd come in contact these past few years.

Outliers in an otherwise good world.

"Yes," you laughed at Harry's demanding yowl, "now that story time is over, it is dinner time. So bossy."

Even Sam had understood what that one meant.

The slam of your door woke Sam from the nap he'd been taking on his couch. He'd fallen asleep before the sun had gone down and waking into complete dark left him utterly disoriented.

"Well, Harry," you said, sounding somewhere between severely irritated and supremely pissed, "either that guy was engaged in a social experiment to be the most off-putting date of all time or he’s a serial killer."

Purr-row-ow?

Sam looked around, trying to figure out what time it was, what city he was in, his last name. There was a clomping, scrabbling sound fairly close and he could tell you were on the other side of the wall again. When you sighed in relief, he figured out the sound he’d heard was you kicking off your shoes.

"If it turns out to be serial killer and he found out where I live, do me a favor and go get the hottie next door, okay?"

Sam's head snapped up, a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He liked being the hottie next door, but he thought he’d like the sound of his name on your lips more. If he could manage to run into you, he hoped to make that happen. He was determined to get to know you better, and not by being a creep and eavesdropping on you. He lifted a hand and rubbed it over his face, stifling a groan as he did so.

Mrrrrrow?

“He answered every question with one or two words,” you replied to Harry’s chirped question, “asked no questions of his own, and stared right at me the entire time.” Sam rolled his eyes as he rolled to his back, lost in the rhythm of your voice. He found himself vaguely irritated with your date for not treating you right. You deserved better.

“Thank the good lord I only agreed to drinks. I don’t think I could have made it all the way through dinner.” You yawned, and Sam could swear he heard the rustle of fabric. The thought that you might be undressing just a few feet away made him suddenly change his mind; he wasn’t so upset that your date had sucked. He could only be grateful that he still had a chance to show you better.

Another chirping meow of encouragement from Harry and you were going on with your story. Sam told himself to get up, to give you your privacy. He sat up as you said, considering, “He didn’t seem like a weirdo online. Which is why I’m thinking social experiment. Or serial killer.”

Harry made the sound that Sam had started to think of as her laugh. It was a growly rawrrawrrawr that never failed to make you chuckle in response, the sound of which always drew Sam's attention. Sam smiled, forgetting to move out of earshot as the sound of your laughter hit his ear and lit him up.

“I knew it was on its way south as soon as I met him,” you said wryly, then went on in a confessional tone that had Sam’s conscience prodding him to his feet. “I hate to judge on appearance,” you were saying, though, and Sam couldn’t help but stop in his tracks, needing to know how you might judge on appearance, “but the guy’s shirt was multi-colored diagonal stripes and so was his tie, but they didn’t match. At. All.” Sam grinned and relaxed. “Like, neither in color nor in style. Who puts that on, looks in the mirror, and thinks, ‘This is normal; I look normal right now.’?”

Sam covered his mouth to stifle the laughter as Harry made a disapproving sound. The sheer bafflement in your tone was more hilarious to him than anything else. He was irritated with himself for giving into temptation and eavesdropping on you again, but the more time he spent listening to you, the more he wanted to, the more he liked you. He wanted to get to know you for real, let you get to know him. He wanted to find out if you'd like him, too.

You answered Harry's disapproval in a defensive tone, which had Sam smiling again. "No. I’m not wrong here." You sighed again, and the wry tone took over your voice again. You seemed like you were coming down from the aggravation of the evening into an exasperated kind of resignation. "I should have walked out then, but I’m like, clothes don’t matter, clothes can be changed, don’t be shallow." You gave a scoffing kind of laugh. "Fucking hours of my life I’m never gonna get back."

Prrrrrrrr-ree-ee?

You sighed again, this time wistful, and your answer made Sam wonder what you heard in Harry's questioning sound. "Nah, Harry, I don’t really care about the outside." The touch of sadness that took over your voice made Sam want to hug you, but what you said made him want to kiss you. "Inside is what matters and I just want somebody decent, with a good sense of humor," as you spoke, the sadness faded as humor took over, "who’s loyal. And generous. And kind." Sam didn't understand why you sounded like you thought you asked too much. "Hottie would just be a bonus," you finished with a laugh.

When Harry made a sound that Sam could only interpret as a demand, he frowned when you replied, "And of course they have to like cats."

The more he listened to the two of you, the more he wondered if Harry was a cat.

A few days later, Bucky was hanging out on Sam's couch when a small cat with tiny legs came purring around the window frame. She was on the long side of short-haired, calico from her nose to her tail, but her throat, chest, and belly were white. A short snout and big eyes made her look sweet and mixed with the short legs, she was as cute as could be. She chirped and purred as she sashayed into the apartment through the open window, and Bucky's eyes widened at the adorable cat, even as Sam moved forward with a smile, hoping he was about to meet Harry.

"What the fuck is that?" Bucky shouted in astonishment, scooting over to move toward the window. The cat yowled, the tone hostile as both men stopped in their tracks. With a careful couple of hops, she descended from the window to the couch to the floor and trotted forward on her little legs to curve purring around Sam's ankles.

"The cat?" Sam scoffed out a laugh, surprised at the enthusiastic greeting. He bent down to look at the tag on her collar, unsurprised to see the name there, but curious as to why she was visiting now, when she never had before.

"It's fucking adorable." Bucky's face had lit up, and Sam knew he'd be giving the other man a raft of shit for being so charmed by a kitty cat. Then the terrifying soldier leaned forward, his hand out to the little cat with a hopeful smile, and Sam wasn't sure he had it in him to mock the purest expression he'd ever seen on Bucky's face. "The hell is going on with its legs?" The concern in his voice was so palpable, Sam's lips twitched and the urge to tease almost overwhelmed him.

"I don’t know," Sam replied, his voice rich with that humor, as he gently scratched the cat under her short chin. She closed those big green eyes and purred like a motorboat. "It says Harry on the tag, so she belongs to the neighbor. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Sam spoke in a low, warm tone, not entirely certain he wasn't meeting someone who understood him. Figuring he might as well err on the side of caution, he was going to treat Harry with respect. In response, Harry popped up into an arch under Sam's hand as she chirped cheerfully, Mraaah-aa-aa-aah!

Bucky gasped and Sam knew that he would absolutely be bringing that up again. It didn't matter how happy Bucky sounded when he cried, "She just got cuter!" Sam wasn't a damn saint. Bucky was a surly metal-armed soldier-assassin who had just reacted to a cat the same way a six-year-old would have. This was happening.

Harry had apparently forgiven Bucky's earlier rude manners as, chirping the whole way, she trotted over to him to let him pet her. With a happily surprised laugh, he stroked her from her head to the tip of her tail as she arched into his hand with happy growling chirps and chitters. When she spun to go back under his hand with flirty chirps and big soulful eyes, Bucky laughed a little. "Are you sure this is a cat?" he asked, his voice giving away that he was only half-kidding.

“Not really." Sam was watching the little cat with narrowed eyes. She was adorable, and weird, and both exactly like a cat and yet nothing like a cat, very much like what he imagined an intelligent cat would be. Just because she couldn't talk didn't mean she couldn't communicate, but Sam wasn't sure he wasn't simply anthropomorphizing because she was a weirdly vocal cat.

His head snapped up when he heard your voice calling Harry's name. Bucky pushed himself over to the window at the same moment to shove it all the way open and lean out.

"Hey! Sam's neighbor!" he shouted, making Sam hiss in irritation behind him.

You pushed your own window all the way open to lean out and look at the shockingly pretty man waving at you from your hot neighbor's window. "Hi, I’m Sam’s friend, Bucky," the gorgeous brunet said with a smile. You weren’t that surprised to find that not only was your neighbor smoking hot, so too were his friends. "What’s up with your cat?"

You smiled slowly, warmly. He was too pretty to not smile at. "Hi Bucky. I’m y/n. Nice to meet you." You opted to assume he meant her legs. You could explain that. The rest of Harry's oddness you had no explanation for. "She’s a munchkin cat. It’s a mutation that makes her legs short."

Bucky's face fell at the word mutation, too aware of the double edge mutation often possessed. "Does it hurt her?"

You decided you liked Bucky when you saw how concerned he was about a cat he'd just met. You knew others who would never have thought to even ask the question. You sat on the edge of the window and gave Bucky your real smile. Behind Bucky, Sam leaned out at the same moment, going into an immediate mental meltdown at how pretty you were when you really smiled. "She’s okay," you replied, "but some munchkin cats have issues with their joints and spines." You gave Bucky a sad half-smile. "It’s not a mutation that comes without risks. Were you thinking about getting one?"

Bucky shook his head, his face sad as he looked at the cat that had hopped up onto the windowsill next to him to purr and chirp. With gentle fingers, he scratched the top of her little head. "Not anymore," he said softly. With a sad smile back at you, he shrugged a little sheepishly. "Cute doesn’t seem a good enough reason to cause pain."

Your face spread in a bright, friendly smile that included Sam when you glanced at him where he was smiling at you from behind Bucky. "I agree," you replied, grinning at Harry's purring sashay under Bucky's long fingers. "She’s a rescue. The folks that run it are friends." You took one last considering look, though something about him told you Bucky could be trusted, at least with animals. "I can put you in touch if you want."

"Something tells me this cat is unique."

You laughed out loud at the suspicious look he was giving the innocent-looking cat. "Bucky, you have no idea. Harry's an odd creature."

When she chirruped at him, he grinned and crooned, "How'd this little doll get a name like Harry, anyway?"

Your eyes lifted to Sam's, whose were dancing in delight. He was filing everything away, saving it for the perfect moment. He didn't know when the moment would come, but he would be holding this ammunition back until it did. He could hardly wait.

Your eyes danced back at him, enjoying his enjoyment of his friend. You liked the warmth in Sam's eyes as he smiled at you, friendly and appreciative. Something hot passed between you as you grinned at each other over the head of his muscle mountain friend turning to mush over your cat. "She’s a little escape artist," you explained with a wry grin at the tiny cat charming the big, beautiful man, "so she’s named after Houdini."

"Why do you leave your window open if she’ll escape?" Sam asked, the sound of his voice low and warm, like summer honey. You found you loved the sound, wanted him to keep talking.

You shrugged, a little sheepish. You knew Harry was odd; it was your acceptance of her oddness that had led to her living with you. "It’s not escape if you’re allowed to leave. I’m her roommate, not her warden." Harry made her chirp-chirp noise that you interpreted as agreement and you grinned wryly at both men, since they wore matching looks of suspicion. "She stays because she wants to, not because I make her."

Bucky couldn't stop himself; he grinned back at you. For a man who'd spent much of his life in captivity, stripped of his free will, he couldn't help but appreciate your willingness to respect a cat's freedom. Charmed, he laughed a little, "That’s kinda weird, but I like it."

You laughed back, including Sam, who'd laughed as well. "She’s a weird cat. I’m a weird person." With a wink for Sam, you shrugged, "Maybe that’s why she sticks around."

Sam's smile was slow and beautiful and made you feel an insistent tug of attraction. His eyes were dark and warm on your face as he spoke again in that low, smooth voice. "Would you prefer I close my window so she’ll go home?"

You surprised yourself by shaking your head. You were very protective of Harry, but something about these two men told you neither of them would hurt your cat for any reason. And Harry looked like she'd found her new best friend as she closed her eyes and let Bucky scratch the top of her little head, bliss all over her. Based on the look of astonished delight on the pretty brunet's face, Bucky was equally enchanted.

You smiled at Sam, happy that your new neighbor was not only hot, but sweet and polite, too. "Not unless you want her gone." Knowing that you didn't have to worry should Harry get it into her head to go visit was a weight off your mind. You grinned again at Harry and Bucky falling in love. "She’ll come home when she’s done hanging out. Nice to meet you, Bucky." You gave Sam a sparkling smile, the warmth in his dark eyes turning that tug of attraction into a slow burning. "Sam."

Once you'd pulled back inside, you leaned against the wall next to the window with your hand over your heart. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about the way Sam looked at you made you think he was attracted, too. You didn't know if it was a good idea to get involved, even casually, with your neighbor, but the man was gorgeous enough to make you wonder if it'd be worth it.

Because you were still next to the window, you heard Bucky say quietly, "The neighbor is as cute as her cat." You grinned and stifled a surprised laugh, flattered if a bit bemused. "If you didn’t already have your eye there, I’d be all over that."

 "Who said I have my eye there?" You couldn't quite place the tone in Sam's voice, but it sounded a little self-conscious, like he knew, or was at least afraid that you were listening. It made you wonder how much he'd heard from your apartment since you always left the window open enough for Harry to leave if she felt like it.

The cat in question yowled and the sound was so ripe with skepticism you couldn't help but snort a little. The sound was in unison with Bucky's snort of derision, so you were pretty sure you hadn't been heard. However, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing aloud when Bucky scoffed.

"What Harry said."

A couple weeks later, you realized Harry was gone again. You left the window open because it had always had a weird reverse psychology effect on Harry. If she had no escape, she found one. If you left a window open, she didn't bother to leave. Except since she'd met Bucky, she'd disappeared three times to go visit him when he was at Sam's.

You had been planning on giving Bucky the number of your friends with the cat rescue, but you almost felt like you'd be getting in the way of his friendship with Harry. She was unique, and you couldn't be sure she didn't have a jealous streak. You felt like she wouldn't thank you for it, but you didn't know if that was just because you over-anthropomorphized her because of her unusual behavior.

That said, you also weren’t certain if you were just telling yourself that because she wasn't really a cat and you didn't want to deal with it because that brought way too many complications into your life. She ate cat food and went in the litter box. She was a cat. She had to be.

Since you didn't want to deal with that, you thought instead of your hot neighbor, Sam. On one of those visits, while sitting on your couch, you'd listened and discovered that in the silence, you could clearly hear what they were saying, not just the murmur of voices. Sam and Bucky teased and ribbed each other almost constantly, their friendship obviously one of adversarial good humor.

You hadn't heard Bucky today, however. Instead, you'd heard the chirps and chirrups that made up Harry's language and realized Sam was talking to Harry the same way you did. Frankly, you'd started listening so hard because it was lonely in your apartment without your odd little cat chattering at you.

To tell the truth, you'd also listened because you'd been wondering about Sam since he sent you that long, hot smile out of eyes like melted chocolate. How could you not, when he was that pretty, when he looked at you like that, all warm appreciation? How could you not listen when he had that voice? Slow and deep and golden like honey, it made you think of cool sheets on humid summer nights, when the storms rolled in.

"Bucky made me promise to tell you he'd be over tomorrow," Sam was saying in that lovely voice, "and I don't know what's weirder: my friend is falling in love with a cat, or that I'm not sure you're a cat."

You smiled, hearing only amusement in his tone, happy to hear the same sort of benign suspicion with which you regarded Harry. You could hear Harry's laugh and smiled to hear Sam's low chuckle in response.

"But he's a hundred-year-old former brainwashed assassin, so he might be weirder than you."

You relaxed into the couch as your cat scoffed and chirped. You'd worried a little when you'd realized who your neighbor was. Avengers tended to draw trouble, after all. Sam was so quiet, however, and Bucky so soft over your cat, you'd nearly forgotten that side of their lives. At the reminder, you had to stifle your laughter at the thought of Bucky’s enemies hearing him talk to your cat. Now that you’d overheard Sam and Bucky’s rapport, you understood the mischievous smile that you’d seen take over Sam’s face in response to that tender croon.

“Or you might be perfect for each other.” Sam was laughing and you found yourself smiling at the sound. He sounded rusty, like he didn't laugh as much as he should. You were surprised to discover that you wanted to fix that.

“If only you could tell me how to get a chance at a conversation with your pretty roommate," he said next and you were clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the gasp of surprise that tried to escape.

You hadn't really thought about it, but you had, for the most part, avoided Sam since he'd moved in. He was tall and broad and beautiful, and his eyes looked deep and dark enough to drown in. You figured you'd just end up embarrassing yourself if you tried to talk to him, so you'd kept out of his way.

You’d ignored Bucky’s teasing about you when you and Harry had met him. After hearing the way they ragged on each other, you couldn't take it personally. To hear Sam say such things in that honey gold voice was entirely different, however, and made your heart leap in excitement. What if you leaned out of your window and started that conversation?

You hopped off your couch and ran into your bathroom to take a look at yourself. You had the day off, so you hadn't dolled up by any stretch, but you'd also gone to the grocery store, so you weren't a total slob, either. You touched up the little bit of makeup you'd put on that morning and put your hair back into some semblance of order. If the delicious Sam Wilson wanted a conversation, you could make that happen.

Back in your living room, you took two deep, but carefully silent breaths before you pushed your window all the way open and leaned out. “Sam?”

On the other side of the wall, Sam was laying on his couch, a book in his hand as he scratched the purring cat on his chest. At the sound of your voice, he jolted, dropping the book. He scooped Harry up and placed her on the floor before shoving his own window open.

When Sam leaned out to see you, sitting on your wide windowsill, the curve of your lips was as sweet to his eye as your voice to his ear. His face spread in a slow, warm smile, his long dark eyes warming as they crinkled at the corners.

"Did you call my name?" he asked, and the honey of his voice lifted lightly in hope sent a shiver over your skin. Your heart had started to skip and dance when his beautiful face lit up with a slow, sweet smile. His voice only made it race that much faster.

A little breathless, you replied, "Yes, I did." Now that you’d begun, you weren’t sure how to proceed. Then Harry’s big green eyes were peering around the corner at you. Relieved, you smiled at the little cat that had hopped onto Sam’s windowsill to chirp at you. “I was going to ask if Harry is at your place, but…”

Sam laughed a little and scratched the top of Harry’s head, making her eyes close in bliss. “Do you want me to send her home?”

Watching your sweet little cat bask in the affection, and the sweet big man smiling down at her, you wouldn’t dream of breaking them up. You didn’t know what it was about a hot, muscular man gone soft over a tiny animal, but it had made you melt. “No,” you answered, your voice giving you away, so you cleared your throat discreetly and went on, “no, it's fine.”

Unsure what else to say, and feeling a little shy and embarrassed now that you’d started this, you ducked your head and started to pull back inside. You were already cursing yourself for being so awkward when Sam spoke.

Sam saw you getting ready to go back inside and, desperate, he said the first thing that came to mind to stop you. He had the chance he’d asked for and he was not the sort to let it go to waste. “She's so talkative,” he said quickly. When you looked up and smiled at him, he continued, "It must get lonely without her."

You grinned, a little sheepishly. "It really does. Is that silly?"

For the first time, Sam showed his teeth as he smiled and replied, “Not at all.” You’d never noticed the slight gap between his front teeth and found yourself completely charmed by it.

“Why don't you come over?” he asked, hoping he was reading your signals correctly. Busy with the internal meltdown you were experiencing, it took you a moment to understand the question. When it sank in, your eyes snapped to his. Another of those slow, warm smiles. “She can talk to both of us. And I can find out everything about you.”

You huffed out a little laugh, and the smile on your face took on a touch of shy that made Sam want to cuddle you. “That shouldn’t take long,” you flirted, lightly. “I'm pretty boring.”

Sam winked, happy to see that he wasn’t misreading signals, that you were willing to let him get a little closer. “I doubt that, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Sam's couch was long and plush, in a chocolate brown that matched his warm, velvet eyes. It also sat against the wall he shared with you, the arm you leaned on next to the open window. He sat against the other arm, Harry purring happily in his lap as she punctuated your conversation with meows, chirps, and purrs of her own.

No matter how it started, the conversation soon flowed. Sam was a wonderful listener, asking questions that showed he was genuinely interested in you, but he didn’t force you to carry the conversation, either. Rather, it felt more like a dance, each of you picking up on the rhythm of the other. Back and forth, it stayed a cheerful sway that nevertheless made your heart race.

After only a short time in his company, you couldn’t continue to feel awkward, no matter how beautiful he was. Being with him was both easy and exciting, as his eyes stayed warm and friendly, but with a heat that thrilled as they rested on you with appreciation.

Somehow, Sam was able, even when he was telling you stories about famous heroes, daring rescues, narrow escapes, to make it seem as normal as a day at the office. Maybe it was because he was a normal human, no matter how extraordinary, surrounded by the unusual and astounding, but his stories always focused on the funny and the weird. You never got the feeling that he was trying to impress you with the cool shit he did or the famous people he knew. You felt like he was trying to share with you the truly interesting part of who he was when he wasn't being normal.

He didn't dominate the conversation, however, encouraging you to share with him as much about yourself and your life as he did. Nor did he focus on his work, instead telling you about his family, his friends, his real life, drawing from you the same. The two of you talked and talked, and the time flew.

"I have a confession to make," he said, hours after you'd sat down, when the sun was low in the sky. His smile was sheepish, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Mm-hmm?" you replied with a raised eyebrow that hid the fact that he'd utterly charmed you over the course of the afternoon. You only hoped that he’d been charmed as well.

"Where you're sitting, next to the window, I can hear you talking to Harry sometimes. I try to avoid it, but I've listened to a couple of your conversations."

You weren’t surprised that he’d heard you from time to time; once you’d overheard him and Bucky you’d suspected he could hear you as well. The chagrin covering Sam made you think that he'd overheard something embarrassing, however, and your stomach dropped. "I see."

Sam's face fell into serious lines at the tone of your voice. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I knew it was rude when I did it." He took a deep breath and told the truth, no matter how vulnerable it made him feel. "To be honest, I like the sound of your voice, and I like your stories."

Your heart racing at his admission, you searched his face for any hint of laughter or irony and found none. Sam only had apology and sincerity over him, and you relaxed a little. "Which stories did you hear?"

Sam smiled a little, relieved that you didn't seem angry. "The quacking idiot. And the date from hell. That’s it, I promise."

You threw your head back and laughed. Both interactions were your weirdest lately, so you knew immediately to what he was referring. You were a little embarrassed that he'd heard you talking to Harry about the date since you'd gotten a little wistful and sad at the end, but the warm look in Sam's eyes made you feel like there was no need.

"A grown-ass adult fucking quacked at me," you said, wonder in your voice all over again at the reminder of that maniac.

Sam laughed, happy that his confession had gone well enough that you were laughing again. He was only more interested now that he'd seen you sparkle and shine. This afternoon had not alleviated the hunger he'd developed for you. The hours together had only whet his appetite.

"I had a couple of bruised ribs that day. Laughing hurt, if that makes you feel a little better about the violation to your privacy." His grin was slow and flirtatious, and you found yourself smiling back. It was hard to stay mad when his apology was so quick and sincere, and his smile was so charming.

"It does, actually," you winked. "Were you hurting on the night of the date-from-hell, too, 'cause I sure was."

"Actually, I was pissed." Sam's face fell back into those serious lines, and his dark eyes were intense on your face. "Some asshole had the chance I wanted and ruined it? What a waste."

Your breath caught, your skin going hot at the look of pure sensual interest that overtook his features, drawing them tight. Unable to think of what else to say, you sighed. "Oh."

Harry, who’d remained mostly silent, ostensibly napping, took this opportunity to purr-chirp at you, the sound indescribable without the word ‘smug.’ If a cat could say, ‘I told you so,’ Harry just did.

Sam grinned down at the little cat in your lap, his face softening, though the heat remained when he met your eyes once more. "I want to be honest,” he said, closing his hand around yours, the heat of his palm spreading through you in a gentle wave, “thought you should know where I stand, before I ask you if you want to get dinner with me.”

Harry chirped at you again, this time the sound encouraging and cheerful. You glared suspiciously down at her for a second, then looked back at Sam, whose eyebrows had climbed up at Harry's little meow.

With a half-smile, and less breath than you were used to, you answered, "When?”

When Sam's face lit up with excitement and he squeezed your hand, his smile made your heart race. "Now?" he asked, and you couldn't deny him if you wanted to.

You laughed, still a little breathless, but liking it. Shrugging, you flirted a little. "I could eat."

Instead of going out, the two of you agreed that you were more comfortable staying on Sam’s couch. Over the course of the afternoon, the two of you had moved closer. Rather than each of you on opposite ends, you were now sitting in the center, turned to face each other, knees touching.

As you laughed and talked your way through watching him demolish a truly astonishing amount of Chinese delivery, you only got closer, leaning forward to snag a potsticker or reaching over the other for the rice. He was so casual and relaxed, you couldn’t help but follow his lead. By the time you'd finished dinner, after-dinner coffee, and a glass of wine, his arm lay along the back of the couch where you rested your head and he had your hand in his, playing with your fingers. The next thing to in his arms, you had whiled away hours in a state of breathless anticipation.

When you, long after you should and deeply reluctantly, took your leave, Sam kept your hand in his as he walked you the few feet to your door.

"Thank you for inviting me over," you said with a smile as you turned to say good night. Your voice was soft, a little shy, but your eyes were warm with invitation. "I had a great time."

Sam saw no reason not to accept. This afternoon with you had been exhilarating, and he had no intention of letting this be the end of it, as long as you were amenable. You were even more appealing, more interesting than he'd thought, and the things he'd learned today had only made him want more. You let him draw you close with a gentle tug on your hand as his free hand came up to place a calloused palm against your throat.

His lips were a velvet counterpoint against that powerful hand, softly teasing, coaxing yours apart with a generous persuasion you didn't want to resist. When his tongue swept between your lips, yours was there to meet it, eager to taste him. You sighed at the flavor, spicy under the tart wine you'd shared.

Sam's knees, always steady under fire, went weak at the sweetness of that sigh. Tenderly, his thumb brushing over the line of your jaw, he reluctantly broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. With a low chuckle, he rasped, "You are always welcome."

You flashed the smile he'd discovered today, inspiring it his new favorite activity, and he was kissing you again, quick and hot. When this kiss broke, you were both breathing faster, and you wondered if it was as hard for him to keep his hands off you as it was for you to not invite it.

The growl that reverberated in his voice answered your question, the affirmative only making it that much harder to go slow. You wanted to take your time with this, however, make sure you did it right. Sam was so much more, so much better than you'd dared hope, you couldn't risk letting your libido overwhelm your common sense. The words he was speaking made your heart speed faster even as your fingers curled with desire. "I want to see you again," he said, dark eyes hot and intense on your face.

You didn't step away, unable to move away from the heat of his body, the heat you made between you, but not ready yet to walk into the flames. Instead, you kept your eyes on his, not bothering to hide the desire that kept you near him, the corner of your mouth quirking up, and flirted, "I think that's probable. We live awfully close to each other."

Sam's face melted into his big, gorgeous grin, showing you the gap in his teeth on which you'd developed a heart-eyed crush over the course of the afternoon. "You know what I mean." He brushed his thumb over your cheek, relishing the softness of your skin, aching to touch you more but not wanting to push. "Let me take you out for real, sweep you off your feet."

"I'll allow it," you smirked and laughed a little, lifting your arm to slide it around his neck and bring your body flush with his. He responded by dropping his hand from your face to slip his arm around your waist, finally taking you in burly arms, enfolding you against his wide chest. The laugh on his lips as yours met them tasted like the golden honey of his voice and you sank back in with a hum of pleasure.

You had taken about as much as you could without giving in completely and dragging him inside your apartment when his hands started to press and grip with a fervor that told you he was close to his limits as well. Reluctantly, with racing hearts and shaking hands, you pulled away and Sam didn't try to hold on.

Your breath still coming quickly, a sparkling smile trembling on your mouth, you opened your door and stepped inside. "The window will stay open," you rasped. "Call me tomorrow." With a final wink, you closed the door on Sam's cheerful grin. Turning, you took several long, deep breaths, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand.

Harry drew your attention to where she was curving around the edge of the window frame with a distinctly smug purring chirrup. When she hopped down and made a questioning no-need-to-thank-me mrr-oww, you snorted. "Shut up, Harry."

The sound of Sam's laugh coming through the window made you want to fan yourself again.

The next day, after you'd gotten home from work, you changed into casual clothes and flopped onto your couch. You hadn't been there more than three minutes before you heard Sam's voice calling your name.

You were mostly asleep when you heard Harry chirrup in excitement and jump off the bed to trot out to the front room. You assumed she was on her way to Sam's apartment to see Bucky.

A couple of months after you'd met them, Bucky had discovered that if he slept on Sam's couch, Harry would come sleep with him. Not long after, he realized that he slept deepest and easiest with Harry curled up on his chest. When sleep eluded, Bucky crashed at Sam's. Since Sam spent most nights in your bed these days, it wasn't a problem. Besides, it warmed your heart to see the soft-hearted soldier and the odd little cat take comfort in one another.

"Babe," you said softly when Sam's big, warm arm slid around your waist to snug you into the curve of his body, nuzzling the back of your neck, "is Bucky staying at your place tonight?"

Sam breathed deep, taking in the smell of you, warm and soft and drowsy, loving the intimate sound of your voice, rough and raspy with sleep. "Yeah, he could be." His answer was a low grumble that sent shivers down your spine and you snuggled back into him, still amazed that he was yours. "Harry?" he asked, the humor audible.

"Mmm-hmm." His lips were brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck and you were getting distracted, losing interest in the Mystery of Harry. You tilted your head forward to give him better access.

Sam smiled against your skin, pulling you close to whisper in your ear. "Are you sure that's a cat, and not someone pretending to be a cat?"

As his lips began to travel from under your ear over your neck and shoulders, you answered, a chuckle coloring your voice. "Sam, we've talked about this." You reluctantly leaned out of Sam's arms to push the bedroom door closed. Rolling over, you slipped your arms around him to brush your mouth over his strong jawbone. "No," you murmured. "I'm not." You gently closed your teeth around that gorgeous line and huffed out a laugh when he growled and pulled you in tight. "But she's such a good wingman we're gonna let it slide."

Sam lifted his head to smile sweetly at you. He loved the sound of your voice in the dark, the feel of your breath on his skin, the reality of this: his own spectacular normal. "Can't argue that."

Permanent taglist:

@hellzzzbelle​ @suz-123​ @cheekygeek05​ @lbouvet​ @diinofayce​  @bibliophile1773​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @destiel-is--endgame​ @irritated-bisexual​ @peaceinourtime82​​ @badassbaker​​ @walkingtravesty97​​ @fashionworld12​​ @readermia​​

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Dobson’s favorite cartoon reviewed: The adventures of spandex girl in New York aka the Miraculous Ladybug movie

So THIS is not going to be about a Dobson comic, but rather with the lack of Dobson posting shit out here, I thought I give my opinion about something Dobson would have likely sperged out within the last few months. What could it be I want to talk about? The riots? The death of RBG? Cuties?

Are you insane? My brain may function better than Dobson’s, but even so I am not touching those subjects with a tong, seeing how I myself am lacking detailed knowledge on such subjects. No. I am talking about the cartoon that makes Dobson’s little brain (and dick) all tingly: Miraculous Ladybug.

For starters, let me just say that despite being an animation fan myself, I am not really into this show at all. For a magical girl show that goes on for over three seasons at this point, I just feel like nothing happens in it. Sure, A LOT of tokusatsu and magical girl shows run on repetitive monster of the week formulas, but overall they will still have some progression to themselves. Growing up with Sailor Moon, I always loved the first season and how it actually made me feel like things are increasingly at stake as the story progressed. Especially in the final episodes when the Senshis actually died protecting Sailor Moon and it was only thanks to a Deus ex machina everyone was reincarnated again. As melodramatic as Sailor Moon could be, at least each story arc had a beginning and ending that did not overstay its welcome. Ladybug meanwhile can be summed up as followed:

 Teenage girl is thirsty for obvious blond boy whose dad wants to get magic jewelry to necromance his comatose wife. Teenage girl gets magic jewelry and turns into heroine in ladybug mustered spandex suit that makes rule34 artists all tingly. Same goes for boy she has the hots for, only he becomes gimp catsuit shota bait. Bad guy transforms random citizens who feel down for some reason (often times connected to a blond whose family name Dobson can’t write) into action figure like super villains. Ladybug and Cat Noir defeat them, the damage is reseted, Ladybug and Cat Noir never figure out who the other one is despite things being so obvious Ray Charles could have seen that shit coming. Repeat not just for one, but ALL seasons so far and add as little as possible storywise to increase the roaster of characters, but not progress the plot.

 All that said, I can say that there are worse shows out there and for a show meant to sell toys to girls and be about a female hero, it is not THAT bad. But a) the creator is an asshole (think of functional Dobson) and b) there are still better shows to watch, even within the preteen magical girl genre, than this. Not to forget that this thing may be the indirect successor of Totally Spies and give certain people internet related fetishes within the next few years.

So, why am I believing Dobson would talk about the show at least for today more than he already tends to do on average? Because Ladybug actually got now a movie.

Well, it is called a movie, but in reality it is more of a 3 parter to start the fourth season if you really look into it. The thing is called Miraculous World: New York – United HeroeZ. It clocks in around 65 minutes and focuses on Marinette and Adrien in New York, teaming up with new heroes that are so unsubtlety promoted in this movie, I expect them to get their own spin off series by the end of next year so the showmakers can milk the cow even drier.

Let me try to elaborate in what is going to be a less than just a bit snarky summary with a few critical points and jokes at Dobson’s expense thrown in here. In other words, the typical biased youtube reaction channel/movie review.  Spoiler warnings are obvious and I promise than unlike certain pedos on youtube I am not going to focus on the assets of underaged French girls. I do warn however for increased levels of making a fool of myself by writing a multi page “mock summary” of this thing.

So because the movie is based on a children show, it has a very basic set up; Adrien and Marinette’s class is invited to spend one week in New York, because of a pointless international collaboration thing referred to as French-American Friendship week. The sheer existence of this showing that a) we needed any reason to get them there and b) this special was worked on LONG before COVID19 hit us all. And yes, I know animation takes its time to be done, I just think it is funny how in today’s international political climate and health situation this thing has become outdated already, when it is hitting the tv just now.

 At the same time, Adrien’s dad suspects that an artifact currently shown at a museum in New York may be a missing Miraculous that was owned by the Marquis de La Fayette and gifted to George Washington during the American Revolution. And yes, we are going there and you can guess what Hawkmoth’s goal this time is, while at the same time history gets fucked up the butt.

 But before we can get to any action in New York, we have to deal with the one thing Ladybug is known for best: Cringy shipping bait.

 Look, I know that shipping is a part of magical girl shows in general, but the shit going on in this cartoon is not only drawn out tediously even for children tv standards, I find it makes some characters outright dumb and unlikable. We get it Marinette, Adrien makes you tingle. But can you stop cringing your way through life around him in a manner that would make Tomoko Kuroki say that you are freaking pathetic?

I don’t want anybody else. when I think about Adrien I...

 Just three minutes into this movie she essentially melts away at a poster of Adrien and throughout the first 15 minutes she just simps away in the big blue yonder. For example by asking Adrien’s dad to allow his son to travel with the others to New York, obviously stumbling upon her words when she needs to remind herself that she can only see Adrien now as a friend and not love interest (because this is supposedly set after season 3, when she decided to go for the second price in form of the guy who plays guitar), insisting that she is only “friends” to the point even her best friend Alya gets fed up. Or when Marinette gets more than just “a bit” nervous at the chance of sitting on her flight to New York next to Adrien, resulting in her fucking that chance up so badly, I felt an headache approaching. 

Not gonna lie, I had to pause a few times because it got so cringy for me, I wondered why Dobson makes primarily jokes on Adrien’s expense when Marinette herself is female thirst personified. Even the movie seems to point out how the two are so obvious to each other, when Alya has the following to say about them: I can’t decide if they are the most cutest people I know, or the most embarrassing.

Thankfully it is at 18 minutes into it, we FINALLY get something of a conflict. While still on the plane (And Adrien and Marinette watching a sunset through a window) a villain shows up, trying to steal the jet engine midflight.

 Just roll with it

 Thankfully, before the plane can go down thanks to a Gremlin on the wing- I mean TECHNO PIRATE, the real stars of the movie show up.

 Wait, you thought this thing was going to be about Ladybug and Cat Noir being the primary heroes? WRONG!

 Okay, to put the summary on hold and explain what I mean: This “movie” introduces us to “United HeroeZ”, a group of American superheroes. Yeah, turns out Miraculous is essentially set in your average “Superheroes are everywhere, but primarily US dominated territory” world and this story is meant to introduce us to them and have Ladybug and Cat Noir team up in order to save the day. And while I don’t necessarily HATE the characters, I have to admit that I can’t help myself but snark quite a bit about them. Not only are they for the most part just expies of well known superheroes, the way how prominent two of them in particular are featured in this movie makes it very, VERY obvious that (As I stated earlier) this thing aims just to create a tie-in show for the creators to make more money of the property. Not just that, but their presence in a way reduces Adrien and Marinette’s importance as characters, even though the new ones at best would count as supportive characters overall. Which again makes me wonder, what does it say about Ladybug and Cat Noir’s “impact” in their own franchise when I actually find myself more interested in the side characters made to promote new toys, than the actual leads?

 Anyway, United HeroeZ defeats Techno Pirate and in doing so we are introduced to the main members of the group which are relevant for this movie:

So please, give an applause for…. MAJESTIA (aka actually decent Powergirl redesign/Non Superman)

 SPARROW (Aka yet another Robin that may get hit by a crowbar)

UNCANNEY VALLEY (aka The Shipper on Deck/Cleopatra in Tin Foil/Vision as your Waifu/the dumbest name you could have chosen for a character!)

NIGHT OWL (aka Alan Moore is going to be pissed!/Oh look, it’s Batman!)

You get where I am coming from when I call them expies, right?

 Anyway, with the plane safe the class finally gets to New York. Both Sparrow and Uncanney Valley get tasked to go undercover with the students and assure they are save during the trip, because plot reasons and New York is supposedly enough of a safe place that their services aren’t needed to fight bigger threats currently. Which confirms at the very least that a) this is not the Marvel Universe cause at this point the town may be ground zero yet again and b) a way more enjoyable version of the Big Apple than the real deal.

By the way, these are Uncanney (left) and Sparrow’s (right) civilian identities :

I can now imagine Dobson wanting to proclaim how problematic the character is for being a native American who looks the way she does. But believe me. It gets kinda worse in all the right ways.

 Also, we are 28 minutes into the movie and we are introduced to the dumbest thing in the movie yet. The arch enemy of the Condiment King; Hot Dog Dan.

A superhero hot dog vendor seller with a flying hot dog truck, whose hot dogs give you temporarily some random superpowers when you eat them. And it seems he uses hot dog tongs as weapons.

I don’t know what the people making this show take, but I am torn between wanting some of that myself and putting them into rehab.

 I really bring the character just up because he is as a concept in itself so ridiculous that part of me thinks he is a fever dream of Dobson. Otherwise he has no real bearing on what is going to happen on the rest of the movie. He is just relevant for a three minute long scene of a house roof party during which Adrien and Marinette dance for a bit.

 Speaking of relevance, the next day the class finally gets to do something on the trip that leads into conflict for our heroes to face. During a visit of the museum where the La Fayette related Miraculous is hold, Uncanny and Sparrow decide to play shipper on deck by forcing Marinette and Adrien in a room and attempting to set a really stupid plot into motion (and no, I don’t mean they enforce a reenactment of Steven Universe or something). At the same time the villains finally do something, when Hawkmoth (now in New York) turns Techno Pirate into his latest minion and have him attack the museum to steal a saber by La Fayette as distraction, while he takes the charm he is out for. Long story short: Our heroes FINALLY transform and have to fight with Uncanney and Sparrow against Techno Pirate on the roofs of Manhattan.

 And while I don’t think it is all that great of a fight, it still means something aside of Marinette cringing her way through the plot is happening and the heroes are actually in decent peril. Plus during the fight the movie gives me one of the funniest moments possible. You want to know what it is?

 Well, while fighting the bad guy, Cat Noir and Ladybug obviously trigger their miraculouses. And what does Ladybugs miraculous turn into this time, to help her develop a strategy to defeat the villain and save the day?

A bikepump.

 ... yeah, I am going to give all of you now 5 minutes to laugh it off. Believe me, I needed them too.

Sure, it is a cartoon and I doubt anyone working on the show is even aware of our favorite uncare bear, but come on. At this point the universe itself is either mocking Dobson or tries to set up the perfect opportunity for an obvious joke from my side.

Not helped by the fact that once the bike pump shows up, the dialogue between characters that follows is, and I quote:

Cat: A bicycle pump? What are you going to do with that?

Ladybug: I may have an idea, but you wouldn’t like it

 Anyway, believe it or not, the fight actually ends with a surprising shock moment. Cat Noir, while having his cataclysm powers active (you know, the powers that make him decompose anything he touches), being thrown by Techno Pirate at Ladybug, resulting in Uncanney protecting her and being turned into scrap metal. Which in turn causes Techno Pirate to make the acquaintance with Majestia’s fist, as Uncanney is more or less her adopted daughter and I guess she has seen what was going on (but did not interfere because the plot says so) until now, pummeling him so hard he flies through a few buildings and causes at least three 9/11 to happen on this day in New York.

So, yeah. Uncanney is dead. The heroes experiencing their darkest hour in the movie.

… welp, can’t have that for long, so less than 2 minutes later Ladybug uses the Magical bikepump…

5 minutes of laughter later

Got it out of the system? Good. As I was saying; She uses the fetish toy to reset all the damage done by the akumatized villain and in doing so fixes Uncanney too.

Welp, that was a waste of tension. Guess someone watched the entire Lars dying thing from Steven Universe.

So, damage undone, but Majestia and Night Owl pretty pissed at what happened, want Ladybug and Cat Noir to give up their miraculouses (I assume that is the correct plural) until they leave New York. You would expect this to result in some dramatic chase scene or confrontation with the older heroes, but because this movie has just like 22 minutes left and we need to close act two now, our heroes instead flee and end up in the sewers of New York.

There they do NOT team up with a group of mutated reptiles, but have a heart to heart talk (I never thought I would agree with Dobson on something, but I have to agree on this: The show is kinda fixated on having important stuff happening in sewer channels) that is sort of an argument Cat Noir and Ladybug also had during the fight. You see, because those two idiots haven’t  figured out their respective civilian identities yet (something even Sailor Moon would have figured out AFTER THREE SEASONS!) Marinette assumed that Cat Noir would be in Paris while she is in New York to keep the city save. And Adrien/Noir was okay with making the promise of keeping the city initially save, because his dad only allowed him on the trip the day after he made the promise. So when the two transform out of sight of the other in New York and meet, instead of asking some logical questions (like “where is Marinette/Adrien and why is Cat/Ladybug here?”) they kinda argue wtf Cat is doing here while Paris may be in danger.

Long story short, she is angry at him, he feels guilty for having disappointed her and the thing with turning Uncanney into scrap, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth’s secretary unleashing temporarily some monster clone because Hawkmoth thought that distracts the heroes in Paris (and really just results in damage that makes a city that experienced the destruction of Notre Dame the year prior just feel numb) and because this is the turning point in the plot, our hero needs to do something just a bit too melodramatic. Which is that Adrien gives up his powers and runs away.

… so, up to the final part in which things to care about start to happen.

Hawkmoth now has the Miraculous and unleashes its Kwami who is this eagle themed little thing referring to itself as the “Kwami of Freedom”.

 … Yeah, this thing was NOT around for the last 200 years, wasn’t it?

 Anyway, it states that its powers are based on “freeing” people of limitations to achieve their full potential. What does that mean practically? It means that when Techno Pirate holds its powers on top of his regular powers increased by being akumatized, he can unleash some energy attack that removes moral inhibitions when getting hit by it.

… So it basically unleashes the Purge.

 Which is exactly what happens to Majestia and Night Owl, turning one into Man of Steel Superman causing nine additional 9/11s on top of the three prior (how the fuck did this movie manage to turn an American tragedy in a measuring unit?) and the other into All Star Batman.

Oh and it turns the President of the USA into a worse war monger than people accuse Trump of being.

Oh, this is NOT going to sit well with anyone...

… Yeah, sidenote: The president of the USA in this movie is essentially Michelle Obama who ALSO is a superhero with an American flag theme and besties with Majestica and Night Owl, trying to protect the exchange students. Because supposedly NOTHING better needs to be done. Once she gets hit by the “Freedom Feathers” or whatever you want to call the Kwami power, she pulls out the Football and activates turrets all over the USA, ready to blow up anything that moves into smithereens. Including at least 10.000 such turrets on the roofs of New York and a nuclear missile in the bay near the Statue of Liberty.

I’ll take it to the people with the eagle not the dove. If there is one thing that obedience is symptomatic of, it’s W-E-A-P-O-N-R-Y... WEAPONRY, from above!

(BTW, the rocket is animated like shit!)

I get the feeling someone on the production team is not the biggest fan of America.

 Anyway, with the heroes being useless and Marinette and Adrien mopping around for what happened during the battle (and Adrien being tricked by his dad to leave New York and get back on a plane cause this town is not save and Adrien can’t fucking stand up to his emotionally abusive father), Uncanney and Sparrow have to get the ball rolling so the day can be saved. Which means that Sparrow and Ladybug try to fight and distract people for time (off screen mostly), while Uncanney hijacks Adrien’s plane and brings him back to take up the gimp suit of Cat Noir again. Oh yeah, almost forgot, Uncanney, cause she is a robot, has figured out easily who Ladybug and Adrien really are cause scanning. Making our heroes literally dumber than a walking toaster.

 So the four finally together, fight Techno Pirate on the Statue of Liberty a second time (after some hijinx with another corrupted hero whose power is literally to create portals through doors, but he is irrelevant for anything so I skipped him up until now) and defeat him. He loses the Miraculous, Sparrow takes it on and becomes its next official owner, resulting in her costume turning into THIS

 So now we have the native American girl turn into an eagle based superhero with a costume that looks like out of a western based Lego set.

Real talk here: Unlike Dobson I do not believe that everything is political or offensive or some other shit. In fact I hate his comic where he talks about “skin color changes” of the black characters in Ladybug, because he essentially tries to create a race issue and tension where there is none, just because he is a social justice moron. Which gets especially funny when his ideas for a progressive female results in characters like the black rat pirat who kicks you in the face for being hetero or infantilizing the characters of Patty to make them visually more appealing to Max Karson.

That said, in this day and age, doing a character like that… kinda yaiks.

Like, on one hand I think the girl has an enjoyable personality and the design of her hero outfit is okay for a kids cartoon. It’s not like she also talks in some cartoonishly native way or has suddenly a tomahawk as a weapon.

On the other hand, it is kinda stereotypical from multiple ankles and unfortunately there is nothing to the character past this point. Oh sure, Sparrow has now Miraculous powers, but really, all she does now is just use her powers to nullify Techno Pirates influence on the adult heroes before Majestia manages to reenact the bad ending for Majora’s mask and that is it.

Granted,  there is Hawkmoth also almost starting World War 3, but that is really just happening at the site and dealt with almost instantly. To be more specific, because Ladybug and Cat Noir did not hand over their Miraculous, he lets Techno Pirate launch one of the missiles near the Statue of Liberty (worse president than Trump, honestly) but before the thing can hit anything, Majestia sweeps it away and throws it into the sun.

You know, if the show writers want to make Adrien’s dad even remotely “sympathetic” or interesting/intelligent, they increasingly fail. Cause I don’t know about you, but causing World War 3 does not really feel like it will benefit in bringing your comatose wife back.

Bottom line: Nuke has been burned, Techno Pirate gets defeated, all the damage reseted, Sparrow is now the official owner of the latest Miraculous and renames herself Eagle, everyone is happy, there is a big celebration for the class and Hawkmoth is convinced there might be other missing Miraculous all over the globe he wants to get his hands on, meaning season 4 may have more globe trotting Miraculous “action” once it starts.

And also the last scene of the movie shows Eagle and Uncanney meeting some other guardian of the Miraculous box who wants the Eagle charm, but she seemingly convinces him to team up, solidifying that this one hour “movie” was really just a backdoor pilot for a tie in series about an American centered heroine that is so big, a freaking monster truck could pass through this backdoor.

 Yeah, if you can’t tell, I am not a big fan of what I saw.

Look, I will openly admit that my opinion on this is in large parts already tainted by me not being part of the demographic which enjoys the show. So this was never going to be considered “good” in my opinion. That said, I tried to be neutral to it for the sake of fairness. And I kinda failed.

Sorry, but I genuinely do not think this is a good “movie”. First, with barely 65 minutes I don’t really consider it a movie and more of a tv special meant to lead into the next season of the show. Second, I expect of a movie based on a tv show to have slightly higher stakes and presentation value to it than what you would expect from any average episode it has to offer. Which this thing doesn’t. Oh sure, the animation is slightly improved in some scenes, but overall just the same. And frankly, the writing is just still as “bad” as in the original show, if in parts not even worse. Aside of the typical stables, such as the cringy romance that does not move forward but is kinda on the forefront, the main heroes stumbling more or less into the situations instead of being more active in their duties, Hawkmoth not even in a movie having a genuine plan aside of “get this, see how it will help me defeat two kids and fail”, the movie also just never manages to induce a proper escalation of conflict to make it feel like something “special”. For example, we have a shitton of temporarily corrupted heroes. Do Ladybug and Cat Noir ever properly face them off at one point or have meaningful/fun interactions with Sparrow and Uncanney or each other outside of the first three minutes of the movie? Nope! I can name a few movies based on animated shows that gave me enjoyment, even those following basic shonen anime rules. But this one isn’t really among them. And taking into account that I consider at least the Steven Universe movie enjoyable in a dumb way, that says something.

 There is also just the fact that it takes away from Ladybug and Cat Noir too much. Sure, I don’t like the romance stuff with them because I think it plays out in some of the cringiest way possible. But I would have been okay with them or other already established sidecharacters doing other stuff and having to face some conflict that is centered more around them.

Instead the movie finds this bizarre disbalance where it focuses too much and yet too little on completely new characters, that feel shoehorned in to create a starting point for a spin off, making Cat Noir and Ladybug secondary characters in their own movie.

I mean sure, I have seen many shonen anime based movies where there is a set of “movie only” characters interacting with our heroes, but they don’t take too much away from the heroes being heroes. Say what you want about the 13th movie of any long running shonen anime, at least Luffy, Naruto, Son Goku etc. are still the central characters of their respective franchise affiliated flic. Here however we take too much away from Ladybug and Cat, while at the same time focusing also too much on their “struggle” as Marinette and Adrien (or rather just Marinette making a fool out of herself while Adrien is utterly obvious to her behavior) while the major heroics are reserved for the movie characters only, that this entire thing should just be renamed “The Adventures of Mummy Robot and Not Robin, also starring two underaged kids that Dobson is obsessed about!”

 All that said, I will give it a few things.

1) Uncanney and Sparrow/Eagle, despite my jabs, are kinda enjoyable in terms of personality. So are their partners/parents (Majestica and Night Owl are actually the (adoptive?) mothers of their sidekicks and also a couple openly caling themselves love, so yay, L(GBT) representation) and if the show would ever decide to focus also a few episodes on other characters aside of Ladybug and Cat Noir, I wouldn’t mind to see them. I just don’t think they are the most original characters out there and I think I may speak for some fans of the show when I say it sucks, that when it comes to the “action” within this “action adventure show”, they take up the spotlight from the actual main characters.

2) The fight scenes against Techno Pirate were okay overall. Nothing mind blowing animation wise but okay for the standards of this franchise.

3) Eagle’s costume design is not the worst despite my jabs at it being “stereotypical”, at least under consideration of cartoon designs (again, I can think of more offensive shit from the 90s or the Dobbear himself)

4) Well, it wasn’t for me, but I can say it was at least still on the same level of quality as the show. Make out of that comment however whatever you want.

My verdict: Three out of five Dobson’s would approve this movie. The other two would rant about stereotypes and be too busy incest shipping Majestia with Uncanney based on one shot of the movie. And none of them would acknowledge the flaws that make the “movie” a badly disguised jumping point for a spin off that makes the Equestria Girls look subtle.

 Hope you got some enjoyment out of this rant that ironically may have been overall more retarted and detailed than anything Dobson may ever say in regard of this movie.

[the-loners-library]

Teach Me - Part 3/?

Prompt: Clint teaching you how to do a cartwheel.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Clint / Reader

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Authors Note: I’m going a little off Clint’s backstory in comics (acrobatic background from his carny days). Clint also still has his family a secret from everyone except for Natasha.

       The training room at Avengers Tower was usually occupied by at least one person at any time. That was to be expected when you worked with highly trained superheros, assassins, and gods. However, you weren’t exactly the physically adept type. You were only a part of the team because of your somewhat supernatural abilities- Fury had found you and brought you into the fold not long after the Battle of New York. You wouldn’t call yourself out of shape or unhealthy, but you couldn’t dead lift a car or call a man with your pinky finger. That wasn’t news to anyone, but you still felt embarrassed trying to work out in front of the others. It was because of that that you had worked out the perfect time when the training room was empty.

      You were trying (and failing, in your opinion) to learn something between a gymnastics floor routine mixed with kung fu. To be honest, by the looks of your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that made up one whole wall of the room, you weren’t very successful in looking fierce and capable. That feeling was exacerbated by the sound of someone trying and failing to hide their laughs. You quickly tried to stop your body movement halfway during a spin to look at the culprit, and promptly fell on your face.

      “Owwww,” you whimpered. Luckily the floor was padded. You heard soft padding footsteps coming towards you before a hand was shoved in front of your face. You gripped and were pulled up face to face with Clint.

      “Nice an ice pack, Ballerina?” he asked, laugh still evident in his voice. You huffed at him and turned your back, embarrassed that he had caught you.

      “Awwww, I’m sorry,” he said to your back. “Didn’t mean to laugh, but you looked so into it!”

      You cocked your eyebrow at him and walked slowly over to the treadmill. At least you could walk on that for a little bit and then return to your room to lick your wounds.

      Clint likewise made his way his way to a machine close to you. You both worked quietly, just the hum of the air conditioner in your ears.

      “You know,” Clint suddenly spoke, almost making you jump in shock. “Nat may be the trained ballerina, but I know a thing or two about acrobatics.” 

      You merely turned your head to look at him. 

      “It’s true!” he urged. “I’ve even beaten her a few times with my twists and turns.”

        As he spoke he made some contortions with his boy that almost made him slip on the treadmill. He quickly caught himself and you chuckled to yourself. Guess you weren’t the only clumsy one.

      “I believe you. Perfect gymnast specimen right here.”

      “Don’t be mean,” he pouted. “No pressure. But I could try and show you something simple for now. I’m not much of a teacher, but I’m willing to try.”

      You bit your lower lip in contemplation. You did want to try and become more capable on missions, physically. But what if embarrassed yourself further?

      “Come on. It’s just me. I got all my laughs out, I promise,” he swore, lifting his hands in a mock boy scout salute.

      “Fine,” you sighed, turning off your treadmill and making your way to the middle of the gym primarily used for floor work.

      Clint cheered before following you.

      He shook out all of his joints, looking pointedly at you to do the same. You gave him a strange look, but did as suggested.

      Suddenly, he did a perfect floor routine that wouldn’t have been out of place at the Olympics.

      You were speechless, before giving him a round of applause. He did a mock bow and blew kisses to an imaginary crowd.

      “Okay, I submit. You are pretty good at gymnastics.”

      “Damn straight. Okay, fun stuff first…. Cartwheels!”

      “Oh no no no,” you muttered, backing away and crossing your arms back and forth. “I like my neck not broken, thank you very much.”

      Clint approached you like you would a wild animal. “I thought you said you trusted me? I swear I will not let you hurt yourself.”

      You made a high pitched whining noise, internally freaking out.

      “The last time I did a cartwheel I was in elementary school and a lot more flexible and probably 50 pounds lighter.”

      “Weight doesn’t have too much to do with it, neither does flexibility. Mostly balance.”

      He ran you through a few basic warm ups- mostly yoga poses that stretched your back and made you nearly fall over a dozen times.Clint started out holding your body in place making sure you didn't actually fall. You don’t know how long you were both there, but eventually, you found that Clint was no longer holding your balance for you and you were less shaky.

      It was then that Clint decided that you were ready to start trying a headstand against a wall. He helped you place your head on the cushioned floor and pulled your legs up until you were upside down. Neither of you mentioned the squeal that came out of your lips at that.

      After you were able to do that for a full minute by yourself without falling on your face, Clint led you back over to the middle of the floor. It was now time to actually try to do a cartwheel without falling on your face. 

      You had to admit, Clint was very helpful in this “lesson”. Even now, he slowly set you up so you were doing a handstand, and then guided your body sideways until your feet were on the round again. You went through this routine many more times- going faster each time.

      “Now… the moment of truth,” Clint announced. You looked at him in fear. “You’re going to do one yourself.”

      You let out a small, “Eeeep,” as you watched Clint take a huge step back. You took a deep breath and shook out all of your limbs. You stood straight-backed with your arms in the air, and with a final breath, quickly spun your arms down to the side- your body quickly following. 

      SUCCESS!!!

      As you stood upright once more you felt your eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at Clint. He grinned at you and started applauding. You should have felt humiliated, but strangely, you felt that despite his usual antics that he was actually proud of you.

      “You know,” you started as you walked closer to him. “I think you’d make a pretty good dad someday.”

      Clint raised an eyebrow in question.

      “Even though I really sucked, and that must have been really hard for you you never burst out into laughter. It was… nice…” you admitted.

      Clint had a strange look on his face that you couldn’t decipher for a moment before he quickly rushed to you and ruffled your hair into a mess.

      “You’re lucky I’m not your dad. You’d be grounded for trying to mix kung fu and gymnastics. Badly, I mean.”

      You tried to fix your hair before giving up and simply crossing your arms in protest.

      “You try and I’ll kick your ass, Bird Brain.”

[vspideycaptain]

Meeting Chris

Reader x Chris Evans (Feat. RDJ, Zendaya, Chris Pratt, Tom Holland and other marvel actors)

A/N: You’re the newest addition to the Gaurdians cast and as a MCU actor and it’s the night of your first ever MCU cast party. This one is orchestrated by Chris Pratt for Chris Hemsworth’s birthday. Its and 80s theme and through your anxieties your friends help you through meeting people, specifically Chris Evans.

I’m a little prouder of this one but it does takes a little bit to get to the point when Chris Evans shows up but I hope you find that its worth the build up.

Warnings: Fluff and alcohol and angst. WORD COUNT: 2735

 ---------------------

It had been only about 15 minutes after I had wrapped my scenes for the day when I heard a knock on my trailer door. Praying that it isn’t a PA asking me to return to set as I had already taken half of my make up off I approach the door. I am pleasantly surprised to see that it is not a member of the crew but it is Chris Pratt. “Hey (Y/N/N)! Just double checking that you can make it to Chris’s birthday party tonight?” He asked cheerfully. I nodded hesitantly, “Yeah I’ll be there… 80s party right?” I shifted my weight to lean against the door frame to pretend as through I am not anxious about my first Hollywood party but since Chris and I have gotten pretty close he can read me. “Yeah it is!” he starts in a more forceful cheery tone and then switches to a more caring one, “Listen, I bet you’re bricking it right now but I promise you as intimidating Hollywood parties sound they’re much more relaxed.” I nod and give him a half-hearted smile, “Thanks.”

Chris wasn’t fully convinced that I was feeling better because he put both his hands on either of my shoulders to shake me out of my head. “I have an idea. How about you come to the venue right now and help me set up a little so you at least have the party setting under your control so when you actually arrive and everyone else is there you have less to digest.” I took a deep breath and considered his proposal. He shook me once more making me feel small but breaking me out of my head once more, “Yeah that sounds great.” I answered him and he clapped his hands together in approval. “Great! You have the address, yeah? Meet you there in like a half hour.” And just like that he was off and I got ready to leave.

I took an uber to work that morning as mine was in the shop so I gave the driver the address to the pub the party was to be at and on my way I went. It was about an hour long drive with California traffic but as we got closer I recognized that it was much closer to my temporary apartment. When we pulled up and I stepped out of the uber I was shocked to realize that the venue wasn’t a pub like Pratt had suggested it was. It was the infamous Viper club! This was the club known for crazy Hollywood parties and haunting encounters. I definitely started to question whether I was in the right place so I texted Chris that I thought I was in the right place. Moments later he opened the front door and allowed me inside. I was in the right place after all.

It was a surprisingly small location but was already looking perfect for the guest that were bound to come. Not everyone from the MCU could make it to this party but I good handful was coming so Pratt and I had a great deal of work on our hands. It was myself, Chris and his team putting up 80s memorabilia. Well really it was myself and his team putting up decorations while Chris curated the playlist for the night. About an hour went by and the party was set to start in about 3 hours so I told Chris I was calling myself an uber so I could go get ready. His response, “Nonsense! I have two drivers here right now. Take one back to your place and return it tonight. Thanks for your help.” He walked me out and hugged me at the door, “Don’t worry about tonight, I got your back” I thanked him again for all of his kindness before getting into the car and heading to my apartment.

I walked into my temporary apartment as I was still hunting for a permanent place and rushed to my bathroom to freshen up. One musical shower concert later and I facetimed my now good friend Zendaya for outfit help. Together we looked through my closet and my makeup collection and formulated the best 80s theme outfit for the night. We decided that since she was going fully Whiney Houston glam that I needed to go full Madonna fashionista. I threw on a plain white tee that had some distressed holes at the collar and put on a black skirt with suspenders on over it. Paired it with a bowler hat and piled an abundance of chunky bracelets on my wrists. When I moved on to the makeup portion Zen talked me through how to get the eye shadow and eyeliner just right. And to top the look all off I used my old crimper to style my hair.

I bid my friend goodbye and checked the time; I had a few minutes to spare so I walked to my bathroom to check my appearance one last time before calling up Chris’s driver to come pick me up. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to talk myself down from a panic attack. “Just take it moment by moment. If everyone is half as kind as RDJ, Zendaya, or Pratt this evening will be easy. You already know a good portion of people going anyway. Tom Holland and Chris Harmsworth will be there too…. Well duh, its his birthday but that’s something you can focus on if things get rocky. It’s a celebration so have fun and nothing will go wrong.” I talked to myself and took in a deep breath. It was now or never so I called the driver and before I knew it I was on my way back to The Viper Room.

The second I opened the door the venue the sound of Madonna herself filled the atmosphere. Chris Pratt noticed me instantly from his spot at the bar and made his way over to me to greet me with a big bear hug. “There you are! Great look! Very Madonna!” He said and then realized that Like A Virgin was playing over the speakers and got all excited, “Very appropriate for your entrance.” He then nudged me like he was suggesting something more. My jaw dropped, he didn’t seriously think I was a virgin… I pushed his arm away, “I am not a virgin, you weirdo!” He put his arm up in defense, “No no! Well… What I meant was you’re a MCU party virgin and you’re dressed as Madonna!” The feeling of embarrassment rushed over me and internally I was so thankful for my heavy 80s blush to hide the actual blushing I was doing. “Lets get a drink.” Chris said and ushered me to the bar and I couldn’t have been more onboard.

The second we arrived one of the bar tenders was asking for my order and I asked for my typical drink of a Gin and Tonic. Pratt and I made conversation about how great everything regarding the party turned out as I waited for my drink when Hemsworth made his way over. As I had been working with him on Guardians 3 there was no introduction to be made. In fact when he spotted me he was lifting me up into a big hug. He was clearly already a few drinks and maybe shots into the night as he smelt strongly of rum. “(Y/N) you’ve made it! I heard you helped throw this all together!” the Thor actor said as he lifted me above the crowd. With my new point of view I was exposed to the party and found a few eyes of people I had admired me like Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans who were at a table in the corner. I got very self-conscious as I watched Chris start to grin wildly as he looked between Scarlett and I’s very similar outfits. We seemed to have both gone for the famous Madonna look.

“Put me down Hemsworth!” I yelled down to him and once he put me on the ground I gave the man a real hug and tried to push the uncomfortable feels to the back of my mind. “Happy Birthday!” I said in his ear and he smiled goofily as he thanked me and separated us. The bartender was back with my drink and I took it and took a big gulp to help ease the nerves. But then my attention was back on Pratt who was laughing and pointing at myself and then to something behind me. When I turned around it was Scarlett and Chris making their way over to us. As she made her way I tried to get a gage on how she was feeling about matching with me. Was it going to be one of those “One of us has to change and it’s not going to be me” moments? I wasn’t sure as I surveyed her face which was smizing but as for Chris Evans who was walking behind her, he was staring me down intensely in a way I just couldn’t read.

I was relieved when Scar-Jo had brought me in for a hug and hello the second we connected. We had a laugh at the sameness of our outfits as the three famous  Chris’s took in the sight and all started taking pictures. We did a round of posing for each phone. I turned to Scarlett and asked if we could take one on my phone and she thankfully agreed. I reached for it and started to hand it to Pratt, “Pratt-Pratt take our picture!” said over the booming of the start of Sweet Dreams by The Eurythmics. But once Pratt and the others around me realized the song they all got excited and started yelling something about RDJ. “Come on! We’ll be right back (Y/N/N)!” Chris’ Pratt and Hemsworth said as the dashed out of sight with Scar-Jo. Leaving me and Chris Evans by ourselves….

I didn’t know what to do as this was the first time we had ever been in the same room. I wasn’t very good at this kind of interactions but luckily Chris took the lead and asked me if I wanted to follow him back to his table. I agreed and took the seat that Scarlett was in before me. He extended his hand toward me and it took it for a shake and then found him pulling me in for a an air kiss. “I’m Chris, its great to finally meet you!” He said and I returned his smile, “I’m (Y/N). Thank you for inviting me over. Pratt promised to babysit me tonight and he’s already failing.” I said with a chuckle but internally I was growing more and more nervous as I realized Chris’s eyes scanning all over my face and even to my body. “Babysit? You hardly need babysitting. What are you 20?” He asked and I nodded in return, “23 actually. You’re right I don’t need him!” I said with a bit more confidence and took another swig of gin.

There was something about Chris that I really couldn’t figure out. He made me feel both insecure and confident as we were chatting. His piercing blue eyes never left my being the second we sat down and I could feel this tension between us but I kept telling myself it was in my head. There was no way Chris Evans was checking me out. We sat there for awhile talking about where we grew up as we had that sort of in common having both been born in Massachusetts. Series of songs past; Straight Up by Paula Abdul, PYT by Michael Jackson, Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses, and You May Be Right by Billy Joel by the time Chris gets up to get us drinks and as I wait my I my phone buzzes on the table.

I pick it up to find the last person I wanted to see a message from had texted me. I sighed heavily and locked my phone immediately. Chris returns with the round of our drinks and notices my changed demeanor. “You alright?” He asked me and handed me my drink. I rolled my eyes and locked my phone, “Yeah just an ex-best friend asking for favors again… People say fame changes people but you always assume it’s the one in the spotlight not the people around them.” I said defeated and Chris and I’s eyes lock. He looks at me with so much intensity I almost forget the dreadful text until he spoke, “I know exactly how you feel. I lost a lot of friends after booking my first movie. I’m not gonna lie to you it’s gonna be hard but you’ll find a family in the people here and form close bonds and we’ll all make sure you’re staying afloat.” When he finished speaking he subconsciously patted his hand on my knee and let it linger there for a moment.

And just like in 80s rom-coms the music changed on cue to I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston and like clock work a figure started running towards us. It was Zendaya who must have arrived without me noticing seeing as she was halfway through her drink, “(Y/N)! You promised me you’d dance to Whitney with me! Come one!” She said and practically dragged me out of the chair. I turned back to Chris and gave him a wave as an apology for the sudden departure. Zendaya pulled me along until we reached Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland (Who I have slowly started to make more progress and we have started to feel more comfortable around each other after our first meeting.) In a flash I was being introduced to Jake and saying hello to Tom as we all danced to the pop music. Zen pulled me toward her and then turned me around as we dramatically lip synched. As a moved I couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes on me and as I looked around they were Chris Evans’. He had his glass to his lips as if he was frozen in time until he realized I had caught him staring again and he flashed me an unexpected wink and got up from his chair and disappearing.

For the rest of the night I danced and mingled with the rest of the Marvel stars. I didn’t get another chance to speak to Evans again before leaving but I found him continuing to look at me from across the room. I didn’t know what it meant as I barely knew him but he didn’t seem like the predator type. I tried to rationalize his actions over and over, “There is no chance Chris Evans is into you. You’re reading into it (Y/N).” I told myself as I grabbed my coat from the check in desk and got ready to leave. My hand on the handle to leave I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find low an behold, Evans again. “Sorry. I know you’re leaving but…” He started very nervously and pulled his phone from his pocket, “I just couldn’t let you leave without exchanging numbers… You know incase you need anything!” He said and I calmed down as that had seemed like a reasonable request. We swap phones and I entered my number into his contacts but when we go to switch he swiped my phone away, “Did you ever get that picture you asked Pratt to take?” He asked and I shook my head no and watched Chris open the camera on my phone and as he asked me to pose. I laughed at this incredibly dorky moment and played along by giving him my signature pose that my swagger coach taught me. He took the picture and admired his work, “Perfect.” He said a little quieter before handing me my phone. I thanked him for the chats and the great night and left.

Back in my uber back to my apartment I played over the events in my head as all of it confused me. “Did Chris Evans really just call me perfect? What did all of that mean?” I questioned all the way to my home and to my bed where drowsiness took me over and I fell asleep.

*This story goes with ‘The Real War’ series visit MasterList if interested.*

[dawnover-dusk]

like water, like air (breathe)

like water, like air (breathe)

summary: all you know is that every time you surface, you inevitably sink again. but jeonghan is like air, and you’re afraid that once he leaves, you won’t survive in water anymore.  

resident psychiatrist jeonghan x resident internist reader

At every step, you felt like you were drowning. After four years, you thought that you could finally break through the currents and let air fill your starved lungs, but relief, like it always was, was temporary. One month later, the waves magnified and crashed over you again, and you could barely remember what it felt like to be able to breathe.

So when you introduced yourself to the senior residents on your new team, you had to stifle a gasp at the picturesque man who occupied the seat next to yours, his hand outstretched with a lazy grin. He wore a billowy button-down shirt with red and white pinstripes tucked into black slacks, the top button undone to expose the expanse of his neck and hint at defined clavicles.

“Jeonghan,” he stated, platinum blonde hair framing his hooded eyes. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” you muttered, your hand grasping his delicately. You busied yourself with grabbing your list from the printer and trying to clear your mind of unnecessary thoughts, most of which were surrounding your fellow intern lazily running his long fingers over his own patient list.

“Just to warn you,” Seungcheol, your senior resident, began, “the attending on service is a bit of a hardass. Really nitpicky, so be thorough when presenting admissions.” He had swiveled around in his chair to address the two of you, and you could see the faint dark circles outlining his otherwise warm eyes. He glanced at you for a moment before breaking out into a gummy smile, “Don’t look so worried, though. This dude graduated a month ago so he’s only been an attending for like, two seconds. We’ve got your back.”

Jihoon, the other senior resident, ceased his endless typing to let out a grunt. “I’ve seen him make interns cry. It’s so unnecessary,” he gruffly agreed.

“That’s not very impressive,” you shrugged. “Scrub techs made me cry in medical school, it’s not really a feat.”

Jihoon had resumed typing in his orders, but you could see him raise an eyebrow. “You know, it’s not very common to just blatantly admit your weaknesses to people when you first meet them.”

“We’re only together for a month,” you smiled. “I thought we could speed up the ‘getting to know each other’ process.” You could hear Jeonghan’s tinkling laughter beside you, and you turned to face your computer to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks from the sound.

However, you couldn’t ignore the sky blue post-it that made its way to your keyboard. You glanced at your neighbor out of the corner of your eye, but Jeonghan was diligently writing down lab values, his lips ever so slightly parted.

Shua made me promise to look out for his “crybaby,” but he didn’t tell me that you were so pretty :) I always keep my promises, so don’t worry!

You snatched the post-it, along with your list, and with a quick “I’m going to pre-round now bye!” you were out the door, missing the upward curl of Jeonghan’s lips.

---

me [7:01 AM]: JOSHUA HONG me [7:01 AM]: how dare u gossip about me to our peers me [7:02 AM]: it’s so embarrassing me [7:02 AM]: also why is ur friend flirting with me

joshuji [7:05 AM]: can you, like, not??? i was trying to use the interpreting service and your texts kept buzzing my phone joshuji [7:05 AM]: don’t you have patients to see too

me [7:05 AM]: sending image

joshuji [7:07 AM]: big yike joshuji [7:07 AM]: this is so out of character for him? he was actually really shy and nervous in medical school. idk maybe you are pretty go get it ;)

me [8:00 AM]: i was so horrified that i did not regain the ability to type until now. get what, exactly? me [8:00 AM]: also i know that i’m not your type but MAYBE?? me [8:01 AM]: rude. i retroactively retract all my “you look so nice today” statements

joshuji [8:03 AM]: fine. you’re pretty for a crybaby joshuji [8:03 AM]: lunch in the lounge at 1?

me [8:05 AM]: ofc. my few constants in life – complaining in the lounge and getting sassed by you. wouldn’t miss it

---

You would be impressed that you had lasted a whole week if you weren’t busy trying to disguise the familiar stinging set behind your eyes. The workroom felt stuffier than usual, with the addition of two eager medical students in the corner and the attending in the center, his unrelenting gaze on you. After fumbling with finding what the initial vital signs in the ED were and when the last albuterol dose was given, your panic had risen to the point where your mind was wiped clean. And of course, that was when he had asked you to give a differential diagnosis.

You were never so grateful for the hierarchy established than you were at that moment. Seungkwan and Chan did well in filling in different etiologies for respiratory distress, and you made a note to give them positive feedback at the end of the day. However, it was your turn to give the leading diagnosis, and Seungcheol and Jihoon glaring daggers at the attending’s back did little to ease your anxiety.

You felt a light touch at your elbow and a pen clatter to the floor beside you. Jeonghan leaned over and whispered, the sound disguised as a cough as he swooped down to pick up the pen. Fighting off the embarrassment, you held onto this shred of information that Jeonghan had slipped you like a buoy, only letting out a deep exhale when the attending nodded in satisfaction and left to see the patients.

“Excuse me,” you whispered as you stood up, hurriedly opening and slamming the door to the workroom behind your retreating figure. You escaped to the nearby call room, empty and dark in the day time, and tried to catch your breath on one of the threadbare mattresses.

Seungcheol gave an imperceptible nod to Jeonghan as he also stood up. “Well, I’m going to grab coffee, anyone want anything?”

Jihoon called out, “A coke, please,” before his deep voice grumbled at the students to go write their notes. Seungkwan and Chan immediately turned to their own computers to avoid Jihoon’s indifferent stare, while Seungcheol rolled his eyes and complimented them on their presentations.

In the call room, you heard a light knock before a series of electronic beeps on the door’s keypad. The handle turned softly and you turned your head to see Jeonghan’s silhouette bathed by the fluorescent lights of the hallway. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him, the room again falling back into the darkness.

You kept your face in your hands as you hastily tried to wipe away your tears. The mattress dipped beside you as Jeonghan sat down, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice uneven. You tried to take a breath, but you ended up shuddering instead. “This is so embarrassing. This has happened to me so many times, but I still don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I can’t get over it—”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Jeonghan interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what people always say, that you’ll get used to it, but I don’t think it’s something that you should get used to. I’ve only worked with you for a week but you’re so smart, and kind, and your patients love you. Even the med students like you, they’re always clamoring over themselves to impress you.”

You let out a chuckle at the memory of Seungkwan and Chan both trying to get you to review their notes as Jeonghan sat in his corner, pretend-glaring at Chan.

“Can I hug you?” Jeonghan asked, and you nodded. You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders as he pulled you against him, hands rubbing circles on your back. You could hear the steady beating of his heart and the faint smell of his cologne, and it surprised you how comfortable you felt wrapped in the warmth of his body.

“Thank you, Hannie,” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his waist to give a quick squeeze before pulling back.

“Hannie?” he asked, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

“Oh, sorry, Joshua always calls you that—”

“No, I like it when you call me that,” he mumbled, his eyes lighting up despite the darkness of the room. “It totally beats the ‘Yoon Jeonghan (Intern)’ that you have me saved as in your phone.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed, pushing him lightly before getting up. “As if you don’t have me saved as the same thing.”

“No, you’re ‘Pretty Crybaby’ with a bottle emoji next to it.”

You stared at him, horrified, and hit his shoulder. “You have to change it!”

“Only if you change me to ‘Hannie”, he grinned, his pinky outstretched. You rolled your eyes and linked your pinky with his.

That night, you dreamed of the deep, open sea, but rays of light broke through the water like slender fingers guiding you towards the surface.

---

“I’ve missed you,” Jeonghan pouted, handing you a can of coffee from the refrigerator. You finished gathering your hair up into the messiest of ponytails and grabbed the can, smiling reflexively when your fingertips lingered on his. You stood in front of him in old scrubs and sneakers, devoid of makeup and tired, and you marveled at how he could still flirt with you.

“You won’t be saying that after our 24-hour shift together this weekend,” you pointed out.

“It’ll be like a sleepover, I’m so excited,” he deadpanned, and you both laughed at his tone of voice. “But really, handling the kids on my own is so tiresome.”

“You basically adopted Chan on the third day.”

“Okay, handling Seungkwan on my own is so tiresome.”

The two students bounded through the door of the lounge, as if on cue. They left their backpacks in the corner and beamed at you as you handed them printed lists. 

“Time for sign-out, Dr. Boo, Dr. Lee,” you grinned, ruffling Seungkwan and Chan’s hair. “Pay attention, Dr. Yoon,” you giggled, ducking down to avoid Jeonghan’s hand aimed at your head.

---

kwan [3:10 PM]: when will they let us leave?? I need to study kwan [3:12 PM]: and it’s so boring with only jeonghan to bother kwan [3:12 PM]: he just leans back in his chair like this is his house kwan [3:13 PM]: and I’m still offended by what he said about me being tiresome

chan [3:15 PM]: I’m literally right next to you? chan [3:15 PM]: We can always pull the ‘Is there anything else I can help with before I go” card chan [3:16 PM]: more importantly, did you also hear about them having a 24 hour shift together? chan [3:16 PM]: I ship it

kwan [3:17 PM]: omg I know I wonder if there are any workplace rules or w/e kwan [3:18 PM]: but then again jeonghan has already been v flirty kwan [3:18 PM]: maybe I’ll put that in his evaluation. “I admire his ability to shoot his shots”

chan [3:20 PM]: #rolemodel #inspo

---

The weekend came, and with it, the rain. Water pelted against glass windows in sheets as the low rumble of thunder echoed throughout the city. You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress with your laptop balanced on your knees, the rest of your belongings shoved in the corner where the bed met the wall. You heard the familiar beeping of the keypad, and like a week prior, Jeonghan stood in the doorway.

He gave you a quick “hi” before collapsing onto the other bed across from you, folding his arms across his stomach.

“Rough night?” you asked sympathetically, rummaging around in your bag for a snack to share.

“I don’t know what it is about the rain that makes everyone in this hospital so crazy,” you heard Jeonghan mutter under his breath. He rolled onto his side to face you and you placed a small box of banana milk next to him. He took it gratefully and poked the straw through the top, letting out a contented sigh.

“Let’s get some rest before they wake us up about that guy in room 5102 not peeing again,” you said, placing your laptop to the side and getting up to turn off the light. You heard an incoherent mumble in response. Shaking your head, you smiled and felt for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed, covering it carefully over Jeonghan’s form and moving the box of milk to the nightstand. Before you could turn back to your own bed, you felt a hand in yours and a brush of lips across your knuckles.

It was whisper, almost lost against the hum of the air conditioning. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

This time, you dream of floating, your body weightless as you stared up at the blue sky above you.

---

It’s almost the end of your month with Jeonghan when it finally hits you.

“Joshua, I’m screwed,” you groan, your hand dropping your fork back into your salad bowl. Joshua scoffs across from you, taking a bite of his pasta and swallowing before waving his own fork in your direction.

“What are you talking about? You’ve been doing super well on the team, from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s who you’ve heard this stuff from that’s the problem, Joshua,” you sigh. “I’m too old to have crushes.”

Joshua gasped dramatically, and snickered when you shot a glare at him across the table. “Sometimes, you’re really dense. You’re literally all that Hannie talks about. Well, you and your med student, Chan.”

“But we only have one more week together, and then what?” you ask glumly, poking at the wilting leaves.

Joshua reached his hand to still your movements. “Hey, you’re talking like you’re never going to see him again after this block. We still make time for each other, and I’m sure you two can, if you want to.”

“But you guys are also technically psychiatry residents,” you stated, moving your hand from under Joshua’s grasp. “You’re not going to be around after this year.” You could feel the tightness behind your nose, the quickening beat of your heart, and the uncomfortable lurch in your stomach as reality soaked through you, dripping wet and cold.

You would be on a different team in a week.

Joshua and Jeonghan would be gone in a few months.

The crisp air that filled your greedy lungs would be replaced by the burn of seawater again and again, the tide a relentless onslaught every time your head broke through the surface. You had learned how to breathe again through hooded eyes and lazy smiles and faint cologne, through a shock of platinum blonde hair and a lilting voice.

But this time, you didn’t know how you would fare when you went under again.

“Why do you think that we won’t see each other anymore?” Joshua asked quietly. In the back of your mind, you knew that he was slipping into his psychiatry persona, trying to get you to talk about your worries and fears. And as much as you knew that it would feel better to talk about it, and as much as you trusted Joshua, you couldn’t explain it.

You couldn’t tell him that you ended up having no one in your third year of medical school, the friendly waves in the hallway turning to tense, unsaid competition between your classmates for good evaluations and honors.

You couldn’t tell him that with every team that you’ve been on during your intern year, you end up dispersing on the last day, going separate ways despite the physical and emotional investment spent caring for patients and for each other.

You couldn’t tell him that he was just a fluke, an anomaly in your track history of brief, intense connections that characterized your entire career thus far.

You couldn’t tell him that everyone always left.

And you had learned to survive with water in your lungs, but Jeonghan tasted like air, clean and proper and euphoric.

What you said, instead, was, “I’m scared.”

It was truth enough.

---

han [7:35 PM]: I’m so excited about tomorrow han [7:36 PM]: last day~ but maybe we can finally go on a proper date

shua [7:37 PM]: bro, you need to have an honest conversation with her shua [7:37 PM]: she thinks you’re just never going to speak again after tomorrow shua [7:38 PM]: well, she thinks we’re all not going to speak to her after our intern year ends because we’re in different programs, but that’s a whole other thing shua [7:39 PM]: there is a lot of catastrophizing

han [7:40 PM]: I’ll appreciate it if you didn’t psychoanalyze my future s/o han [7:41 PM]: I mean, you’re right, but still

shua [7:42 PM]: aren’t you getting ahead of yourself there buddy

han [7:45 PM]: no. I’ve been an absolute angel

shua [7:45 PM]: I already regret setting you up shua [7:46 PM]: what did my sweet crybaby do to deserve this

---

“Hannie?” you answered tentatively, brows furrowing in confusion when you saw your phone screen light up with his name.

“Uh, hey,” he laughed, the sound tinny and nasal. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Yeah, is something wrong?” you ask, your thoughts flashing to the conversation you had with Joshua several days ago. You could feel something akin to dread rise up in your chest, but you pushed it down.

“No, nothing bad. Do you live in the resident housing complex? I can come over.”

“Okay,” you sigh, giving him your apartment number. Twenty minutes later, you heard a knock on your door, and you let Jeonghan in.

“So,” the blonde started, settling himself on your sofa, “Joshua told me that you were…worried.”

“Joshua needs to stay out of my business,” you muttered under your breath. Jeonghan grinned and patted the space next to him, and when you sat down, his sweater-clad arm wrapped around you like it was a motion that he had perfected for years.

“I’m just going to come out and say it,” he said, his heart starting to quicken in his chest. “I was really excited about our last day together because I thought I could finally ask you out properly.”

Your eyes widen as you angled yourself towards him. “Oh, so you mean those moments in the call room weren’t dates?” you teased, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Ugh, you’re not making this any easier,” he whined, and you laughed before wrapping your hands around his wrists and gently pulling his hands away from his face. You smiled gently at him before averting your gaze, suddenly shy as your hands traveled down his wrists to rest in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Hannie,” your voice no more than a whisper. Your eyes were fixed resolutely to the floor as you spoke. “I’m just not used to people wanting to stick around, and I’m scared about what’ll happen in the future.”

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Of course I want to stick around. It’s weird, but I feel like I want to know everything about you. Like, I went into psychiatry because I was interested in how people became who they were, but these past few weeks, I just wanted to know how you became the person you are today. Someone who works hard, who feels with their entire being. Someone who I’ve grown really attracted to.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you wrapped your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his chest. “You can’t just say these things, Jeonghan,” you protested, feeling the rumble of laughter through his body.

“I can promise you that we’ll make it work. Even after tomorrow. Even after this year.”

You pulled away to look up into his brown eyes, at the curve of his nose, at his red lips pulled into a wide smile. You breathed out, “and you always keep your promises” before pulling him towards you, lips singing praises against his, wrapped up in a brown sweater and a gentle breeze whispering Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan.

---

my hannie [6:01 AM]: I’m on the shuttle to the inpatient psych center! you’re probably still asleep, sorry that I couldn’t get you breakfast :( my hannie [6:02 AM]: but just wanted to wish you luck on your first day as a !! second !! year!! can you believe it? i’m so proud of you, baby. everyone’s going to love you, but not as much as me~ my hannie [6:03 AM]: shua says good luck too! I’m going to try to take a nap, it is way too early my hannie [6:05 AM]: but also….Joshua or Jeonghan?

my baby [6:30 AM]: omg hannie of course you, you big dummy. I woke up sad bc the bed was empty and then panicked bc I forgot that I didn’t have to go to sign-out anymore my baby [6:31 AM]: good luck on your first day too! poor hannie, you have to get up so early my baby [6:32 AM]: I’ll grab takeout and then we can cuddle tonight and talk about our days?

my hannie [7:00 AM]: ah yes, my most natural state – lying down in your arms. sounds perfect my hannie [7:01 AM]: I love you so much, pretty baby

my baby [7:02 AM]: well I guess it’s an upgrade from ‘pretty crybaby’ my baby [7:02 AM]: love you too

[allthingswritings]

Trip Back Home

Peter was bored. He was in chemistry-his last class of the day-and was ignoring Mr. Harrington’s boring lecture over elements and how they bond together. He’d already learned about this the week prior with Bruce in the lab and to say he was an expert by now would be an understatement. Currently Peter was texting Tony under his desk about what they should have for dinner, Tony said pizza and Peter said lasagna, when he was pulled back to the reality of his class with a nudge at his side. It was Ned. “Dude?!?,” Peter hissed in a hushed tone, “what was the for?” “Mr. Harrington has and “important” announcement.” Ned replied in an equally hushed tone. “Class!” Mr. Harrington called for the students who had somehow managed to get rowdy in the time it took to him to pick up a stack of papers “I have some exciting news. We’re going on a field trip this Friday!” The teacher said. “Where are we going?” One of Peters classmate asked. “Well,” Mr. Harrington started, barely containing his excitement, “Were going to Stark Industries! Here’s your permission slips. ” He stated handing out the stack of papers he had previously picked up. The class erupted into excited whispers about what they hoped to see there. Peter however was neither happy nor excited about the destination of said trip. Peter galnced over at Ned who was smiling ear to ear about the thought of getting to be in the same building as Tony Stark but when he locked eyes with Peter his smile quickly faded understanding his best friends dilemma. Peter had been living in Stark Tower for a little over 4 months. About 4 1/2 months ago Aunt May had contracted a serious illness due to working in the hospital and died shortly after, leaving Peter with no family and no where to go. Mr. Stark then took Peter to go live with him in the tower and the avengers soon became his new family, so the thought of his class going anywhere near his home terrified Peter. With a headache forming Peter let his head rest on his cool desk. “Hey Parker!” Flash taunted from across the room, “you excited? Your lie is finally going to be exposed.” Just as Peter was about to snap at Flash Ned grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room given that the period was now over with a reminder to get the slip signed from Mr. Harrington. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous and you can prove him wrong on Friday.” “Thanks Ned.” Peter said grimly but accepted his friends encouragement. “So…what are you going to do? I mean it’s not going to go unnoticed around school if our class finds out you live at the tower with the avengers. I mean it’s awesome and all but that’s a little more than just interning and-“ Ned rambled on but stopped abruptly when he noticed Peters worried expression. “I don’t know Ned. I mean either I die from embarrassment or…” Peter thought for a second, “nope. That’s the only possible outcome of this trip.” Peter sighed as he gathers his belongings from his locker. Ned felt bad for his friend as they walked out of the front of the school and spotted Happy’s car waiting. Once they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways Peter walked to the car and came to the only reasonable he could think of. Friday was going to be the death of him.

———————-——————————————————————————————-

-Friday Morning- Peter walked into school that morning, the signed permission slip weighing heavy in his bag, and prepared to turn it in. In the days leading up to the trip Peter tried in vain to come up with an excuse as to why he couldn’t go on the trip, but when Peter thought of non he asked Pepper to sign his slip and practically begged her not to tell the others. To make matters worse Flash somehow managed to get his number and was constantly sending his messages like “your not even good enough for an internship at a gas station much less SI”, “Your a worthless liar Parker!”, and “your nothing to Tony Stark, he’s just using you to look good in the press”. Of course Peter didn’t tell anyone about Flash’s messages and due to Peter actually being a terrible liar he became very antsy whenever Mr. Stark would ask him about school which only fueled the engineers suspicions about Peter being bullied. So when Peter handed in his slip he accepted his fate and trudged up the steps of the old, musty, yellow bus that would take him back to his house. Since the trip was all day Peter hadn’t bothered with a backpack and only brought the necessary items. His phone and his earbuds. The second Peter slid into the open seat Ned had left for him he was bombarded by a string of questions from his friend but Peter ultimately decided not to answer any knowing his friend wouldn’t stop asking long enough for Peter to even get a word in. Just as Peter was about to put his earbuds in he heard a familiar taunt. “Yo Parker! Think you can get your old friend Tony Stark to get me an internship?” Flash called. At this point the entire bus had stopped what they were previously doing and took notice of the current situation. “What do you know Flash? You probably couldn’t even spell Tony Stark. “ MJ said from the seat across the isle of Peter and Ned. “Can too!” Flash retorted back “T-O-N-Y S-T-“ Just then the bus hit a large bump surprising Flash and causing him to stutter and fall from his seat and into the isle. “See,” MJ smirked, “After all Peter’s on the decalathon team and your only an alternate. A-L-T-E-R-N-A-T-E” MJ finished causing a deep blush to grace Flash’s checks making him duck his head in embarrassment. “Ok you too, that’s enough!” Mr. Harrington called from the front. Peter sighed and finished putting his earbuds in with a grateful nod twords MJ. Today was going to be a long day. _____________________________ As the bus pulled into the parking lot Peter heard his classmates conversations turn into excited whispers about the building in front of them. When they excited the bus his classmates looked and marveled at the 100 story tower that they now stood at the bottom of. Peter of course was the only one, besides MJ, who looked unimpressed given the he lived there. When the class of 20 walked in and saw who their tour guide was Peter instantly felt a little relief. It was one of the newer interns that didn’t know Peter that well named Emily. Peter and Emily had only talked a handful of times so she didn’t realize his position at the tower and how high up he really was and as far as Peter knew she thought he was a real intern. “Good Morning Midtown! My name is Emily and I’ll be your guide for today.” She said once the class was close enough. “Good Morning.” Mr. Harrington said back, “We are so excited to be here.” “Great” Emily smiled. “Let me just hand out these badges and go through security then we can start the tour.” Peter heard her say. ‘Crap’ he thought. See once Peter moved in, Mr. Stark had F.R.I.D.A.Y. start recognizing him by face so he didn’t have to always carry his badge and Peter gave Mr. Stark his badge back. ‘How am I going to explain not needing a badge to get around? I mean that’s going to raise a lot of eyebrows right?’ Peter thought. He didn’t even realize Emily was almost to him in the line until he heard her voice near him. By the time she was only two people away Peter started to nervously fidget with his hands coming to the realization the Emily Probaly hadn’t made him a badge assuming he had his own from his “internship”. As Emily handed a badge to the guy next to him Peter looked away expecting her to skip over him and go to the next person. “Oh Peter! Here’s your badge. Pepper said you left it in the lab yesterday.” She said handing him his old badge not acknowledging that it was noticeably different from the other interns badges. “T-thanks” Peter stutterd out, making a mental note to thank Pepper later for saving him from having to explain himself. When he looked around he was thankful no one noticed his different badge. Yet. “Class if you will follow me through security then we can begin.” Called out Emily _____________________________ Once everyone made it through security with only a few turned heads at F.R.I.D.A.Y recognizing Peter, Emily started to go over the tour and what they would see. “Ok students. We are splitting up the tour into parts. 25% in the morning then 75% after lunch. Since it’s nearly 10:00 thanks to the hour commute you guys experienced we will tour for about 2 hours, eat lunch, then finish the tour afterwards. So let’s begin!” Once they made it to the first stop of the tour, a floor set up a lot like a museum for the avengers and SI, that was he first time Flash saw his badge. “So Parker, how’d you manage to get that badge? I mean your too poor to pay someone to use theirs so what’d you do? Did you steal it?” He sneered. “No, I work here remember?” Peter stated as he tried to walk away but Flash grabbed his arm making him stop. “If you really work here then prove it and get me an internship too” “no” “why not Parker? Is it because it’s not real?” “Because I don’t have to” Just when it looked like Flash was ready to punch Peter he got hit in the face with a crumpled piece of paper. When both boys looked around they saw MJ drawing in her notebook trying to suppress a grin. “MJ, did you ju-“ “Ok class, time to move on!” Emily said, effectively cutting off Flash. When the class started to shuffle to the elevator flash turned back to Peter and pushed him to the ground. “This isn’t over Parker” was all he said as he walked back to the group but not before F.R.I.D.A.Y. caught it on video and sent it to the lab as the elevator door slid closed, taking them to their final destination before lunch. _____________________________ When the doors opened and the class stepped off Emily began to talk. “Class this is one of our many R&D labs. Right now we are just going to observe then after lunch we get to do an activity in one of the labs.” When the clsss stepped up the viewing glass they were in awe. All around the lab tech was being built, experiments were being conducted, and ideas were being formed. To the class it was amazing but to Peter it was boring him to death. ‘This is one of the most basic labs in the tower. If this is amazing to them then the rest of the tour will be jaw dropping.’ Peter thought. After a few minutes one of the scientists stepped outside and explained in depth about what the were doing and began to answer some questions. After about 30 minuets of questions Emily called for the last one. “Is it true that Parker is an intern here?” Flash asked in a smug voice clearly think he had won. Peter could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Peter? Yeah he’s an intern here. In fact he’s one of the best I’ve ever seen.” The scientist confessed as Peter reddened when he felt eyes land on him. Flash however scoffed with a mumbled with an “whatever” only Peter could hear. “Now class,” Emily called gaining everyone’s attention,”time for lunch.” And with that they were back into the elevator on their way to the cafeteria. _____________________________ -Mr. Stark’s personal lab- F.R.I.D.A.Y. had to wait until Mr. Stark got out of a meeting got show him the footage she had captured. The second he got into the lab F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed him the clip and explained what happend. The second she was done Tony stormed out of the lab and into the common room where the rest of the avengers were. “We have a problem.” Tony said and the Avengers look up at him in alert. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. show them.” Before the video even had a chance to finish the team was already walking in the elevator and Tony told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take them to the class. They were mad. Scratch the they were pissed and rightfully so and they’d be damned if they let this kid “Flash” as F.R.I.D.A.Y. had called him, lay another hand on Peter. Peter was their family, their kid, and they would do whatever it would take to protect him. They just didn’t realize how bad it had gotten between Peter and Flash.

———————————————————————————————————-

— Flashback — It was after school and all the halls had cleared. Peter was standing at his locker and was about to close the door when someone did it for him. “What do you want Flash?” Asked Peter slightly annoyed. He had a long day and the only thing he wanted right now was to go home and sleep. But when does Peter ever get what he wants? “What’s up Puny? I just wanted to have a little chat with ya. Look we all know you’re lying about your internship so just come clean ok?” “I’m not lying Flash. Just accept it.” Peter retorted back At this Flash pushed Peter back into the locker “Shut up! You think your entitled and can lie just because you don’t have a mommy or daddy anymore? Huh? Well you aren’t so just keep your mouth shut.” And with that Flash threw Peter down the stairs and stormed off leaving Peter littered with bruises that he told Tony were from patrol. ———————— “Ok class, let’s pack up our lunches and throw our trash away and head back up” Emily said in her usual cheery voice. “Yes Ma’am” came the monotonous responds from the class. Once they were all pulled into the elevator, and on the way to a higher level lab than before, Emily began to speak. “So I know you guys are all probably bored of hearing rules but it is a mandatory procedure for all tour guides so, while we’re are in the lab you must wear goggles and an apron at all times for safety, there will also be no: filming, touching experiments, rough housing, blah blah blah” Peter just tuned her out knowing half of the rules didn’t even exist, it may be a higher lab than before but it was still a pretty basic one, Emily was just adding these because they were high schoolers. When they arrived at the lab, Emily told the class she would scan her badge first then the others could scan theirs and go in. As Emily was attempting to scan her badge to get in she found it wasn’t working. “Crap,” she muttered “Alright class my badge isn’t working right now so I’m going to call an IT guy to come up and try to get it to work so just hang on a min.” “Can’t you override it?” Ned leaned over and whispered. “Well yeah I can, but to them I’m just an intern so I shouldn’t be able to” “Oh ok” “Say Peter,” Flash piped up, “Can’t you use your badge? Ya know since you work here and all?” He said with devilish glint in his eyes “Yeah Peter, use your badge.” Said a familiar voice. A very familiar voice. When Peter looked up he saw none other than the billionaire whose been raising him for the past few months. Tony Stark. He had his hand clasped over Flash’s shoulder, who was looking very full of himself, “I’m willing to bet money his badge won't work anyways. I doubt he even works here.” Flash said to Tony, his smirk never faltering. “I guess we’ll just have to see.” Tony said with a smirk of his own but Peter could tell it had a different meaning from the one Flash wore. “O-O-Ok sure th- sure thing M-M-Mr. St-t-ark” Peter stuttered out while silently curing both Flash and Tony. He walked up and swiped his card, “Override Protocol?” Said an automated voice that didn’t belong to F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Yes, Override protocol.” Peter responded back a little shaky and very aware of the eyes that lingered on him when the door opened with a ‘woosh’. Flash, who was still next to Mr. Stark, stared wide-eyed as said billionaire let go and walked toward the the door.” Alright then class,” Mr. Stark said waving his hand in a motion letting Emily know she could leave and he would be taking over the tour. “Let’s head in.”< When Emma started to leave she looked back at Peter and they shared a fearful look. Peter gulped, scared about was coming. Once inside Peter chanced a look around the room and to his surprise everything looked normal. Or so he thought “Alright class please find a seat. One of my friends is going to pass out a test. It’s an IQ test to see if there any potential employees in here.” Everyone perked up and started to look around excitedly, everyone except for Peter. “You’ll have 20 minutes to complete the test then after we will start the real fun. “I've got this in the bag. After they see my score there’s no way they could deny me an internship.” Peter heard Flash say smugly to his friends. Apparently Tony heard it too because he responded “‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that Eugene.” Mr. Stark said with a glare but quickly flashed his million dollar smile. Just then none other than Captain America walked in holding a stack of papers. “Thanks Cap, they each get one.” Tony said as Steve passed them out. “Begin.” And with that the only sound in the lab was the sound pencil on paper. When Peter looked down at his paper he had to physically keep himself from face palming. The test was only 5 questions but those 5 questions were all advanced chemistry. A.K.A things these high schoolers couldn’t even hope to understand. Of course Peter understood it, in fact he could do all this in his head but that’s because he’s Peter. Peter who has worked alongside and even challenged the minds of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Peter looked back up and glared at Mr. Stark who just gave him a silent “what?” With a as Peter just glared harder and shook his head trying to hide the smile he had at his mentors antics. When he looked around at his classmates he saw worry and panic on all of their faces. He just laughed silently to himself and looked back up at Mr. Stark who was also silently laughing. They locked eyes and Mr. Stark winked at Peter much to his confusion but Peter didn’t have time to question it because just then the timer went off. Peter looked at his paper and quickly jotted down the answers without any work “Ok class” Tony started, “pass your papers to the front. While those are being graded we are gonna work on a little project for two of our avengers. *whistles* Widow, Legolas!” The two master assassins walked in and the whole room quieted. The class looked at them in awe but didn’t dare to look them in the eye, everyone except Peter, once again. He sent a small wave in their direction to which they discreetly returned. “Dang, I was expecting a standing ovation, you guys are lame.” Barton joked which earned him a jab at his side from Natasha. “Zip it bird brain you’re here for looks.” Tony quipped back jokingly and started laughing when Barton stuck his tongue out at the mentor. “So we will divide into 2 groups and one will work on designs for new widow bites and the other will work on designs for Hawkeye’s arrows. Whichever group has the best idea wins!” While the two groups worked the 4 avengers stood off to the side looking pretty proud of themselves, like they just created a million dollar question and were the only ones who knew the answer. ————————————- “Alright stop” Mr. Stark said and both groups presented their design ideas. The group Flash was in was tasked with the arrow design and although they had 45 minutes to come up with one simple design, Flash had shot down every idea the group came up with saying they were useless. Needless to say they had nothing to show for their ideas, and Flash was to blame. Peters group actually had a good idea that impressed both Mr. Stark and Natasha with their design. Mr. Stark deemed them the “winners” and promised to build their design to see if it would’ve worked as Natasha agreed to test it out. “Now that that’s over we have graded your tests and have the results back.” As Mr. Stark read through the results Peter was at the back of the group trying to shrink into the floor, already knowing what was coming. Flash wouldn’t get the IQ level he would want and combined with losing the competition would probably lash out and Peter would be who he turned to to blame. ‘Great’ Peter thought, ‘in front of my family too’ “Eugene Thompson” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “103” “I knew it! I’m the best! Take that Parker! I’ll come see you after the tour so we can discuss my future here.” Flash called out smugly. “Hold up now son.” Cap said “For starters we don’t accept behavior like that here.” “Nor do we accept egotistical brats.” Natasha chimed in. “Not to mention the fact that we don’t even consider accepting someone with that low of an IQ.” Said Tony “And most we certainly don’t accept bullies here” said Bucky as he walked into the room, metal arm gleaming, with Wanda hot on his heels, hands already glowing red. If looks could kill, Flash would be dead a thousand times over based from the glares he was getting from the avengers, and Pepper wasn’t even in the room...yet. “B-B-But how? Peter works here and there is no way Puny Parker over there is smarter than me.” Flash said, obviously not knowing when to quit. “What did you just call him?” Said Pepper who seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere and looking mad enough for all the avengers combined. “Let me educate you Eugene since you clearly can't do it for yourself. Peter, my son, has an IQ of over 141. He already has a full paid scholarship to MIT, works right beside some of the greatest minds in the world, and he still has time to give back to the community with a charity he created for the homeless. So I’m sorry you’ve been miss lead here but we don’t ever want someone like you working here. Leave.” By the time Pepper finished her jaw was locked and she was seething through gritted teeth. Flash who looked like he was about to wet himself ran to the door but to his horror it was being held closed by Wanda. “Don’t you have something to say to Peter?” She asked. “I’m s-so sor-sorry. I didn’t know. I-I’ll never b-b-bother you again.” Flash said red-faced and looking like he was close to tears. With his apology said Wanda opened the door and Flash ran off. Pepper turned to Mr. Harrington, who had remained quiet throughout the whole ordeal, “The tour is over, so please guide your class out and if I find out you let another kid get bullied in your class ever again, I will personally pay your boss a visit and see to it that your teaching license is suspended.” “Also Peter is staying with us.” Said Barton from beside Natasha. At that the class, who still look shocked at what just went down, scurried out the door and into the elevator. All that were left were Peter, Pepper, Tony, and the other avengers. Pepper took a calming breath and turned to face the group, “How about some ice cream and a movie?” A chorus of “sure” and “sounds good to me” filled the room as they too left the lab. —————————— Monday When school rolled around the next Monday Peter was a little nervous about what would happen. What would people say? What would they think? However he didn’t have time to worry about it as he arrived at his locker and waited for Ned and MJ. After he got his books and closed his locker he locked eyes with Flash from across the hall. Peter instinctively cowered away but it was Flash who broke the eye contact and scurried down the hall and away from Peter as fast as his legs would carry him. Flash’s group of friends looked up and started walking toward where he ran off. As they passed Peter he braced himself for a shove or snarky comment from the group but all he got was a “sup Parker” from some of the guys. Maybe, just maybe, the field trip wasn’t so bad after all.

[spiderfoool]

The Beginning of the End

(from writing.prompt.s on instagram: When you turn 18, you have to choose a life goal. When you complete that goal, your life ends, but until you complete that goal you can’t die.)

AO3 LINK

Save the world and get married to Bucky Save the world and get married to Steve

They had picked it as a joke, really. Steve had always been standing up for those who couldn’t, but it wasn’t like he anticipated that he would ever save the world. At least not single-handed.

Also, it was 1935 and queers were most certainly not allowed to get married.

But that was the point wasn’t it? Again, Steve had always been standing up for others, so why not stand up for himself. He and Bucky had always known that what they had was different, even if they didn’t always know what to call it. They were always together, whether it be Bucky sitting next to Steve’s bed while he was battling whatever infirmity he had at the time or Steve helping to take care of Bucky’s oh so many siblings. It only made sense that that was how it’d all end.

Steve was convinced they were gonna die in 1939. The war was beginning to favor the Allies, the world would be saved, and Steve and Bucky definitely had at least a small part in that. That and the missions they were tasked with were just that risky. The beginning of the end.

Realistically, Steve knew they couldn’t die until they got married but at this point what was the difference? Marriage in the US was but a piece of paper; and they didn’t need anybody else’s fucked up opinion of them to make a lifelong vow to each other anyways. Regardless, the war pushed on. After Bucky fell off that cliff, Steve was sure he was gonna live out the rest of eternity in sorrow. When he crashed the plane, he hoped that it was finally over; that he could finally see Bucky again and just let go.

But nothing was ever that simple.

Steve didn’t think there was a time in which he was more depressed than when he came out of the ice, which was understandable to say the least. Nobody really found it fun to be consistently lied to and forced back into waging wars, but Steve was always willing to do what needed to be done.

That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it though.

When the whispers about a ghost assassin found their way into Steve’s life, he was borderline apathetic about it. He had seen aliens and gods and men with helpful voices in their ceilings and at that point, it was hard to shock Steve anymore, contrary to popular belief. He was raised in an era in which the refrigerator was revolutionary, yes, but when you live to see your country just start to universalize electricity and join an international war involving nuclear weapons all in the same decade, it's hard to be shocked by something as unimportant to Steve as a woman wearing pants on television.

When the assassin attacked Steve on the highway, he fought hard like he always did. It didn’t matter how little Steve really cared about living out the rest of his life, there were lives at stake, and Steve would rather be skinned alive than be the reason why lives were needlessly lost. So Steve relied on the one thing he always knew how to do: he fought.

When he pulled the man’s mask off, Steve shut down. Never in his entire life had Steve shut down; he always knew a way out, always had some sort of plan to pull himself out of whatever shit he’d gotten into that time. But not then. Bucky had once again consumed his entire presence, taken over every waking thought. Bucky, his Bucky, had fought him nearly to the death. Shot up a highway. Blew up cars. Terrorized an entire city. And didn’t even know his own name.

When he brought down S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Helicarriers, Steve didn’t care if he died. That was nothing new. But he brought passively suicidal attitudes to a new level. He had thrown down his shield in battle before, but never when his opponent could actually match him. Never with so many other lives at stake. It was reckless, dangerous, beyond life threatening. But he didn’t care. He needed Bucky to know he’d always be there. ‘Till the end of the line. And for once, things didn’t go completely to shit.

When Steve came to consciousness in the hospital, he didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. He eventually settled on relieved that Bucky was alive somewhere and didn’t kill him. But he did keep the anger of betrayal and being made into a fool buried deep inside him. Deep enough inside that it wouldn’t jump out when he was on active duty or in stupid meetings with the US Army. But not deep enough that it wouldn’t jeopardize one of the only true friendships he’d had in 70 years.

He knew Bucky wasn’t to blame for the attack in Germany, the man wasn’t even in Germany at the time of the attack. But he did know that he had to protect him, give him a heads up at the very least. That, of course, went to shit.

He wasn’t expecting his friendship with Tony to be intact at all when this shit was over with. He knew he shouldn't have lied. He knew he should’ve just sat and talked through the Accords at the very least, but his self control always seemed to just fly out the window wherever Bucky was concerned these days. Sam wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, especially about the stunt he pulled on the Helicarriers. But he would be goddamned if he’d let the government fuck him sideways again. Especially not when Bucky was involved.

When the Wakandans welcomed Steve and Bucky with open arms, he felt some of the most relief he’s ever felt. After all the stunts he’d pulled in the past few weeks, Steve was pretty sure the entire world was ready to turn him in. But not T’Challa and Shuri. And he would forever be grateful.

He stopped by sometimes, whenever he could. Talk to Bucky if he could, sit by his bedside whenever he couldn’t. Bucky was getting better. After a while the trigger words stopped working entirely. No meaning left over in his mind. And Steve thought it might be the beginning of the end. Get married to Bucky. They were so close.

They actually did get married. It turned out Wakanda didn’t have strict rules on marriage like all the smaller European countries Steve had been hiding out in. They had a small ceremony at a courthouse, dinner with T’Challa, Shuri, Ramonda, and the few Rogue Avengers. It was nice, it was quiet, it was everything they’d ever wanted it to be. The beginning of the end.

But Steve never expected to be fighting again so soon. And he definitely didn’t expect to lose Bucky again. When the other man turned to dust, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to be helpful. The memory would be forever etched into the back of his mind, him sitting in the dirt, the horrified looks on his teammates faces, those that were left.

The years after Thanos were absolutely desolate and Steve was pretty sure he was dissociated half the time. Truthfully all he did was live in agony, his love now gone, his friends gone, half the world gone. Never had Steve lived in such a time that he felt so empty. It was suffocating.

For the first time ever Steve started going to therapy. Natasha of all people had pushed him hard to even consider going, and after months and months of misery, he caved. The first few weeks were rough to say the least. Steve had never been in the habit of expressing his feelings truthfully if expressing them at all and it didn’t get any easier since he had made it into the 21st century. But that’s what it’s there for he could hear Natasha’s annoyed tone in his head on repeat any time he even thought about quitting simply because of embarrassment. And he did think about it. His idea of “healthy” didn’t exactly include dwelling on the trauma of the past seven decades, Natasha. Nonetheless, he went. If not for the lack of want to hear Natasha’s nagging about his health.

When the so-called Captain Marvel set foot on the Compound, Steve just about lost his mind. Where had she been all this time? Nobody had a clue. But if her glowing hands and obvious intelligence meant anything, they were gonna win this time. And it was just like before; the beginning of the end. The plan was to rewind time. Put precautions in place so that it couldn't happen again. It was apparently part of some magician’s plan, as Tony so eloquently put it once he found his way back from wherever the hell he had managed to get stranded.

So they did it. They wound back time. They did everything over again. And Thanos was dead. It was over.

The first time Steve saw Bucky after everything, he broke down completely. Bawling, nose running, wailing, a complete shock to any poor bystander close enough to witness one of the strongest men on Earth cry like a baby. But he couldn’t help it. He could feel it coming on, slowly but surely. He knew Bucky could feel it too. Oh but how time tended to wear so thin when one wants it most.

They tried to say their goodbyes to the team as gently as possible. They knew they’d be missed. But it truly was the end. They never told anyone their Life Goals. Just that it was their time.

Tony arranged the funeral personally, made sure everything was the best it could possibly be. Steve and Bucky were placed in the same casket, their hands interlocked. Together as one, as they always dreamed of being. The service was beautiful, Sam delivering the eulogy. Tony, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, and Thor being pallbearers. Nobody left with dry eyes.

It was strange how they were both so dearly missed, yet not quite yearned for. Everyone knew they had lived enough, more than they wanted to really. But the feeling of emptiness after their deaths still carried on. Their legacies already speaking a thousand words. But everyone understood; understood that it was the end for them. And the ending they had was just what they wanted.

It didn’t make it hurt any less.

It wasn’t until months later that Tony found the crinkled up notebook page. Sorting through Steve and Bucky’s personal items, deciding what to display, what to donate, what to throw out. All he could do was smile at the mismatched handwriting on the page.

Save the world and get married to Bucky Save the world and get married to Steve

And that, they did.

[whoareurl]

Causing Chaos in Pyjamas (8/9)

(final update for today but now it’s up to date with the forum version sorry for flooding ur dash love me)

-

Not-Q was a fast draw but Bond was faster. No sooner had Not-Q pointed his gun at M’s chest than Bond was between them with his gun staring right at Not-Q’s forehead. He could hear Q’s ragged breaths from behind him and was very aware that there the henchmen’s guns were trained on him. Good - better him than the higher ups.

M and Q were both MI6 heads and far more important than a dispensable double-oh could ever be. This was what he’d been trained to do; to be the shield when he couldn’t be the bullet.

“You can order your men to shoot me,” Bond began, steadfastly ignoring Q’s pained gasp from behind him and M’s eyes burning into his back. “But I guarantee I’m fast enough to kill you on my way out.”

Not-Q seemed to consider this and, after a moment’s hesitation, lowered his gun to his side. The other guns, however, continued to stare Bond down. Bond didn’t move.

“Good call,” he said darkly.

“Stand down, 007,” said Not-Q calmly and Bond felt his blood boil.

“Not bloody likely,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Not-Q raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Technically, I am your superior.”

Bond scowled. “You’re a traitor.”

“I’m the Quaterma-”

“You’re not,” Bond spat before quickly reining himself in. For someone well-trained to bury emotions, he was struggling to prevent his anger at hearing anyone else try to claim Q’s title from bubbling abruptly to the surface.

Unfortunately for Bond’s temper, Not-Q seemed to pick up on this. “Protective of your pet genius, aren’t we?” He smirked, looking past Bond to Q. Bond had to resist the urge to turn around, to let Q know somehow that he’d be damned if he was going to let anything happen to him.

Somehow, now knowing how Q’s body felt when it was draped tiredly against his, Bond found it difficult to remember that he was in fact a highly trained MI6 operative with undoubtedly excellent marksmanship. Today, he had seen a much more vulnerable side of his Quartermaster and, well, Bond had always enjoyed feeling useful.

“Tell you what,” Not-Q went on, looking down at his gun and, despite all his training telling him not to take his eyes off his mark, Bond couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

And that small lapse in judgement was all it took. When he looked up again, Hired Muscle #1 had his gun trained directly at Q. Bond’s blood ran cold.

“Lower your gun and I won’t shoot your little mouse.”

Bond felt his control of the situation quickly slipping through his fingers. He’d very much preferred it when all the guns had been pointed at him.

“007, don’t you dare,” Q croaked out, voice a pitiful imitation of his usual clipped professionalism.

“I won’t wait all day, agent,” Not-Q said and his voice turned to steel while fire flashed in his dark eyes. “You have five seconds to lower your weapon.”

“007, that’s an order!” Snapped Q hoarsely.

“Four.”

Bond took a deep breath and analysed his options. He could shoot Not-Q right now but those bodyguards were likely as trigger-happy as he was. He’d barely have squeezed the trigger and they’d shoot Q. Out of the question.

“Three.”

“Shoot him, damn it!” Q’s voice was giving out on him. Bond could hear the telltale whisper of another one of those awful coughs on the horizon.

Bond was quick on his feet - two steps to the right and he’d be directly in front of Q. He could make it. In the confusion, M might be able to grab his gun and shoot someone. Maybe Q could grab Bond’s gun and-

“Two.”

There’s no way they’d survive. It was a lost cause. There was only one thing to do.

“One.”

Bond lowered his gun. Q swore.

“Good boy,” Not-Q cooed, making Bond’s upper lip curl. “Now, drop it.”

His tone resembled one used to speak to a dog but Bond didn’t rise to the bait. Slowly, he let the gun slip out of his hands and clatter to the floor, making sure to click the safety back in place first. He cursed internally (Q cursed externally again). He should have been able to figure out another way.

Bond took a step back as Q practically doubled over against his knees, coughing up a storm. Bond never took his eyes off the gun trained on his Quartermaster.

“Your turn,” he bit out.

Following a nod from Not-Q, both bodyguards lowered their guns. Bond dropped down to Q’s side and one hand automatically found his back, rubbing rhythmic circles as Q hacked up his lungs.

“Now, isn’t this better,” Not-Q said with a smile. “Space for a civil conversation.”

Q spat and raised his head, glaring up at his counterpart with anger blazing in his gaze. “I would point out that you’re the one who pulled a gun in the first place.”

Bond wished, just this once, that Q would hold his tongue.

Not-Q smirked at Bond, nodding his head towards Q as he said, “He’s got a quick tongue. I can see why you like him.”

Bond didn’t miss the innuendo but nor did he let his somewhat embarrassed response show on his face. Q, apparently having heard Bond’s silent wish, said nothing. Or perhaps it was because he was too busy panting, leaning heavily to one side in his seat and apparently fighting just to keep himself conscious. His glassy eyes blinked rapidly behind his glasses and for a moment Bond was afraid that Q would faint and, consequently, that his sudden movement might trigger gunfire he had no hope of stopping.

But Q caught Bond’s eye and the strained smile he sent in Bond’s direction was at least somewhat reassuring.

Don’t break down yet, he heard himself saying in his head; the same words he’d said to Q earlier. His brain was speeding through possible next moves faster than he could even contemplate them but he hadn’t yet managed to settle on anything concrete.

“What, precisely, are you hoping to achieve by keeping us trapped here, Mr Driver?” asked M’s voice from behind Bond. “Surely you must be aware of our extensive security. Killing us here would be a death sentence for you.”

Bond had to hand it to Mallory; he wasn’t her, but he was a damn good M.

Not-Q (Bond pointedly refused to call him anything else) simply smiled. “You’re quite the fool, Mallory, if you truly believe me to be the same Marcus Driver who gained Olivia Mansfield’s trust. Or do you really think so little of your predecessor that you imagine she’d be fooled into trusting a traitor?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” M retorted harshly.

Bond scowled. Alec’s - Trevelyan's, his brain corrected him - betrayal had cut deep for M almost as much as it had Bond. They’d trained together, drank together, laughed together, entertained the thought of sleeping together; he pushed down the spark of anger that flared up against Mallory.

Q’s body suddenly convulsed in on itself as he stifled a sneeze, apparently putting all his energy into keeping quiet. Bond saw Hired Muscle #1’s gun twitch in his hand at the movement and felt a leap of anxiety in his throat but he pushed it down.

Later, he reprimanded himself.

“Mr Driver,” M continued patiently. “Is there really any need to have those two guarding the door like that? I hardly think any of us are planning to make a run for it.”

Not-Q smiled indulgently. “Perhaps not but I wouldn’t want anyone interrupting our time together.”

Bond raised an eyebrow. What the hell was Mallory doing?

“What do you want from MI6, Mr Driver?” M asked calmly. “It must be something quite important if you’re willing to kill all three of us.”

Not-Q’s smile widened. “I already have what I want.”

Bond caught Q’s almighty eye-roll out of the corner of his eye and felt his lips twitch in amusement. In the field, he’d often heard Q’s snarky commentary in his ear on the inexplicable tendency of targets to play mind games with his agents.

Yeah, whatever, Doctor Doom, get to the point, said Q’s voice in his head and Bond disguised an amused huff as a cough. Not-Q looked at him sharply.

“Something amusing, agent?”

Bond smirked. “Oh, no. Just marvelling at your complete lack of finesse.”

A vein in Not-Q’s temple began pulsing and Bond could see his anger in the set of his jaw. He tried to imagine what Q would say in his ear right now. Probably something exasperated. Q’s tone was frequently exasperated when it came to Bond.

A movement by the desk had one of the guards aiming his gun at Mallory who put his hands up, knees bent comically as though he was in the middle of standing up. The other guard, apparently spooked by this, had his gun trained on Q again.

“Just taking a seat,” Mallory said, sitting down slowly and putting his hands flat on the desk in front of him. Bond was starting to get quite sick of having guns pointed at everybody but him. “You don’t mind do you?”

Not-Q frowned but said nothing. Slowly, the guards lowered their guns once more and Bond breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“After all, both my agents are seated. I was starting to feel left out. I’d join them by the filing cabinet but I think I’d rather be at my desk.”

For the first time since he’d surrendered his weapon, Bond felt a surge of hope that they might get out of there alive. From where he was, he couldn’t see any indication that M’s intercom was active but if he were a betting man - and he was - he’d put everything he had on that being the case. M was broadcasting the layout of the room and the people in it straight to Eve Moneypenny’s earpiece.

Bond glanced at his watch, being careful to move only his eyes. By his estimate, it had been about three minutes since they’d been interrupted and Bond was sure M had activated the intercom as soon as the situation turned sour. Eve should have assembled a team in about-

The door flew open with a bang followed by a flurry of gunfire and Bond moved to yank Q down to the ground but found himself unexpectedly stopped in his tracks and he jolted backwards and overbalanced.

Blood blossomed across the shoulder of Bond’s shirt and he barely had time to grunt in pain before all three of the traitors were on the ground. The two hired muscles were dead, bleeding out all over Mallory’s carpet. But Not-Q had been shot in the back of his knees and was hissing in pain in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Bond glanced up at Eve who was lowering her gun and grimaced. “I hope you’re not planning to make a habit of shooting me,” he grumbled, pressing his hand into his bleeding shoulder.

Eve pulled off her light-brown jacket and balled it up, pressing it to Bond’s shoulder to stem the bleeding. “I’m sure you’ll do something to deserve it,” she muttered as she pushed harder, making Bond grunt again.

“Once is bad luck. Twice is just careless,” he sniped.

“Well, one in each shoulder. Should balance you out,” Eve quipped back, glancing over her shoulder at where Q was starting to stand on shaky legs. “Q, so help me god, if you don’t get your arse back in that seat I’ll shoot you too.”

Q had the good sense not to doubt her and collapsed back into his chair, looking more like a ragdoll than a man.

“How do you still have a licence to carry that thing?” Bond grouched, repositioning himself so his back was leaning against the filing cabinet and taking over applying pressure to his wound. The pain was thudding through his entire body but he suspected the residual adrenaline was doing something to keep him sensible.

“Medical are on their way for both of you,” said M, looking between Bond and Q with an expression as close to concern as it ever seemed to get. “I’ll get your reports on this whole business tomorrow. I expect you’ll be spending the night.”

Bond had never in his entire career spent a night in Medical. He’d been cajoled into several hospital stays but never a prolonged stint in Vauxhall Cross’s medical wing. Q though. Bond shot his Quartermaster an anxious glance and saw him looking more pallid than ever. He shut his eyes, focusing on breathing. Fuck. This was almost definitely his least favourite part of this job. Getting shot, no matter how many times it happened, never hurt any less.

“One minute,” said M and Bond opened his eyes to find M’s gaze fixed on him. He must look really bad.

Something scraped over to Bond’s right and he turned, at the same time thinking that Not-Q had fallen awfully quiet. By the time Bond saw Not-Q’s hand deactivating the safety on his bodyguard’s discarded gun, it was too late to do anything. There was an almighty bang and Bond’s heart leapt into his mouth.

Q...

[thedeevirus]

Can you write Oswald’s thoughts after finding Ed and Lee bleeding out in the Narrows? I imagine him just rolling his eyes and telling his henchpeople to take ‘em back to the mansion.

Thanks for the ask! It’s slightly different than you requested but I hope you enjoy it :)

My contribution for @summerofgotham Week One: Roommates

Also added to Nygmobblepot Ficlet Collection on AO3

***

‘You’re the latest addition to Gotham’s prestigious ‘Resurrection Club’,Oswald commented, ‘It seems they’ll let anyone in these days’.

 Ed stirred slightly, the blankets feeling almost impossibly heavy on hissweat soaked frame. He gasped as a pain lanced up from the pit of his stomachmaking him instinctively curl in on himself. He blinked blearily, eyes wateringdespite the dim light of the room.

Despite his physical discomfort, the mattress beneath him felt soft and as he inchedupwards to see more of his surroundings, he realised he was wearing silk pyjamas.Beside his bed, Oswald was reclining in a large armchair, flicking though anewspaper. Ed squinted, trying to make out the date on the front page. Oswald,noticing Ed’s attempt, handed him his glasses as he folded the paper down.

 ‘Where-?’ Ed croaked.

‘My base. When? About a week ago’, Oswald recited, flicking up a fingerto count each question, ‘How? My informant found you lying in The Narrows. Why? Goodquestion considering what you pulled at that bank’.

Ed raised an eyebrow at Oswald’s annoyed tone.

‘That was nothing personal and you know it’, Ed said, swallowing hard totry and dispel the thirsty ache in his throat ‘Especially since you were goingto rob us’.

‘It was inconvenient and embarrassing’, Oswald corrected, ‘Still, nice tosee your sense of sarcasm survived intact’.

‘I suppose you want an apology?’ Ed asked, weighing up whether he shouldtry and sit up or not.

He knew why his stomach hurt: his photographic memory had meticulously recordedevery detail of he and Lee’s supposedly fatal interaction but dealing with theeffects was another matter entirely. Ed had never been good with physical discomfort.

‘I want you to admit you were wrong’, Oswald said.

‘You literally defied the laws of nature just so you could say ‘I toldyou so’?’

Oswald shrugged and Ed sighed, ‘Of course you did’.

‘And to show you how Lee would literally rather die than be with you. Iknow they talk about ‘not if you were the last guy on Earth’ but-‘

‘Where is she?’ Ed interjected.

‘Why do you ask?’ Oswald asked airily, eyes narrowing.

‘Is she alright?’ Ed asked, keeping his tone calm despite theambivalence he felt at even asking the question.

He wasn’t sure why he cared whether Lee was alright. She had tried to kill him!He had tried to kill her! He had failed so he should want her dead now. But…becauseshe had outwitted him and caught him by surprise technically she was the victorand was therefore untouchable. She beat him fair and square. No. That wasn’tright. She had cheated! Used his weaker half’s feelings for her and manipulatedhim but he had known that and let her do it and-Ed gasped as pain lanced through his head.Too many questions to deal with right now.

‘Jim Gordon will look after her I’m sure’, Oswald said unconcernedly, ‘She’snot our problem any more’.

Oswald’s use of the word ‘our’ caught Ed’s attention.

‘You saved both of us’, he said.

‘Technically Hugo Strange did’, Oswald said with a resentful grimace, ‘And not for cheap’.

‘Why both of us?’ Ed asked.

‘Delivering Lee to Blueboys’ HQ unharmed bought me seven sets of swatteam gear and an armoured van. She was literally more valuable to me alive’.

‘Blueboys?’

‘Quaint isn’t it?’ Oswald said patronisingly, ‘They’re the group formally knownas the GCPD. Do you disapprove?’

‘Of the GCPD’s new nom de guerre?’

‘No’, Oswald said pointedly, slightly irritated by Ed playing dumb, ‘Of bringing the good Doctor back?’

Ed considered for a moment. He pretended to pick at the patterned bedspreadbut was actually analysing Oswald’s expression out of the corner of his eye.

Oswald watched Ed carefully. As part of their agreement he had promised Jimhe would keep Ed away from Lee. The arrangement suited Oswald just fine. Thewoman’s relationship with Ed had been a disaster from start to finish. It had alwaysbaffled Oswald how Ed could be either a moth or a flame from one minute to thenext. He was his own worst enemy but Oswald’s best friend. So, if Ed decided togo chasing after Lee in the name of revenge, Oswald was honour bound to stophim. To save Ed from himself. Oswald just didn’t fancy saving him from aplethora of GCPD guns led by Lee’s ex-boyfriend with a grudge.

‘She got me fair and square’, Ed finally said, ‘It would be petty andchildish to hold it against her. Even if she used me, got what she wanted thenstabbed me in the stomach’.

Oswald laughed. Ed was about to retort when he began to cough, his fatigue and dehydrationfinal catching up with him.

‘Unprovoked?’ Oswald pressed, head titled, ‘Come on, I know you Ed. Leeprobably just beat you to the punch. Or nearest weapon in this case’.

He offered Ed a glass of water. Ed drank carefully but deeply, savouringthe refreshing cold liquid gliding down his throat.

‘Feeling more clear headed now?’ Oswald asked, taking the half emptyglass away when Ed had finished.

‘Actually, yes’, Ed said with some surprise.

He hadn’t felt such clarity since before Oswald had cryogenically frozen him:as a minor test he answered three riddles in his head, recited Pi to sevenplaces and named each bone in the upper half of the human body from the top ofhis skull down.

‘I took the liberty of asking Hugo Strange to ‘upgrade your hard drive’so to speak’, Oswald explained, ‘It’s my fault you’ve been making such bad choices since you were defrosted’.

‘You mean…I’m truly ‘me’ again?’ Ed asked, hardly daring to hope.

‘Cleared out the last of the cobwebs’, Oswald affirmed, ‘You’re operatingat maximum efficiency again’.

Ed’s smile soured as he remembered the previous results of Strange’s ‘upgrades’. The negatives usually far outweighed the benefits.

‘Is that the only…improvement I should expect?’ he asked, suddenlywishing for a reflective surface.

‘It’s the only one you needed’, Oswald said, patting the bed placatinglyas he picked up on Ed’s misgivings, ‘Removing that ‘lovesickness’ out of yoursystem was child’s play for him.  A littleattempted murder really helps you get over a nasty breakup doesn’t it?’

‘You should know’, Ed said sardonically.

Oswald’s brow furrowed at the jab and he folded his arms.

‘Funny how you didn’t seem to have any problem moving on from the previous loveof your life when Lee came along’.

 ‘And you seem to be having the opposite problem’.

 Oswald sputtered as he searched for a suitably witty rebuttal but haltedwhen Ed held up a hand.

‘Even after everything you still saved me’, Ed said seriously, ‘Thankyou’.

Oswald’s cheeks coloured and he waved a hand dismissively.

‘You would have done the same for me. Oh! That reminds me..’

Ed looked at Oswald quizzically as Oswald cleared his throat.

‘To be honest’, Oswald began in the same conversational tone as a stand-upcomedian, ‘I expected Lee to stab you in the back but give the woman credit, atleast she had the integrity to betray you to your face. I would say I dodged abullet in the past but you definitely didn’t dodge that kn-‘

‘This is why you woke me up isn’t it?’ Ed groaned, ‘Because I can’t fightback. How many of these do you have?’

‘Oh, I’ve been saving them up’, Oswald grinned, ‘Ever since I heardabout your little comedy act about me in the Narrows. Jerome was right about one thing: the secret truly is ‘timing’’.

Ed tried to sit up but fell back instantly with a cry of pain. He inhaleddeeply and slowly until the stabbing sensations in his stomach faded, He couldfeel a bandage around his middle rub against the soft fabric of his pyjamas.

‘You should have left the knife in’, Oswald observed, ‘Strange couldhave fixed you in half the time if he hadn’t needed to repair the internal organs’.

‘Thanks for the tip’, Ed grunted, sitting up slower this time with moresuccess.

‘I’m no forensic expert but I know a bit about stabbing people’, Oswald said, ‘Ifyou were aspiring to be Romeo and Juliet, I’m pretty sure they didn’t kill eachother’.

‘Speaking of killing each other’, Ed said, changing the subject beforeOswald could resume his routine, ‘You seem chipper for someone trapped in alawless hellhole. Judging from the architecture, we seem to be squatting inCity Hall which leads me to assume Jerome’s plan came to fruition’.

‘Correct’, Oswald said appraisingly as he looked up into the highceiling of the domed room they were in, ‘Except for one thing. I’m not trapped.It’s my natural environment’.

‘Quite the nest you’ve chosen’.

‘Cosy isn’t it? I’m already having a room prepared for you don’t worry’.

‘Where have you been sleeping if I’ve been in your bed?’

‘The couch’, Oswald said indicating a plush looking sofa in the cornerof the room with a pillow sitting neatly atop a folded blanket, ‘I figured itwas my turn’.

Ed realised Oswald was referring to when he had been staying in Ed’sapartment and felt a pang of nostalgic melancholy. Things had been simplerthen. Their friendship had evolved so easily. So naturally that Ed had oftenwondered if Penguin had been manipulating him somehow. Abusing Ed’s kindnessand willingness to help him only to bite him later like the old story of the farmerand the viper. Ed gave a humourless laugh. For a self-professed genius he seemedto be making a habit of being wrong.Had Oswald been watching over him while he recovered?

‘That was a long time ago’, Ed said, marvelling at how the tables hadturned.

‘It feels longer than it was’, Oswald said, blinking hard, ‘It’ll benice to have some intelligent conversation for a change. Just like old times’.

‘That reminds me: where’s Butch?’

‘Dead’, Oswald said dispassionately, ‘And I’ve made sure it’ll stick this time’.

Ed saw the relish in Oswald’s eyes despite his neutral expression andput two and two together.

‘And you left Tabitha alive’, Ed said, smiling reminiscently, ‘To live with it.Just like you said you would one day’.

‘You remembered’, Oswald grinned.

‘I’m sorry I missed it’, Ed said.

‘There’ll be other chances’, Oswald said gratifyingly as he rose from hischair, ‘Now, shall we get down to business? Unless of course, you havesomewhere else to be’.

Ed didn’t have to think about his answer.

‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Roomie’, he said.

Oswald walked around the bed and pulled on a tassel that Ed had presumedwas simply decoration.

‘Good answer’, Oswald said, as a curtain fell away and light rushed into theroom.

Ed’s bed was beside a large window. Looking through it, Ed could seeinto the entrance hall of the building. People, all bearing hoodedjackets with a penguin in profile on the back, were moving boxes around as a steadystream of them were brought in through City Hall’s large doors. Some men hadclipboards, making notes and directing other people carrying various boxes andbags. Ed could see labelled boxes of cigars, weapons crates and alcohol sittingbeside boxes of more mundane utilities like baby formula, first aid kits,toilet paper. It was as if one half of City Hall was a market for mercenariesand the other a supermarket for the members of the public.

And Oswald could charge whatever he wanted for all of it. Any of it he chose tooffer for sale that is.

Ed looked up at Oswald only to see Oswald was offering him something. Ablack bowler hat decorated with black sequins.

‘Because I’m going to need a master of ceremonies’, Oswald said, ‘For myauctions’.

Ed accepted the hat and tried it on. He sighed as it fit perfectly,feeling more and more like himself with every moment. Every moment with Oswald.

‘Sold’, Ed pronounced, tipping the hat to his partner in crime.

[midtownvaledictorian]

Duty Calls

Being an intern on the Spider-Man: Homecoming set gets you into some interesting situations...

(2,250 words)

Warnings: mostly fluff with some smut at the end (oral-male receiving)

When you got an internship with Marvel after your second year of college, you thought life was perfect. You’d be working with real directors, real publicists, and even real actors. You had been majoring in film production, and after especially impressing one of your professors, he put in a good word for you with some friends of his at Marvel. Before you knew it, you were on a plane to Atlanta to help with the new Spider-Man: Homecoming movie. You thought you’d be in the action—reviewing film, setting up interviews, sitting in on meetings. Little did you know, intern was basically codeword for errand girl. Every morning you woke up at five so you could get all of the directors and leads their coffee before they arrived on set, then going back to grab the orders for all of the extras and crew. You were constantly running paperwork and messages back and forth, making phone call after phone call. The only cool part was letting the actors know that they were needed back on set when they were in their trailers. Typically you just knocked on their doors and gave a little “Mr./Miss Whoever, you’re needed on set.” Which was normally followed by a “be right out!” Sometimes they even added your name on the end. It wasn’t much, but it meant a lot that they cared enough to remember your name, and whenever they passed you on set they’d be sure to thank you for coffee or whatever else you had done for them that day. You could never figure out why people tried to demonize movie stars. Either all of them were amazing people, or you were on the nicest set ever. 

If you ever had free time, you would spend it with a boy named Harrison. He was best friends with Tom Holland, and tagged along on set all the time. You two got along really well, probably because you were the only two there who weren’t professionals. You never wanted to intrude on their little time together though, so whenever Tom came round when you and Harrison were hanging out, you made sure to come up with an excuse to leave them be. Tom and Harrison would always fake pout and beg you to stay around, but you would always reply “duty calls,” which would earn a “duty sucks,” from the boys. It was your little inside joke and you savored it. You had an inside joke with a movie star. “Y/N!” One of the directors called to you. You got together all of the papers you were working on and rushed over. “Listen, Laura’s feeling pretty sick. I think this heat wave has finally gotten to her. Anyways, I just sent Tom off to take twenty, can you let him know that we’re done for the day and that we’re starting an hour early tomorrow? Then you’re free to go, great work today.” “Yes sir, see you bright and early!” You made your way to Tom’s trailer, you could hear him listening to 90’s R&B inside. You knocked louder than usual to make sure he could hear you over the music. “Mr. Holland? John wanted me to let you know that-” You were cut off by him swinging the door open. “How many times have I told you to call me Tom?” He said with a raised eyebrow. “And how many times have I continued to call you Mr. Holland? I’m like the assistant to the assistant to the assistant to your assistant. I need to keep it professional,” you stated. “Anyway, Laura feels pretty sick so we’re all done for the day. We’re starting an hour early tomorrow to make up for lost time. Have a good night.” “Wait!” You spun around to see what was the matter. “Uhh, could you help me get out of this suit?” “Uh, yeah, of course.” He opened the door more to let you into his trailer, Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa was blaring over the speaker. He quickly went to his phone to turn it down, looking slightly embarrassed by his song choice. “I love Salt-N-Pepa,” you said. “No way!” He sounded like a teenager from Queens, he cleared his throat and tried again in a much deeper, English voice, “uh, no way.” You couldn’t help but laugh as a blush started to form on his cheeks. “Sorry, sometimes I just get a little stuck in Peter-mode.” You brushed off the situation so as to protect him from any more embarrassment. “R U Ready was the only song I danced to at my senior prom, I’m still amazed they played a song that good.” 
“I still don’t get the difference between homecoming and prom.” “Well,” you started to explain as you began undoing the back of his suit, “homecoming is like a cheaper version of prom, and everyone is allowed to go. Only upperclassmen can go to prom, unless you get asked by one. Plus homecoming is usually like a community thing, too. There’s a week full of activities to lead up to it, then a big assembly on Friday where all of the classes compete against each other, seniors always win. And then there’s the huge football game, one of the players will usually have an afterparty, and then the next day you dress up, fight a hangover, then go get more drunk.” You explained  as he shimmied out of the muscle suit, leaving himself in nothing but a little thong that the costume crew forced him to wear with the suit. You turned around quickly, seeing as you could practically see half of his dick under the tiny fabric. “Sorry! Sorry, uhh, I kinda forgot. Costume crew is just really used to it to be honest. I’m sorry.” Both of your cheeks were bright red. “No, no. You’re fine, I get it,” you laughed, trying to diffuse the situation. Luckily Tom quickly changed the subject back as he threw on a pair of nike joggers. “Did you ever get asked when you were younger?” “Yeah I went all four years actually.” “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Why do you say that?” “Well because, you’re you.” You laughed at the pitiful response, “What’s that supposed to mean, Spidey?” “Oh come on, you’re smart and sweet.. and beautiful.” “Oh please, you’re only saying that because I never mess up your coffee order.” You said with a smirk. “No really, I mean it. Why do you always act so, cool around me? I mean, I’m not trying to say that I’m some big shot actor that every girl should swoon over. But, the makeup team always flirts with me and tries to talk to me off set. You almost seem to run away from me. Do you not like me?” “No! Tom, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I know you get treated like that all the time, and I figured you didn’t like it much. So I didn’t want to be that person, I guess.” “I would like it if it was coming from you.” He looked at you sheepishly. “What?” He took a step towards you, putting a hand on your waist. “I would like it, if you tried flirting with me. I always try to with you but, you always seem to run away before I really have a chance.” He put a hand on your chin and lifted your face up, you were inches from his lips. Your heart was beating so fast. You wanted nothing more than to crash your lips into his, but wait. 
“Is this a test?” You asked, slightly stepping away. “Jesus, Y/N, stop thinking about the internship for one goddamn second, and think about the moment.’’ With that, he pressed his lips against yours. It was easily the best kiss of your life. It felt like you were in the movie. “That was so cheesy,” you laughed. He fake frowned at your remark before grabbing your hands and falling back onto the couch, bringing you down with him. You straddled his lap and continued to kiss him, running your hands through those perfect curls. You started kissing along his jawbone, working your way down to neck. You kissed more aggressively at the nape of his neck, surely leaving marks. Makeup crew is gonna be so pissed. Tom let out a deep, throaty moan, “You’ve already found my weakness,” he chuckled. You were confused at first, then you felt the bulge start growing underneath you. You raised an eyebrow, letting him know you were fully aware of his growing erection. “C’mon, there’s very thin fabric between us and you were kissing my neck. There’s really nothing-” You cut him off with a kiss, knowing he would defend himself forever. A moan escaped your lips as you began grinding on him. Noticing your parted lips, Tom took the bottom one in between his teeth, pulling gently. Wetness started to pool between your legs, “looks like you’ve found mine, too.” You said with a smirk. Every professional thought completely left your head as you began palming him through his thin sweatpants. Instinct took over, and you found yourself placing kisses down his stomach. Soon you were on your knees in front of him. Tom looked down at you, biting his lip with anticipation. He lifted himself off the couch a bit so that you could pull down his sweatpants. You forgot that he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath, so when his dick finally sprung out, you were shocked. It was just so, big. You were just sitting there, mouthing gaping, staring at Tom Holland’s dick. “You don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable I completely understand we could just talk or-” “No! Believe me that’s not it, at all. I want to.” You smiled up at him before taking his length in your hands. You gave him a few pumps before taking the tip of your tongue and barely rubbing it across the base. His jaw was clenched and he was staring at you with a desperate look in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smirk at the power you had over him. “Please, Y/N,” he moaned. And with that, you licked his length, base to tip, before swirling your tongue around the head. You lapped up the faint pre-cum that dribbled from his tip. He groaned loudly before running his hand through your hair. You began taking his length, savoring the feeling of his hand in your hair as you bobbed up and down. You could hear him muttering little praises in between throaty moans. You could tell he was close, his breathing was shaky and getting caught in his throat and the grip on your hair was getting tighter. It was time for the big finale. You looked up at him and waited for his eyes to lock on yours. Once they did you took his entire length down your throat, which you’ll admit was quite challenging. “Oh, fuck Y/N,” he groaned as hot cum filled the back of your throat. You stood up, not really knowing what the appropriate next step was in this situation. Luckily, Tom decided for you. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back down to the couch and wrapped an arm around you as he wriggled his sweats back on. You had to admit, it felt nice to be snuggled up under Tom Holland’s arm. Your bliss was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of you stood up, wide-eyed. “Tom, you in there?” It was Harrison. “Fuck!” You whispered. You would never be taken seriously if anyone found out what happened. Tom led you into the bathroom and held a finger to his lips, telling you not to make a sound. You heard to door open from the bathroom, your heart was beating so fast. “What’s up, mate?” Tom asked cooly. “I’ve been waiting at the car forever man, didn’t Y/N come by and tell you that we were done for the day?” “Oh, yeah, I just uhh, got caught up. I’ll be right out, yeah?” “Sure, hey speaking of Y/N, do you know where she is? Her car is still here but I can’t find her anywhere.” “That’s weird man, I have no idea. I’ll call her. See you at the car in five?” “Yeah see you.” Tom closed the door and let out a relieved sigh. You came out from the bathroom, still nervous. But when you and Tom made eye contact, you couldn’t help but bust out laughing. “Oh, there you are! God, Harrison’s been looking all over for you? What were you doing in there?” He joked. “Paperwork,” you retorted. The two of you giggled more before Tom came over and placed his hands on your waist. “So how would you like coming over later? We could watch a movie, drink some beers, maybe I could return the favor.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “How could I say no to that?” “Perfect, does seven sound good? I’ll text you the address.” “Sounds great, Mr. Holland.” The two of you started towards the door before you stopped him. “Wait, we probably shouldn’t leave at the same time.” “See, I knew you were the smart one.” He gave you a quick peck before you made your way out of his trailer, secretly thanking your professor for putting in that good word with Marvel.

[skymoonandstardust]

Your First Date with Steve Rogers

An: As requested by the lovely and amazing @a-girl-who-loves-disney  oy vey . . . this is so long. I'm so sorry, I guess I got carried away. Any who, enjoy :)

After Peggy, and the whole bombshell of being in the future, plus all the time Steve spends saving the world and at shield he never thought he'd find anyone ever again.

but he was wrong. . .

cause he found you obviously.

I don't care about cheesy and cliché-- it was love at first sight (for him at least)  and nothing can convince me otherwise!!

And it only got worse when he talked to you. Yeah, he was pretty much a goner from the first conversation. . .

You were so nice and intelligent and it was impossible for Steve to keep himself from falling for you.

It's a known fact that Steve Rogers has never, ever backed away from doing anything scary or crazy in his life, so of course he out right asks for your number then and there (in a slightly shy kinda adorable way)

Of course you give it to him

He's lowkey internally freaking out cause he's never really had any luck with girls before. They ignored him before he got the serum, so really he's  only been with Peggy . . . and that technically didn't even get to the dating phase. Now suddenly this amazing, stunning girl is giving him her number.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Soldier down. I repeat: soldier is down. 

Anyway, you guys say goodbye  and go your separate ways.

Steve really wants to call or text you later that day, but he gets pulled into a shield mission and it's the next day before he finally does.

Nervious! anxious! super soldier here as he pulls out your number and punches in the string of digits written  on the slightly crumpled piece of paper.  

If anyone asked him later, Steve would admit that pushing the call button was one of the bravest most nerve wracking things he'd ever done in his life.

Would also admit without embarrassment that nothing could ever top it on the nervous scale.

Steve was born in the 1940's so politeness is his middle name. That's why there's ten straight minutes of small talk, first. The gentleman has to  check up on you and ask how you've been cause that's the nice polite thing to do and he doesn't even regret when you talk for five minutes about everything in your life. 

Steve also tells you a bit about how he's been doing, but not too much cause of all that sensitive classified shield stuff. 

FINALLY, he works up the nerve to ask you out.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me."

"I'd love to."

"Great! Does Saturday at 8 work for you?"

You say it does and it's one happy captain America who hangs up the phone after saying goodbye.

so so so so happy and  over the moon, but tires to be stoic and keep feelings under wraps.

It doesn't work

He still seems a little more chipper then normal so the rest of the avengers catch on (including Tony) and so they're asking him about it through the day. He keeps trying to brush them off  and pretend nothing's different.

But in the end Steve cracks.

He tells them all about you-- mostly cause they insist on having every detail and knowing everything and oh boy, by the end they do.

Tony and Natasha were especially probing and thorough with the questions.

Seriously, they just didn't stop.

Once they're all satisfied, the avengers get down to  work.

Next mission: Help Stevie with his date.

They all offer suggestions,  opinions and advice. even mild mannered Bruce Banner.

Thor keeps congratulating Steve on "his wooing of the fair maiden"

Clint gives some helpful suggestions and insight, but you know he also couldn't help throwing in a few jokes, a quip here and there, and the occasional sarcastic comment.

Tony would have no  qualms. none. he'd be laughing and joking and congratulating Steve. allllllll the innuendos.  All his advice is kinda lewd and Steve wouldn't do any of it in a million years. It's all shot down, expect for the last one or two which were actually serious. Stark wanted to do a full background check on you, just in case-- and  hey, it might help think of something good to do for the date. Everyone says no. . . and  he does it anyway on the sly (of course he does, this is  tony stark).

Natasha is the most helpful, being her usual serious self and giving real useful opinions.

Banner in a quiet way contributes and is the second most helpful. Throws in like two light jokes and one congrats and is the most chill of any of them.  

In the end Steve decides to take you to the movies.

This is where Tony's background check came in handy cause he could tell Steve what kind of movie you'd like with out Steve having to ask you.

He looks online and sees what movies are playing-- and thankfully there's one you'd like and it's playing not long after he pick you up-- just enough time to go to dinner somewhere then get to the theater.

the rest of the team all helps him, getting the tickets before hand, finding a restaurant-- then Tony handles setting up a reservation there for the right time. They all weigh in on the outfit he picks out  and Steve is really grateful for all their help.   

finally it's the day

Steve drives over to your place on his motorcycle and walks up to your door.

you know he got a bouquet of your favorite flowers and he's just standing there on the front step clutching them like a life line cause he's a nervous supersoldier tm

He's faced down Nazi's and taken down evil organizations but he can hardly handle this.

Your door opens and he's blown away cause your just, so stunning!

And his heart goes !!!!!! when you're literally just wearing a normal top and jeans.

He's so in love and such a sap that he thinks you look perfect all the time. so. . .

It's a minute before he remembers the flowers. Then he does and hands them over to you

"These are for you"

You thank him and go inside to put them in water before joining him outside again.  

"Shall we go?" "We shall."

Thanking your lucky stars that you thought to wear jeans as you climb on the motorcycle. High key freaking out cause you have to wrap your arms around Steve to stay steady and you can feel those abs under his shirt! 

Steve high key freaking out internally cause your arms are wrapped around him and your holding on to him!!

Both kinda sad when you've got to get off cause you sorta want to stay like that. . .

The two of you walk into the restaurant to find that Tony didn't just reserve a table. .  .no, of course not--- he reserved the entire restaurant for an  hour or two so other then you and Steve it's completely empty. and the entire wait staff is just looking after you two.

The host shows you to your table and the two of you sit there staring at your menus feeling awkward.

it gets even worse when you've ordered and you kinda have to talk. . .cause lets be real, even if Steve's now CAPTAIN AMERICA WITH AN INREDIBLE BODY TO MATCH HIS PERFECT HEART AND SOUL, AT HIS CORE, HE'S SITLL THE SKINNY, AWKWARD, SHY KID FROM BROOKLYN WHO NEVER QUIT OR WALKED AWAY FROM A FIGHT. . . so he's not sure how to talk to you?? or what to say???

Finally you break the ice by asking what you're going to do after this, and the two of you end up talking about the movie for a bit. After that the both of you are more comfortable and all the awkwardness and shyness melts away.

The rest of the dinner goes well. Both your meals are delicious and the conversation's smooth and interesting and it's way too soon before you and Steve are paying the bill and walking out the door.

You guys get to the theater and pick up the tickets. . .. and since no movie is complete without snacks and a drink the two of you walk over.

He tells you to pick out whatever you want--it's on him (aw, the gentleman) Buuut since he did all this stuff already you insist and end up paying for both your snacks.

The two of you head into the theater and -- lucky for you--- are able to get seats right in the middle with a good view of the screen.

It's a blast. the two of you talk a bit, watch the the previews and when the movie finally starts, it's great beginning to end.  

the two of you walk out of the theater discussing it and just walk around the city for a bit cause both of you want to prolong this date as much as possible since you like spending time with each other  and you're  pretty sure you're in love with him already. 

ssssssshh but-- Steve is already 100% sure and is pretty much thinking about your future together, and planning it al out in his head already but you didn't hear that from me. . .

Anyway, after about an hour of walking  he drives you back home and the super soldier (being the gentleman he is) walks you to the door (awwww)  and he's not exactly awkward, more hesitant cause he lowkey doesn't want to go and is it ok to kiss you??? You're the one in the end that makes the move, kissing him before saying goodnight and walking inside.

Steve just stands there, smiling at your door for a minute with his hands in his pockets.

When he walks away Steve's already planning your second date. . .and the third.

Steve rogers is a pure, good, kind, angel of a human being and he deserves a love in his life. good night!!

Extra: as soon as he goes into work the next  day the team ambushes him, sits him down and doesn't move till he tells them all about how it went.

They start setting the plans in motion for the next date that very day.

The forevers: @a-sea-of-fandoms @casownsmyass @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @scarlettsoldier @thatbasicnerd4life @docharleythegeekqueen

Marvel girls: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kenziecole-green @l4life @padfootsiriusorionblackthethird